Wesley reached for the door handle of the next classroom with a quiet kind of anticipation.
The thrill of what just happened still pulsed in his veins—he could still feel the residue of mana tingling at the tips of his fingers.
The fire, the vibration of energy through his mop, the warmth of embers licking across his skin.
It was all still there, like a dream that hadn't faded yet.
With a smooth push, the wooden door creaked open.
Mess. Of course, it was messy.
Scorch marks smeared the walls.
Dust clung to every flat surface. Someone had left half a cloak hanging over a desk, burnt and blackened at the hem.
The scent of singed parchment and melting wax clung to the air.
Wesley blinked, about to take his first step inside—when suddenly, a translucent blue screen blinked into existence before his face.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE: This room is not assigned to the Host. No mission will be generated.]
Wesley blinked. "Eh? What?" He tilted his head and frowned. The screen vanished as abruptly as it came.
He scratched the back of his head, then pulled out a small, crumpled scroll from the waistband of his robes.
It was his janitor schedule—dull brown parchment with his name etched in faded gold ink.
Sure enough, the list of rooms assigned to him today were all marked with the crimson rune of fire-classrooms.
This one? A blue sigil. Likely water-elemental. Another janitor's responsibility.
"Well... figures," he muttered. "No mission, no reward. Moving on."
He gave the room one last glance, closed the door—and walked away, the soft click of the latch sounding behind him.
But he didn't see it.
Something stirred in the dark corner behind the teacher's podium. A shadow stretched. Then it twitched. Slid forward. Crawling—but by then, Wesley was long gone.
He stepped into the next room on his list. Another fire-element classroom.
This one was larger. No students this time. Just silence.
As Wesley stepped inside, the air felt different. He took a single breath and coughed—hard.
A burnt smell stung his nostrils immediately. Charcoal. Ash. Was that... melted metal? He waved a hand in front of his face and advanced.
A bright chime rang out.
DING!
> [Janitor System Activated]
New Mission: Clean 5 Designated Spots
Time Limit: 15 minutes
→
Tier I: Clean 5 spots within 15 minutes – 3 Bronze coins and basic buffs (Fire Empower Lv. 1).
Tier II: Clean 5 spots within 12 minutes – 6 Bronze coins, basic buffs, and a low-level skill (Slash).
Tier III: Clean 5 spots within 8 minutes – 12 Bronze coins, basic buffs, low-level skill, and Mana of Knighthood experience.
Tier IV: Clean 5 spots within 6 minutes – 18 Bronze coins, basic buffs, low-level skill, Mana of Knighthood experience, and Mana of Flame Conjurer experience.
Failure Penalty: Stiffneck for a year!
Wesley blinked. Then he burst out laughing.
"Hahaha! What in the world? A stiff neck? For a year?! What kind of absurd punishment is that?"
He tapped the screen, eyes wide with excitement. "But these rewards... hooo, boy! Mana of Knighthood and Mana of Flame Conjurer experience? I need those. I want those. This is practically a treasure chest disguised as a janitor's assignment!"
He twirled in place, mop in hand, and bounced on his heels like an excited child. "Let's gooo!"
He stopped spinning to properly analyze the room. His eyes narrowed, scanning the battlefield—er, classroom.
It wasn't like the previous one. This was worse.
Much worse.
Ash piles dotted the ground like miniature volcanoes.
Burnt parchments, some still curling with smoke, littered the corners. The blackened outlines of what were once chairs now looked like skeletal remnants of a long-forgotten war.
Wesley even spotted cracks in the stone walls, as if a fire spell had gone off mid-incantation and blasted its target backwards.
Then his gaze drifted to the floor, where deep slashes were etched into the tiles. Not just messy—violent.
"Okay… this place is an entire battlefield," Wesley said aloud, muttering as he paced. "Someone used fire magic here, yes—but then someone else responded. Those cuts? That's no accident. Those are sword arcs, probably reinforced with mana. Which means…"
He crouched beside a burn mark and poked it with the tip of his mop. "This was a duel, or a class demo, between a Flame Conjurer and a Knight. But not amateurs. That heat signature's too recent, and that angle of sword-slash... that's deliberate. A spar? Or punishment training?"
He rose, eyes flaring with insight. "Which also means… the soot and residual elemental energy here will be harder to clean than before. Because it's not just dirt—it's magical."
He gestured wildly. "The fire residue has likely been imprinted with residual mana particles, meaning ordinary mopping techniques won't remove it! I'll need to burn-clean it with controlled ember spells, then reinforce the mop with Mana of Knighthood to shatter the hardened crust!
"And those tiles over there? They look glossy but I bet they're cursed with heat echoes—if I step on them unprepared, the mana might surge back up and fry my boots off!"
He exhaled hard.
"But!" Wesley slapped his mop into his palm. "That's fine! That's fine! I've got ember now. I've got a reinforced mop. And I've got six minutes to become the Tier IV janitor champion of this entire school."
He straightened, and the blue screen pulsed once more.
Accept Mission?
Yes / No
(Time left: 10… 9… 8…)
"Yes!" Wesley barked without hesitation.
Mission Started.
Time remaining: 6:00
"LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO!"
Wesley exploded into motion. He didn't walk—he sprinted.
In his mind's eye, the classroom transformed.
No longer a broken training hall—it became a mystical battlefield under a burning crimson sky.
The charred floor turned into cracked obsidian.
The furniture twisted into jagged black rocks, steaming from inner heat.
And rising from the shadows… came them.
Flame boulders.
They hovered several feet off the ground—massive chunks of magma rock, with wide grins carved from molten lava and burning eyes the size of fists.
Two long arms extended from their bodies like stretching molten wax, each ending in spiked fingers made to punch and crush.
Their laughter echoed across the mental realm like a demonic choir.
The first one charged.
Wesley shouted and dashed toward it, mop held like a spear.
In the real world, he was lunging across the classroom toward a pile of charred dust under a desk.
But in his head?
"HYAAAHH!" he screamed, leaping into the air, twisting, and bringing his mop down in a mighty strike.
The Flame Boulder shrieked as his mop—now glowing with both ember and knight energy—slammed into its head.
The boulder burst into a geyser of flame and ash, raining sparks around him.
Ding!
[1/5 Spots Cleaned – Time remaining: 4:45]
No time to celebrate.
Two more came rushing in, spinning like infernal tornadoes.
Wesley flipped sideways over a desk—slamming his mop down mid-roll, scattering embers across the air.
In the real world, he was skidding across the floor, gasping, sweeping a mound of dirt that had hidden under the teacher's podium.
[2/5 Spots Cleaned – Time remaining: 3:55]
His shirt clung to his back. Dust smacked into his face. A puff of ash stung his eyes.
But he pressed on.
He crawled, he leapt, he spun in circles to sweep around a group of melted quills. "YOU THINK DIRT CAN STOP ME?!" he roared like a warrior in battle.
A flame boulder tried to crush him with both fists.
He slammed his mop upward.
In the real world, he knocked a pile of coal-like residue off the bookshelf.
[3/5 Spots Cleaned – Time remaining: 2:30]
His lungs burned.
His vision blurred.
But he didn't slow.
The final two enemies approached, hovering in circles, arms raised. In his imagination, a battleground inferno flared around them. Wesley's arms trembled. His breath came in ragged heaves.
"Almost there…" he whispered. "Just… two more…"
He fell to one knee, clutching the mop, and stabbed forward. In the real world, the mop's edge slid beneath a shelf, dragging out a cluster of black, nearly invisible grime.
[4/5 Spots Cleaned – Time remaining: 1:10]
One last spot.
One last boulder.
It was massive. The size of a horse-drawn carriage. It screamed and lunged.
Wesley roared and sprinted. "DIIIIEEEEE!"
He spun mid-air, mop raised in both hands, and slammed it down with everything he had.
SLAM.
Dust exploded into the air.
In the real world, he had wiped the last black smear off the cracked tile beneath the center podium.
[5/5 Spots Cleaned – Time remaining: 0:12]
After all that, he collapsed onto his knees.
His chest rose and fell rapidly.
His face was streaked with soot, hair a mess, clothes tattered and covered in grime.
He looked up, grinned like a maniac, and gasped, "Fortunately… I made it…"
He coughed.
Then laughed.
"I reached six minutes."