Jiji stared hard at the glowing panels floating before him, his heart racing as though the words themselves were alive. Each mission glimmered with a faint aura, as if daring him to choose.
The easy mission gave him one hour to clean all seventeen spots. The reward was a Flame Wheel Spiritual Root—a single-attribute root that would allow him to absorb flame stones with ease. His eyes narrowed. "The sect that rejected me… they were looking for flame roots, weren't they?" he muttered under his breath. The thought was tempting.
That reward would fit perfectly with what they wanted, a straight path back into their acceptance. Yet deep down, he couldn't ignore the mediocrity of it. One element. One door open, but hundreds closed.
The normal mission was harsher. Forty minutes for the same seventeen spots. His mouth went dry as he read the reward—Trio-Colored Spiritual Root. Water, fire, verdant.
A combination root, far more flexible than a single attribute. His eyes widened. "This… this is insane. With this, even if they kicked me away before, they'd have no choice but to let me in. It's three attributes in one body! Who the hell could turn that down?"
But then came the hard mission.
Twenty-five minutes. His heart pounded as he saw the shimmering letters: Heaven Rainbow Spiritual Root. Seven colors. Seven attributes.
The trio, plus four more. His breath caught in his throat. That was no longer a root—it was a gateway, an arsenal, a divine privilege. "With this… I'd be unstoppable," Jiji whispered, a hungry gleam flickering in his eyes.
Then his gaze locked onto the last mission. The one that seemed to pulse with menace. Extreme. Seventeen spots, perfectly cleaned, in only fifteen minutes. His reward: Heaven Defying Spiritual Root. Just by the name, it screamed absurdity. The description shimmered ominously:
[A spiritual root beyond all others. No one can sense it. No one can measure it. A root that defies the heavens themselves.]
Jiji's eyes widened, and for a long breath he just stood there. To remain unseen, to be dismissed as a mortal while hiding unfathomable power—it was the perfect disguise.
A treasure beyond comprehension.
But then he scrolled lower, and his stomach churned at the punishment:
[Failure: 1 year of "Balls Itch."]
He gagged, his entire body shivering as if he'd been dumped into a frozen river. "One year?!" His voice cracked, echoing against the walls. "That's not punishment, that's torture! That's… inhumane!" He clutched his crotch reflexively, sweat forming at his temples. "What kind of psychotic system designs this? Who sat there and thought, Yes, yes, eternal groin agony—that's perfect!"
But still, his gaze returned to the radiant letters of the reward. Heaven Defying. It was a word so bold, so absolute, it overshadowed even his terror.
His heart drummed faster. He turned his gaze inward, studying the body he now occupied.
At first, he'd doubted it. This was the body of a spoiled young master, wasn't it? Someone who'd lived in comfort, far removed from labor or hardship. But earlier, when he'd cleaned the storage room surface, his body hadn't even broken a sweat. His lungs didn't burn. His muscles didn't cry out. Instead, he felt strangely invigorated, almost as though this body had been carved by discipline he hadn't noticed before.
Testing it, Jiji dashed toward the corner of the room and leapt with all his might. His feet landed light, his muscles steady.
He gritted his teeth and ran again, faster, zigzagging between piles of unused crates. His legs carried him like a storm. His eyes widened in disbelief. "This… this is insane. It's stronger than my body on Earth, no doubt. But then—how the hell did this guy die just by hitting his head?!"
The thought lingered, dark and sharp, but he shook it away. No time for that. No time for hesitation.
"Alright…" He inhaled deeply, every nerve alight with determination. "Let's get down to business."
His finger hovered. Without looking back, without letting his doubts gnaw at him, he slammed down on the choice: Extreme.
The system pulsed brighter than before, its tone colder, sharper.
[Warning: Extreme Mission selected. Failure results in 1 year of Balls Itch. Confirm? Yes/No.]
Jiji's throat bobbed. He could almost hear phantom scratching, the idea alone making his skin crawl. But his eyes burned with a madman's resolve. "Yes. Yes, dammit!"
Ding!
[Timer begins now. Fifteen minutes.]
[Clean the seventeen designated spots.]
The numbers began to count down mercilessly.
Jiji didn't start cleaning right away. Instead, he ran around the corners of the storage house, eyes darting quickly, searching for anything unusual.
He flipped boxes, pulled cloths, shoved barrels aside. His chest thudded with every second, but what shocked him was his own stamina—his movements were fast, precise, and his breathing was calm. This body… he'd underestimated it. Again.
Then his eyes caught it. A faint shimmer on the floorboards. One… then another. Like dark stains invisible until the system's glow brushed them. He found one spot, then two, then three. Seventeen in total, scattered like cursed sigils across the floor, ceiling, and even the underside of stacked crates. His stomach twisted.
He returned to the center of the room, mop clutched tightly in his hands. His eyes closed for a brief moment.
The silence pressed heavy around him, the ticking timer thrumming at the edge of his thoughts. He took in a breath, five seconds of stillness. Then his eyes snapped open.
The world twisted.
The storage room dissolved like smoke.
The air grew heavy, the walls stretching wider until shadows clung to every corner.
The dust thickened, twisting together into shapes that writhed and cackled. Seventeen figures emerged, each born from the filth he'd marked.
Spirit gremlins.
Their bodies were squat, grotesque, with twisted limbs and sharp-toothed grins. Some had jagged horns, others sickly green skin mottled with patches of mold. But the worst were those with four arms, wriggling hungrily as if eager to resist his cleaning.
They giggled, high-pitched and grotesque, their voices echoing like broken glass. Kiki-kiki-kiki… The sound crawled into his ears like maggots.
Jiji spun the mop in his hands, its wooden shaft glowing with ethereal light. No longer a janitor's tool, but a gleaming white spear, humming with power. His lips curved into a grin, sharp and defiant.
"Time to take you all out!"