Instructor Heiron’s voice was calm, but firm. "You stay and clean the floor, Janitor Wesley."
Wesley stopped dead in his tracks. His heart sank like a stone.
The instructor walked forward, hands behind his back, eyes scanning the arena floor as if he could already see imperfections only he noticed. "Your spirit," Heiron began, "is comndable. Rare."
His voice had dropped into sothing softer—almost fatherly.
"I’ve seen many students, hopeful and bright-eyed, storm into this place thinking grit alone will carry them through. So break when they fail their first test. So crumble when they realize their family na won’t carry them forever. And so," he glanced at Wesley, "don’t even have the foundation to begin with. Yet you... you ca in here with nothing but a mop and the audacity to lead a team of washouts like they were generals. That takes sothing."
Wesley smiled awkwardly, halfway between flattery and dread.
Heiron nodded slowly. "I won’t insult you by pretending that cleaning these arenas is so noble road to knighthood or mastery of mana. But still, that effort you showed—even if misdirected—is effort nonetheless. The intention, the heart behind it, matters more than most people think."
Wesley’s grip tightened around his mop handle.
"And that’s why I’ll speak to Old Greg myself," Heiron added firmly. "If he’s really forcing you to clean every single trial site—the Sand Pit, the Trial Do, the Obsidian Yard, the Echo Hall, all of it—then that’s just cruelty. It’s not possible. No one can handle that kind of schedule. Not even knights."
Wesley opened his mouth. He wanted to say thank you. He wanted to bow politely and be grateful for the intervention. But instead, what ca out was, "I don’t mind, really. It’s sothing I promised Old Greg. I need to finish it."
Heiron blinked, mildly surprised.
Wesley chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. "He might be weird and strict and like... emotionally void, but Old Greg gave a chance. When everyone else said I was a loser, he gave a mop and told to prove myself. Told I could train through cleaning. That if I do it well, the path will reveal itself. So yeah, I promised him I’d do it. All of it."
He looked up, more earnest now. "I an, sure, I can’t awaken mana. And yeah, maybe my promise to him was the only thing helping stay afloat, but Greg doesn’t know that. He believes I’ll fail. So I want to prove him wrong. Not out of hate or anything. Just... because I can. And I want to see in his face the shocked look I am seeking..."
Internally, Wesley was already cursing a storm.
This is hell. Why the hell did I say that? Now I’ll be stuck here forever. Damn it. Damn it. DAMN IT. I should’ve just said I had diarrhea or sothing. Maybe this bastard would let go.
But his words had struck sothing deep inside Instructor Heiron’s heart.
The man was looking at him like he’d just heard the call of an ancient warrior reborn in mop-wielding form.
"That kind of heart..." Heiron said, wiping an eye. "That resolve... is this for real?" he asked. Then, he rembered so people—his comrades, the ones he had t, those pure souls...
"He’s just like them," he muttered. "His look was just like theirs..."
Wesley bit the inside of his cheek. Please don’t say sothing emotional. Please. I beg you—
"You may not awaken mana, but you have awakened sothing far greater," Instructor Heiron would say with pure sincerity, "I admit... that’s the rarest thing..."
Wesley wanted to die. Fuck! Are you for real? Do you believe my words easily?
Suddenly, instructor Heiron would add, that’s it... Alright..." he said.
Wesley would widen his eyes.
"I’ll call on several working knights in the academy," Heiron continued proudly, puffing out his chest.
Wesley would cough. What the fuck?!
"They will train you. You’ve earned it, Wesley. And even if your path never leads to magic, your will alone will open doors closed to most."
Doors closed for a reason, Wesley muttered in his mind. Shit! This won’t do! I needed sothing to convince this fool to let go! Suddenly, Wesley had an idea. He coughed and opened his mouth.
"But I’ll be honest, Instructor Heiron sir," he added. "I still want to go. I haven’t seen the other arenas yet. It’s my first ti here. I’ve only heard stories of the Obsidian Yard, how the walls shine like night and absorb noise. I want to see that for myself. And the Echo Hall! It’s supposed to have a resonance that mimics your voice back a second late, just enough to disorient people who chant spells. Co on, that’s cool, right?"
He grinned sheepishly. "It’s not about escaping work. It’s just... I’m new here. This place is so big. You guys have battle platforms with nas! Do you know how crazy that is to soone who used to mop a stable? I’m not asking for a break. I just want to see the world that I sohow got pulled into."
Now, let see... if you can’t be touched by that. However, Wesley imdiately froze in horror when he saw the expression on the instructor’s face.
Heiron stared at him, clearly moved. "A curious soul... a drear..."
No, no, NO—don’t start tearing up again.
"Wesley," he said, eyes shimring, "you’re a shining example of what we all should aspire to be... truly... a good example..."
Oh God.
"You don’t give up. You don’t back down."
Please stop.
"You walk forward, even when the road ends. Even when the mop is your only sword... Such a pure heart and spirit! Such rare thing to witness..."
You are KILLING !
The students had gathered by now. So were even standing on the arena steps, watching the exchange. Girls blinked at him in awe. Boys crossed their arms and nodded in approval.
"He’s kind of cool..."
"He really was the janitor who trained Gabe?"
"He speaks like a protagonist..."
"I’d follow him to war—er, a clean-up job, I guess."
"He’s cute in that underdog, scrappy way."
"No, seriously, give him a sword already."
Wesley’s soul left his body sowhere halfway through the cheering. He tried to smile and nod, but his brain was repeating abort mission like a cursed chant.
"Can I go now?" he asked politely, nearly whispering it like a prayer.
Instructor Heiron blinked, then smiled—fondly. Too fondly.
"No, Wesley. Not ye—I an, absolutely not!"
Wesley’s heart dropped.
"You may visit those arenas tomorrow. I’ll make sure you get access to each one of them personally."
That didn’t sound as hopeful as it should’ve.
"But for now..." Heiron gestured to the mop still in Wesley’s grip, "Janitor Wesley will stay here. And once today’s class is done, I’ll summon one of our knights to begin your personal training."
The students clapped again.
So even saluted.
Wesley, frozen in place, let the weight of those final words sink in.
Personal training? Knights?
He smiled faintly, sighed even fainter, and muttered beneath his breath:
"...I’m never getting out of this place alive, am I?"
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