The Snooze Button

The blue rectangle hovered in the air, translucent and shimmering against the backdrop of the manicured royal gardens. It pulsed with a gentle, rhythmic light, demanding attention.

**[QUEST ALERT: The Northern Hordes Approach.]**

**[Difficulty: S-Rank]**

**[Recommended Level: 50]**

**[Accept? Y/N]**

Prince Valian yawned, stretching his arms until his elbows cracked. He reached out a hand—not to grab a sword, but to swipe the notification away into the ether.

"Dismiss," he muttered, closing his eyes again. "It’s too early for a raid event."

He adjusted his position on the velvet chaise lounge, catching the perfect angle of the mid-morning sun. Being reincarnated as the Third Prince of the Kingdom of Aethelgard was, frankly, the best thing that had ever happened to him. In his old life, he was Ken, a college dropout drowning in student loans and anxiety. Here? He was Valian, blessed with the <System> interface, S-Rank potential, and a face that could launch a thousand ships.

He was currently Level 5. He had been Level 5 for three years.

"Your Highness," a voice cut through his doze. It was breathless, tight with exertion.

Valian cracked one eye open. Knight-Captain Elara stood at the edge of the terrace. She was covered in dust, her blonde hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Her practice armor was dented. She looked like she had just wrestled a bear.

"Elara," Valian smiled lazily. "You’re blocking my sun. Did you bring the wine?"

Elara didn't smile back. She wiped soot from her cheek. "The scouts report smoke on the northern ridge, Valian. Heavy smoke. The King is calling a war council."

"The old man loves his councils," Valian waved a dismissive hand. "It’s probably just bandits. Or a dragon migration. Nothing the narrative can't handle."

He spoke in terms she didn't understand—*narrative, plot armor, NPCs*—but she was used to his eccentricities. She stepped closer, her gauntleted hand resting on the hilt of her sword. Her knuckles were white.

"It feels different this time," she said softly. "The air tastes like ash. You should train today. Please. Even just the basic forms."

Valian laughed. It was a light, carefree sound. "Elara, my dear Knight-Captain. Why should I sweat and bleed when I have you? You’re the strongest sword in the kingdom."

He believed it. In every game he’d ever played, the childhood friend character was essential. They were plot-protected. They were the tank to his eventual DPS. He had time. The "Main Plot" usually didn't kick in until the protagonist turned twenty. He was only eighteen. He had two more years of tutorial mode left.

"I am not invincible, Valian," Elara said, her voice dropping to a whisper. She looked at him with a mixture of adoration and terrifying sadness. "I can only hold the line for so long."

"Relax," Valian said, reaching for a grape from the silver platter beside him. "If things get bad, I’ll step in. I have a Hidden Class, remember? I’m the protagonist."

He popped the grape into his mouth. A new notification pinged in the corner of his vision.

**[WARNING: Invasion Imminent. Time Remaining: 00:15:00]**

"Fifteen minutes," Valian thought, chewing slowly. "Plenty of time for a nap."