Toronto knew death was near when the final compile finished without a single error.

For three seconds, he stared at the green message on his laptop screen and felt nothing. No joy. No relief. Not even the tiny spark of pride that usually appeared after surviving another impossible deadline. Build succeeded.

His HRIS module worked. The login page accepted credentials. The dashboard loaded. The reports did not explode. Somewhere, in a kinder universe, that would have meant sleep.

In this universe, it meant his thesis adviser would ask for revisions in the morning. Toronto blinked once as the room tilted.

A cold cup of coffee sat beside a tangled mess of wires, bread wrappers, circuit boards, and printed diagrams marked with red pen. His running shoes were still wet from the morning marathon he had joined because some cruel part of him believed discipline built character.

He had no character left, only battery warning.

"Finally," he whispered, and let his forehead touch the keyboard. The laptop chimed.

Toronto died before he could close the lid.

When he opened his eyes again, people were chanting at him.

That was rude.

A circle of blue-white light burned beneath his back. Tall pillars rose around him, carved with unfamiliar symbols that looked suspiciously like someone had forced a medieval cathedral to run a user interface. Priests in silver robes knelt on both sides of the circle. Knights stood at attention. Nobles watched from a balcony with the hungry expression of people expecting free entertainment.

At the far end of the hall, a golden-haired king lifted both hands.

"Otherworlder Hero!" the king declared. "Almanos has answered our prayer!"

Toronto closed his eyes.

No.

System Error: The Hero is Too Lazy to Level Up