Chapter 4: How to Look Effortlessly Cool While the Universe Does the Work

Seven strolled along the golden string, hands loose, humming something tuneless as his feet tapped the floor's smooth pathwalk.

The moment his boot touched these marked lanes, it was like stepping into a cheat zone — no monsters, no traps, not even a random slime daring to peek out. The system really made these "safe zones" feel like a lazy afternoon walk, and Seven was all for it.

He hadn't even gotten far when the scene practically jumped out at him — five goblins up ahead, gathered at the edge of the forest like a pack of delinquent teens who'd found an abandoned sports car.

Except, well, this wasn't a car — it was a luxury carriage, the kind that screamed expensive with every polished surface.

The goblins, small and wiry, were green little punks with arms too big for their frames and legs that moved way too fast for comfort.

They were waving their clunky, rusted weapons like they'd just invented violence and were really proud of it. Their laughter carried sharp across the distance, loud and full of mischief, like the whole attack was a hilarious prank to them.

By the carriage, things looked… bad.

Three people were holding down the fort. An old gentleman — clearly rich, clearly out of his depth — looked like he belonged more at a fancy banquet than a battlefield.

A lady with sleek black hair and a striking red dress was holding onto the carriage, eyes sharp but hands empty, clearly not built for combat.

And then there was the poor knight — the only one in armor, the only one actually trying to swing back.

He was sweating bullets, barely keeping up, sword scraping against goblin blades as they swarmed him two at a time.

Seven could almost hear the knight's internal monologue: Why am I the only one fighting here?!

It was obvious they were getting overwhelmed, like watching someone try to swat five wasps with a single flyswatter — pure chaos, pure struggle.

Seven strolled over at his own pace, no rush, no drama, just a relaxed saunter like he was heading toward a street performer, not an actual fight. On the way, he casually bent down and scooped up a pebble from the ground, spinning it between his fingers like a bored kid.

The moment that mysterious goddess had slapped him with the overpowered Infinite Luck skill, it was like his brain had been neatly downloaded with the how-to guide. No learning curve, no manual — just instant, perfect understanding of how to bend luck like it was his personal toy. And oh, he definitely planned to.

Seven's eyes flicked over to the goblin currently locked in a messy brawl with the knight, the poor guy barely holding his own under the wild swings and cackling lunges.

Seven gave the pebble a little flick in his palm, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Alright, let's see what a lucky throw can do."

[Tier 1: Goblin — Level 1.]

Seven flicked the tiny pebble with a lazy little snap, no aim, no tension, just a flick like someone casually tossing away a snack shell.

The pebble took off on the most ridiculous arc, not even close to the goblins, bouncing harmlessly off a mossy root like it was playing tag with nature.

The root gave the faintest shiver, just enough to shake loose a fat beetle that had been minding its own business underneath.

The beetle, clearly offended at the sudden eviction, scrambled up the nearest tree trunk in a panic, legs skittering like a tiny wind-up toy.

High up, a bird perched on a branch noticed the unexpected movement below. With a startled squawk that sounded way too dramatic for the moment, it launched itself into the air, wings flapping like it had just remembered it was late for an important meeting.

The bird's sudden takeoff rattled the branch it had been perched on — a dry, brittle old thing that gave one last creak of protest before snapping loose.

The dead branch toppled, smacking right onto a rotted log on the forest floor, hitting with a soft but decisive thunk.

The log cracked apart, one jagged splinter snapping free with surprising speed, darting forward like it had somewhere to be.

That splinter shot down the slope, tapping a loose stone sitting right at the edge.

The stone wobbled at first, almost like it was unsure if it wanted to move, then gave a lazy little roll down the slope.

But as it picked up speed, that wobble turned into a determined tumble, bumping over roots and dirt until—bam!—it smacked right into the edge of a sharp rock jutting up like a smug little tooth.

A thin shard snapped off, slicing clean through the air with a soft whistle, like nature itself had decided to throw a dart.

The shard zipped forward, no hesitation, no mercy, and smacked the goblin square in the temple just as it lunged forward, teeth bared in triumph.

The goblin's eyes gave a wide, glassy blink, then rolled back in the most dramatic, over-the-top way imaginable.

With a small, almost polite flop, the creature crumpled to the ground, stone-dead before it even realized what hit it.

Seven gazed down at the dead goblin, its tongue lolled out in the dirt like some cartoonish, overcooked lizard. If goblins had a handbook for unlucky deaths, this one had just claimed the cover spot.

Seven smirked, flicking the last bit of dust off his fingertips.

"Looks like luck ran out for you."

From near the carriage, the beautiful lady with sleek black hair turned sharply, her blue eyes wide with surprise, like someone who had just realized the background extra was actually the main character.

"Who… who are you?"

Seven shifted his gaze lazily toward her, eyes glinting with an easy, amused spark, like he was still deciding if he wanted to answer seriously or keep the mystery going just a little longer.

[NPC: Annalise.]

"I'm just here to clear out these goblins."

One of the four remaining goblins let out an excited screech and rushed straight at Seven, weapon raised like it was about to win the goblin version of a trophy.

Seven, completely unbothered, leaned slightly to the side and gave the carriage wall a light knock with his knuckles — nothing dramatic, nothing flashy, just a casual tap-tap.

The knock gave the old lantern hook above the door a little jolt, making the lantern swing sharply like a startled cat.

The swinging lantern smacked into a loose rope dangling nearby, sending it into a wild little dance.

That rope, as if remembering it had responsibilities, gave a sharp tug at the bundle of firewood tied up on the carriage roof, the whole stack shivering slightly as the knots strained under the sudden pull.

The bundle gave a slow, lazy slide, tipping right off the edge of the carriage roof like it had finally decided gravity was worth listening to. Logs tumbled down in a clumsy cascade, bumping and bouncing with little hollow thuds.

One log hit the corner of a jagged rock sticking up nearby, splitting neatly into two with a sharp crack, like nature's version of a surprise break.

The sharper half didn't stop there — it bounced hard, smacking against the carriage wheel with a loud, hollow thunk, spinning off at an odd angle like it had just been served in a game of chaotic pinball.

The shard zipped across the path, slicing through the air before smacking into a brittle old tree trunk. The trunk gave a weary groan, cracking under the sudden hit, and its upper branch let out one final dramatic creak before snapping loose.

The heavy branch crashed down at the exact moment the charging goblin reached forward, arms stretched, mouth open in some wild goblin roar.

With perfect, almost slapstick timing, the branch slammed right onto the goblin's skull, flattening it to the ground like a squashed bug.

The goblin gave one last twitch, limbs jerking once — then fell still, completely and utterly dead.

The gentleman stared at Seven, his face crumpled in pure, puzzled confusion, like his brain was still trying to figure out if he'd just witnessed luck or a magic trick no one had explained.

"What… what was that?"

Seven let a slow, amused smirk pull at his lips, a glimmer of playful ease flickering in his eyes.

"Looks like the universe's feeling generous today."

Across the path, the three remaining goblins paused mid-motion, their stubby arms half-raised, eyes darting left and right. One scratched its head. Another tilted slightly, mouth hanging open in the most confused goblin expression imaginable.

They all glanced at each other — utterly baffled, like they were silently asking, Wait… are we the ones under attack?

Seven's Twinshift Blades shimmered into his hand, the metal shifting smoothly into its long twinblade pole form. With a casual flick, he split the weapon apart into two sleek blades, sliding effortlessly into what looked like a fighting stance — or at least, something resembling one.

Because honestly? Despite all that confidence in his eyes, it was hilariously clear he wasn't used to even holding the thing. His grip was slightly off, his shoulders too relaxed, and the way he spun one blade looked more "guy testing out cosplay props" than "seasoned warrior ready for battle."

"Ah, yeah… this is definitely why people invest in Dexterity. Gotta look smooth holding weapons even when you don't need them. Charisma alone just makes you look like you borrowed someone else's gear."

From the side, the knight gave him a long, skeptical glance, breathless but still managing to squeeze out a strained,

"Are you… really ready for this?"

Seven's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with playful ease.

"Relax. This isn't even going to count as a real fight."

Seven's eyes flicked past the knight — just casually, nothing intentional — but then his brain screeched to a full stop.

Hold up.

He blinked, then looked again.

The lady. Oh no, the lady.

There she was, standing behind the knight, hands pressed dramatically to her chest like she was trying to keep her heart from leaping right out. Her blue eyes were locked on Seven with a gaze so intense it could've burned a hole clean through him.

This wasn't admiration. Oh no. This wasn't polite gratitude.

This was full-on thirst.

She looked at him like a woman stranded in the desert who had just seen her first glass of water in days — except swap out the water for him. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted just slightly, her entire posture screaming hero worship with a very heavy sprinkle of romantic fantasy overload.

Seven swore he could practically hear the violins playing somewhere in the background, the type of swelling music that only shows up when someone's imagining slow-motion, wind-blown hair, and a love confession under the stars.

He cleared his throat sharply, feeling the awkward weight of her gaze practically drilling into his soul.

Nope. Nope nope nope.

Act cool. Pretend you didn't notice the lady practically undressing you with her eyes.

With a forced casualness, Seven turned his full attention back to the goblins, who were still frozen in confusion, clueless to the ridiculous soap opera brewing right in front of them.