Okay.
So.
Apparently, there's a secret setting in the EtherNet™ system called "Sleep in the Face of Danger (Literally)."
Yes, that's what it's actually called.
No, I didn't enable it on purpose.
Turns out that when I hit ACCEPT on that fate-canceling pop-up right before getting turned into street jam by a truck, the system scanned my vitals, detected "extreme fatigue," "deep passive resistance," and "a soul so lazy it loops back into spiritual enlightenment," and decided—
"Let's give this guy the Nap Protocol."
See, the EtherNet™ wasn't just cosmic Wi-Fi. It was a multidimensional operating system for existence. A divine OS. And apparently, I'd triggered a debugged developer cheat path just by being an unmotivated blob of human exhaustion.
Here's what I found buried deep in the Destiny Router™ app's Terms & Conditions, under section 47.6.b, paragraph "You'll never read this":
"Users who opt into EtherNet™ while exhibiting peak dormant entropy may unlock Legacy Trait: Sleep in the Face of Danger (Literally). Trait includes passive XP gain, threat nullification aura, and event-triggered evolution cycles based on unconscious motion such as yawning, twitching, and blanket cocooning."
Translation?
I leveled up… by sleeping.
The longer I napped, the stronger I got.
Apparently, during the Apocalypse, every time I turned in my sleep, I gained +2 Agility.
Every time I yawned? +3 Charisma (don't ask why).
A good long snore? +1 Constitution per minute.
Blanket kicked off and then dramatically pulled back on? That triggered a rare subclass evolution: Comfy Reaper.
By the time the world finished collapsing, I had become—unintentionally—the most overpowered human still on Earth. All while spooning a dinosaur plushie and drooling into a body pillow.
I didn't believe it either.
Until I opened the Skill Tree tab.
It was... horrifying.
Current Class: Napromancer
Subclass: Comfy Reaper
Level: ???
Power Source: Passive Sleep Entropy
Active Perks:
REM-Rampage: Automatically activates if REM sleep is interrupted by catastrophic threat. User awakens with temporary god-tier stats, sleep breath causes sonic shockwaves.
Pillow Barrier: Generates a kinetic shield around user's bed proportional to the fluffiness of nearby plush objects.
Midnight Stretch Combo: Passive attack unlocked by sleep stretching. Range: 25 meters.
Yawn of Silence: Causes reality within a 10-mile radius to buffer while user completes yawn.
There was also an achievement I'd unlocked:
"UNSLEEPING LEGEND: You survived 31 global extinction events in a row while in your pajamas. +100 Universe Respect."
The flashback kicked in again that night. But not the fiery, terrifying kind like before.
This one was behind-the-scenes.
It showed me curled up in bed, mumbling something about needing more hot sauce for the pizza dream.
All around me, the world was ending in real time: Firestorms. Reality glitches. Ducks with laser beams leading revolts against capitalism.
But above my bed hovered an invisible EtherNet™ Node, downloading system patches directly into my subconscious.
"Boost cycle active," it said in a soft, robotic voice. "Upgrading Napromancer core files. Processing dream-laced quantum XP…"
My aura—yes, I have an aura now, apparently—flashed with every breath I took. The entire room shimmered with soft gold light each time I snored.
I watched as multiple threats approached—demonic beasts, glitching androids, Karen-shaped energy wraiths—and immediately disintegrated the second they entered my dream radius.
One even exploded from the sheer psychological backlash of walking in on me mid-sleep-talk.
"No, Grandma, I don't want another cursed spoon…"
Boom. Gone.
So why didn't anyone tell me?
Because, as the flashback showed, the EtherNet™ team meant to.
I watched a group of cosmic technicians (they looked like sentient fax machines wearing lab coats) materialize in my hallway. They tried to leave a welcome packet. A glowing scroll. A "Congrats on Ascending While Unconscious" balloon.
But they couldn't get past my Pillow Barrier.
One technician poked it and was immediately launched into a pocket dimension shaped like a beanbag.
The team leader, a fax machine named Kevin-709, sighed and wrote a sticky note:
"Leave him. He's cracked. We'll circle back after he wakes up. If he ever wakes up."
They left me a plush llama with USB charging ports and vanished into the walls.
Waking up after learning all this was... unsettling.
For one, I now understood why squirrels had started saluting me when I passed.
And why clouds above my apartment shaped themselves into thumbs-up icons.
Also why my fridge stopped running—but only after giving me one final perfectly chilled orange soda and a whispered, "Thank you, Master."
I walked outside and noticed the changes.
Every step I took, the grass bent slightly… then clapped.
A floating text bubble appeared above a tree:
"Congratulations! You've unlocked Passive Authority Aura: Reality bends slightly to your will (especially if it involves snacks or naps)."
I was no longer just some guy who slept through the end of the world.
I was The Guy who slept into a new world—and accidentally maxed out his stat sheet while curled in fetal position.
So… what now?
That's what I kept asking myself.
Because as amazing as this was—it was also terrifying. Not just because of the power. But because if the system gave me this kind of cheat code…
Who else got upgraded?
What else evolved while the lights were out?
Because I wasn't the only one left behind.
There were others. Still out there. Survivors. Sleepers. Glitch-children. Those who didn't leave for Mars or got caught between dimensions and came back... different.
And some of them?
They didn't trade their fate for Wi-Fi.
They hacked it.
And one of them just sent me a friend request.