A yawn left his lips as his eyes opened, having to blink a few times to adjust to the all-too-bright sunlight that dipped between the curtains. Like an undead risen from the soil, he sat up on the side of his bed with his eyes still squinting, heavy with drowsiness.
His light-brown, fluffy hair looked as though he had been struck by lightning, seeing as it pointed in all sorts of directions.
"…Aaagh…" Another yawn left his lips as he stood up, stretching his arms over his head.
[Goodmorning, Invictus of Prometheus. Here is your assessment of your system for today.]
A monotone voice resembling that of a woman played in his ears, though coming from nowhere externally as a paper burned itself into view before his eyes.
"Right," he mumbled, squinting his eyes to look at the paper.
