The sun blazed high above the academy's training grounds, where warriors clashed, spells exploded, and weapons clanged. The air was thick with sweat and tension.
Amidst this chaos, Lucas Vance was… sprawled under a tree, snoring peacefully.
"Lucas! Wake up, you lazy bum!" A fiery-haired girl loomed over him, her hands on her hips.
Lucas cracked an eye open. "Five more minutes, Claire…"
"IT'S BEEN TWO HOURS!"
Claire, his best friend and childhood tormentor, yanked his ear, dragging him toward the sparring arena. Lucas groaned, his body refusing to cooperate.
"Lucas Vance!" The instructor's voice boomed. "Get in the ring! Your opponent awaits!"
Lucas lazily turned his head. His opponent? A massive, muscle-bound senior known as Brutus the Bone-Crusher.
He sighed. "Do I have to?"
"YES!" The entire class yelled in unison.
Lucas sighed again. This was too much effort. He stepped into the ring, eyes half-lidded. Brutus cracked his knuckles, grinning.
"You're dead, slacker."
"Eh." Lucas stretched. "Let's just get this over with."
Brutus lunged. The crowd gasped.
Lucas yawned, absentmindedly dodging. His body moved instinctively, avoiding every punch and kick like he was just shifting in his sleep.
Brutus swung a final blow—Lucas sidestepped. The senior tripped over Lucas's foot, crashed face-first into the ground, and knocked himself out.
Silence.
The instructor gawked. The crowd stared. Claire's eye twitched.
Lucas scratched his head. "Can I go back to napping now?"
And thus, the legend of the Lazy Potato began.