Midsummer sun blazed over Eldoria, turning the city into a canvas of light and revelry. The cobblestone streets shimmered with heat, their cracks softened by garlands of wildflowers strung between lampposts, their petals fluttering in the warm breeze. Banners of crimson and gold—Kaneki's colors, though he'd never picked them—snapped above the market square, where stalls groaned under the weight of fresh bread, roasted meats, and barrels of cider tapped for the occasion. Laughter and music spilled from every corner, fiddles and drums weaving a lively tune that drew townsfolk from their homes, their faces flushed with joy and sunburn. The air was thick with the scents of honeyed pastries, sizzling skewers, and the faint tang of river water drifting from the Eldorian's banks. It was the Festival of Ease, a celebration born of Kaneki's victories—goblins tamed, devils befriended, chimeras napped, and Reginald's army scattered—now a day to revel in the city's peculiar peace.
Duke Prince Kaneki Nohara lounged at the heart of it all, sprawled across a makeshift throne in the castle garden—a cushioned bench piled with pillows, shaded by a sagging canopy of patched canvas. His crimson robe hung loosely, its gold-threaded hems trailing in the grass, and a goblet of chilled cider dangled from his fingertips, condensation dripping onto his lap. His dark hair was a mess, strands plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his slippers rested on a crate, one missing since morning. Around him, his crew sprawled in their own chaos: Hana perched on a stump, juggling apples with a grin; the goblins scampered through the roses, clutching stolen pastries; the devil lounged on a boulder, sipping cider from a barrel-sized mug; the chimera dozed by the gate, its pillow tucked under its lion head; and Lirien floated overhead, his lute strumming a drowsy melody that blended with the festival's din. The Laid-Back System chimed in Kaneki's mind: *"Task: Relax amid festivities. Reward: 20 Relaxation Points."* He sipped his cider, the tart sweetness cooling his throat, and smirked. This was his kind of party—no effort, all reward.
The garden buzzed with guests—townsfolk drifting in with trays of food, guards off-duty and laughing, maids weaving through with pitchers of drink. Mrs. Pumpernickel, the baker whose sourdough had sparked Kaneki's goblin adventure, plopped a basket of rolls beside him, her apron dusted with flour. "For you, Your Grace," she said, her stern face softening. "Saved the city with chips—never thought I'd see it."
"Chips are magic," Kaneki quipped, grabbing a roll. "Thanks, Mrs. P." She huffed, but a smile tugged at her lips as she bustled off.
Hana caught an apple mid-juggle, biting into it. "This festival's wild," she said, chewing. "All 'cause you're too lazy to fight proper. Genius, bro."
"Fighting's overrated," Kaneki replied, stretching until his joints popped. "Naps win wars."
Sir Grumble approached, his armor swapped for a simple tunic, though his sword still hung at his hip—a habit he couldn't shake. His beard bristled with sweat, but his eyes held a rare lightness. "Your Grace," he said, voice gruff but warm, "the people love this. Never seen Eldoria so… alive. Even the guild's pitching in—set up a dunk tank with the chimera as the prize."
Kaneki chuckled, picturing the beast splashing in a tub. "Hope it's got its pillow."
The festivities had started at dawn, a spontaneous eruption after Reginald's retreat. The townsfolk, emboldened by Kaneki's string of absurd triumphs, had declared a holiday—markets turned to feasts, streets to dance floors, and dungeons to odd attractions. The "Whispering Dungeon" now drew visitors, Lirien's songs a lure for coin, while the chimera's nap spot in the square sold "official" pillows stitched by crafty vendors. Kaneki hadn't planned it—planning was work—but he didn't mind. The less he did, the more Eldoria thrived.
The garden gate creaked, and a shadow fell across the canopy—a tall figure in a cloak of peacock blue, its edges shimmering with silver thread. The crowd parted, murmurs rippling, as Lady Seraphine of Cresthaven stepped forward, her presence a stark contrast to the garden's mess. She was regal, her auburn hair coiled in an elaborate braid, her green eyes sharp with disdain. A retinue trailed her—knights in polished mail, maids with parasols, a scribe scribbling on a scroll. She carried a staff topped with a sapphire, its glow pulsing faintly, and her lips curled into a smirk as she surveyed Kaneki's sprawl.
"Duke Kaneki," she said, her voice crisp, cutting through Lirien's tune. "The Laid-Back Duke, they call you. I expected more… dignity from Eldoria's ruler."
Kaneki tilted his head, sipping cider. "Dignity's heavy. Cider's better. Who're you?"
"Lady Seraphine," she replied, chin lifting. "Cresthaven's emissary. I've heard tales of your… exploits. Goblins bribed, devils tea'd, armies napped. I came to see if the rumors held truth—and to challenge you."
Hana snorted, tossing an apple core into the bushes. "Challenge him to what? A sleep-off?"
Seraphine's eyes narrowed. "A duel of wits and skill, to prove Cresthaven's superiority. Your city's a farce—lazy and lawless. Face me, or I'll claim Eldoria's honor for my own."
Grumble bristled, hand on his sword. "Your Grace, she's got no right—insulting us on our own soil!"
"Chill," Kaneki said, waving him off. "Dueling's work. What's the prize, Seraphine?"
"Bragging rights," she snapped. "And if I win, you kneel and call Cresthaven master."
Kaneki yawned, the system pinging: *"Bonus Task: Face a challenge with boredom. Reward: 10 Relaxation Points."* "Fine," he said, rolling off the bench with a groan. "But my way. How about… a nap-off? First to sleep wins. No kneeling, just vibes."
Seraphine blinked, her staff faltering. "A *nap-off*? This is absurd—"
"Take it or leave it," Kaneki cut in, grinning. "Festival rules."
The crowd cheered, catching the idea like wildfire—absurdity was Eldoria's currency now. Seraphine's lips thinned, but she nodded, pride locking her in. "Very well. I'll outlast you, sloth."
The garden cleared a space, townsfolk dragging benches into a circle, vendors hawking snacks for the show. Kaneki flopped onto his bench, pillows piled high, while Seraphine sat stiffly on a chair her maids fetched, her staff propped beside her. Hana clapped, rallying the crew. "Let's help him win—lazy style!"
The nap-off began with a drumroll, the crowd hushing. Kaneki closed his eyes, his Supreme Nap Aura pulsing faintly, a warm ripple that softened the air. Lirien floated overhead, strumming a lullaby, his notes drifting like a gentle tide. The goblins scurried around Seraphine, giggling as they dropped crumbs on her lap, distracting her with rustling chip bags. The devil lumbered over, offering her a scone with a fanged grin—"Relax, lady"—while the chimera's snores rumbled from the gate, a bassline to Lirien's tune. Hana hummed along, tossing apple cores into a pile, her off-key notes adding to the chaos.
Seraphine glared, gripping her staff, its sapphire flaring as she muttered a focus spell. "I'll not succumb to this nonsense," she hissed, but her eyelids fluttered, the aura seeping in. Kaneki, half-asleep already, mumbled, "Good luck," and let the system hum: *"Task: Win a duel by napping. Reward: 50 Relaxation Points."*
Minutes ticked by, the crowd whispering bets—cider on Kaneki, bread on Seraphine. Her knights fidgeted, their armor clanking, but she held firm, jaw clenched, until the goblins climbed her chair, tugging her cloak. "Nap, nap!" they chirped, and she swatted at them, focus breaking. The devil dropped a second scone, its scent wafting, and Lirien's lute hit a deeper note, the aura swelling. Seraphine's head dipped, snapped up, dipped again—and then she slumped, staff clattering, a soft snore escaping her lips.
The crowd erupted, cheers shaking the garden. Kaneki cracked an eye, grinning. "Told you—naps win." He sat up, stretching, as Seraphine jolted awake, face red with fury and sleep.
"You cheated!" she spat, leaping up. "This wasn't fair!"
"Nope," Kaneki said, sipping cider. "Just lazy. Stick around—festival's fun."
Her knights tensed, but the townsfolk surged forward, offering food and drink, their laughter disarming her retinue. Seraphine glared, then huffed, snatching a roll from Mrs. Pumpernickel. "Fine," she muttered. "One day. But Cresthaven's still better."
"Sure," Kaneki quipped, flopping back. "Enjoy the scones."
The festival roared on, the nap-off a new legend—bards already weaving it into songs. The garden filled with revelry: Hana danced with the goblins, the devil toasted with cider, Lirien played for a growing crowd, and the chimera snored through it all. Grumble joined, tunic stained with juice, a rare laugh escaping him. "You're impossible, Your Grace," he said. "But Eldoria's yours—heart and soul."
"Lazy heart," Kaneki replied, closing his eyes. "Best kind."
As night fell, lanterns lit the city, stars winking above. The system tallied his points—enough for a new skill: *"Eternal Ease Aura: Extend relaxation indefinitely. Cost: 200 Relaxation Points."* He activated it, a golden warmth blanketing Eldoria, and the festival softened into a dreamy haze. Kaneki's legacy was set—not in steel or blood, but in naps, snacks, and a city that loved him for it.
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