"They're all dead. You can go in and mop."
That was the only warning he got before the metal door creaked open, releasing a stench of blood, burnt magic, and fluids he preferred not to identify.
"Thanks for the courtesy, as always," he muttered as he stepped through the threshold, lugging a squeaky bucket and a chipped mop.
He had to show up early that morning for work.
The dungeon was a mess. Cracked walls, purple puddles, and scattered remains of creatures with more teeth than common sense. The guild's scouting party had left less than five minutes ago, leaving everything exactly as they found it: a disaster.
Hatz knelt beside what looked like a charred antenna. He nudged it with the mop handle. It didn't move.
"Great. It's dead. So am I," he said, propping his tools against the rocky wall of the dungeon.
He had no magic. No sword. Just debt.
And a ridiculous work contract that forced him to clean up to three dungeons a day—no insurance, no protective gear, and, of course, no dignity.
But he didn't complain. At least not out loud.
He stretched his back and sighed, surveying the chaos.
"Let's get to work," he said, opening his magical waste bag.
It looked like a regular sack, except for some golden runes stitched into the fabric. It could hold kilos upon kilos of garbage without bursting—as long as it didn't exceed 50 kilograms.
That was still punishment for Hatz, who had to haul one or even three full bags daily on his cart, without the help of magic or arcane strength. No small feat.
With thick gloves protecting his hands, he began picking up viscera and monster remains—most of them insectoid. At this point, he didn't even wear a mask unless poison was involved. From experience, these ones weren't.
At one point, he grabbed his mop and stared at the corpse of a monster.
He looked around for a moment... and grinned.
"This is what happens when you challenge the Phantom Cleaner!" he declared, striking a dramatic hero pose. He pretended to sheath his mop like a sword. "You should be grateful I granted you an honorable death, filthy vermin. My blade is so lethal you didn't even notice you were dead."
He laughed theatrically—then spun around, startled.
"What was that? You weren't alone?" he gasped, glaring at another heap of severed parts. "You'll suffer the same fate."
He launched into clumsy mop maneuvers, as if fighting an invisible foe. Thrusts, air slashes, leaps, dodges.
He kept it up until he started to sweat.
Resting his "weapon" against the wall, he got back to work.
After clearing most of the B1 level of debris, it was time to mop. He dipped the battered mop into his bucket, which held a special cleaning mix, and started scrubbing away blood and other fluids.
After a while, the water would begin separating magical waste, solidifying it just enough to scoop it up by hand and toss it into the magic bag.
He spent about an hour in total on the level. Luckily, the adventurers hadn't made it to the second floor that day, so he only had to deal with B1.
He thanked the small miracles.
The dungeon was buried deep in the Mohga Forest—a dense region of towering trees outside the city. The return trip would be long.
He pulled out a wire-bristle brush to scrape dried blood off the stone walls. But near the entrance to the next level, there was a black handprint—maybe ancient—that wouldn't come off no matter how hard he scrubbed.
In the end, he gave up.
All that remained was to spray the area with disinfectant and deodorizer.
He stood at the entrance, admiring his work: clean, with a faint citrus scent. Though in less than a lunar cycle, the place would be crawling with monsters again, and they'd call him back.
A never-ending cycle.
He took a bottle of water and a sandwich from his bag. Sat on a jutting rock and settled in for lunch.
He had grown used to the silence and solitude of conquered dungeon levels. At first, he was always anxious that a monster might respawn without warning.
It never happened. But he still glanced occasionally toward the tunnel leading to B2.
The passage was just wide enough for a person to fit. It sloped downward like a natural staircase—dark and cracked.
He remembered coming here at least a dozen times. Once, he even reached the boss chamber's door. That had been during a massive raid organized by multiple guild parties.
He still had nightmares about the two days and three nights he spent cleaning up after that.
The only silver lining was finding a few minor drops the adventurers had left behind. He made a decent profit off them.
Like getting a good tip—something that almost never happened.
He took a final sip from his water bottle and got ready to leave.
As he shouldered his bag, he looked again at the tunnel to the second floor.
What if he took a peek?
Wouldn't be the first time.
On particularly dull days, he liked to peek into unexplored levels just to watch the monsters loiter around. He loved seeing how they moved when they weren't fighting.
Until, of course, they noticed him and made him sprint for his life—laughing nervously all the way.
And today… was shaping up to be one of those days.
The air was thicker down here. That familiar, unpleasant mix of corrupted magic and moldy decay filled his lungs.
He didn't plan to go far. Just far enough to satisfy his curiosity… and boredom.
Gripping his mop, he descended several rocky steps until he found himself in a darker corridor. Although he had been in this dungeon before, he knew its layout always changed. But the monsters usually didn't.
As he descended, he saw that B2 was a much larger cavern, bathed in a beautiful silver light that streamed from a crack in the ceiling and gently touched a lone cherry blossom tree, right in the center of a clearing surrounded by stone pillars.
The monsters were also insectoid: centipedes the size of cows and dung beetles with sharp horns moved calmly through the area.
Hatz crouched behind a rock near the entrance, observing the place.
But this time, something was different. He wasn't focused on the monsters—he was focused on the tree. Its presence was so out of place, so disconnected from the dungeon's design, that it was hypnotic.
He knew exactly what it was: an Unusual Space.
That's what guilds called places or objects that, through magical anomalies, appeared in levels they didn't belong to. It was said they originated from much deeper areas—even legendary dungeons. And they always hid unique treasures, impossible for low-ranked adventurers to acquire.
Based on the intel he'd gathered and his own experience cleaning dozens of dungeons, Hatz was certain that tree was one of them.
What kind of item might it be hiding? Could it be something worth millions of lums?
He remembered stories of adventurers who found Unusual Spaces. Tales that ended in wealth and unimaginable fame.
If the group who had cleared B1 had bothered to descend to B2, they would've surely risked their lives to reach that tree.
It was the first time Hatz felt such a strange blend of excitement and desperation. The excitement of finding something hidden, rare, magical—and the desperation of knowing he couldn't reach it.
Not with his strength. Not without magic. Not without gear.
Although the tree was relatively close, between him and his destination stretched a field swarming with monsters. Even if by some miracle he managed to reach it without being devoured, he would still have to make it back.
A suicide mission.
It would be a nice memory, though: having seen an Unusual Space with his own eyes, despite being just a regular human.
A good story to tell his little sister.
After several minutes torn between reason and impulse, he sighed in defeat and turned to leave.
Then, his foot stepped on something sticky. The texture was different from the dry ground. He instinctively looked around, gripping his mop tightly.
And then, a warm, viscous drop fell on his head, sliding down his neck.
He swallowed hard.
His legs trembled. Slowly, he looked up.
A massive centipede stared down at him from the dungeon ceiling. It remained motionless, waiting.
He couldn't breathe. He took a step back to run, but just ahead, another centipede blocked his path. It stood upright, its antennae twitching with anticipation, greenish saliva dripping from its fangs.
With no time to think, the creature lunged at him with a screech.
Hatz let out a strangled yell and bolted in the opposite direction, running like never before.
"BUHWAAAAAAAA!!!", he roared, not daring to look back.
He was doomed. He had run straight into the clearing, where even more monsters awaited.
Had he been a horrible person in a past life? Why was this happening?
Around him, the insects stirred. It was like he had aggroed the whole zone.
An old tank technique, he thought bitterly: gathering monsters to bring them to the party. Only this time, there was no party. And he was definitely no tank.
A beetle nearly tackled him from the top of a pillar, but he dodged it by mere inches.
His backpack now weighed like an anvil. His legs and lungs screamed for rest. He was running on pure adrenaline and fear.
He was only meters away from the cherry tree now. Its silver light looked more beautiful than ever.
Maybe it wasn't such a bad place to die.
He only regretted leaving Fiya, his little sister, all alone. So small, so innocent. And he… so useless.
When he reached the foot of the tree, he turned to face the horde.
"Fiya, I'm sorry!", he shouted. And that gave him the courage to grip his mop with both hands and take a defensive stance.
The first to attack was the centipede that had ambushed him. It charged, trapping the mop's handle between its fangs.
The impact lifted him off the ground and slammed him against the glowing tree trunk. The monster pressed down hard. Miraculously, the mop held. It was the only thing between his chest and the beast's mandibles.
"Ch-cheaters!", he gasped, feeling his arms begin to give way.
The centipede screeched and smashed his body against the tree again. This time with such force that his vision blurred.
And then, a small crystal orb fell from the tree, hit the monster's head, and rolled across the ground.
A moment later, it exploded in a burst of golden light.
Blinding. Pure. Intense.
The monsters shrieked in unison. The centipede let go of Hatz, who collapsed to his knees.
He couldn't see—only light.
Only that blessed radiance.
When the glow subsided, he opened his eyes with difficulty.
He was alone.
The monsters were gone.
He leaned against the tree, coughing and gasping.
"What... the hell was that…" he murmured.
He wanted to leave right away, but a few meters ahead, the ground shifted.
The centipede was coming back from underground.
And it wasn't alone. Several insects began to emerge again from the dungeon's shadows.
"You've got to be kidding me", he groaned, looking to the sky as if demanding answers from a cruel god.
The centipede burst forth, roaring, ready to finish the job.
Desperate, Hatz crawled toward the crystal orb.
He grabbed it just as the monster lunged at him again.
He raised it toward the creature and shut his eyes, bracing for death.
But it didn't come.
He peeked one eye open. The orb was glowing, projecting a beam of silvery light like a magical lantern.
The centipede hissed and recoiled.
Hatz laughed in disbelief.
"What the…?"
He stepped forward, pointing the orb. The monster backed away.
He retrieved his mop. A few other insects tried to approach, but simply aiming the light at them made them scatter.
He escaped.
He walked back slowly, but with steady steps. When he finally reached the rock near the entrance, no monsters followed him.
He glanced back toward the clearing.
The orb… it had been the object glowing among the tree's leaves. A magical fruit, perhaps.
"Thank you," he whispered, smiling up at the tree.
He ran up to level B1.
As soon as he was safe, his legs gave out. He collapsed to the ground.
And he laughed. He laughed uncontrollably. Laughed out of sheer relief, out of shock, out of not being dead.
When he finally calmed down, he looked at the orb in his hand. It was the size of a ripe plum, glowing with a slow, golden pulse from within.
"What kind of item are you…?", he whispered.
Then, a spark coursed through his fingers. A warm sensation ran up his arm.
The orb began to sink into his palm.
"Wha—?!", he yelped, horrified.
It vanished into his hand.
Then, a voice echoed in his mind:
System adapting to host…
Welcome, user: Hatz.
Passive skill detected: Echo-Cleaner (Lv. 1)
Collecting magical residue…
+5 EXP
+1 "Arcane Grime"
Hatz blinked.
"…What the hell—?"
New objective available:
"Cleanse infested areas. Reward: experience, materials… and professional pride."
Progress: 0/3
He looked at his hand. A glowing rune had appeared on the back, slowly spinning.
It was a spiral split into three segments, each made of soft, wave-like lines. In the center, a pulsing light.
"Incredible…", he whispered, breathless.
He had no idea what had just happened.
But he knew one thing for sure:
His life would never be the same.