DING!
Mission Completed
Mission: Clean 5 designated spots
Ti Limit: 15 minutes
Ti Used: 7 minutes, 45 seconds
Tier IV Reward Earned.
Wesley blinked, breathless and dripping with sweat, as the system screen shimred in front of his eyes. His chest heaved, his arms ached, and his knees felt like jelly. But none of that mattered.
He’d done it.
Before he could even pump his fist in victory, a shimring clink of coins echoed through the air—eighteen bronze coins cascaded down from the system screen like an invisible hand was pouring them from a purse.
They clattered softly onto the stone floor beside him, vanishing into his inventory screen with a warm glow and a little " 18" next to his total.
"Thirty-three," Wesley whispered to himself. "I’ve got thirty-three bronze coins now!"
His voice cracked with disbelief. Thirty-three bronze coins! It wasn’t just money. It was hope. It was a future.
He stood there, dazed, the implications hitting him harder than the burst of heat he’d taken to the face earlier.
Thirty-three bronze coins ant options. Real, tangible options.
In a world where everything magical cost sothing—where mana-boosting bread rolls cost five bronze a loaf, and healing salves started at ten—this was a fortune for soone like him.
Soone who wasn’t a warrior. Soone who wasn’t a conjurer. Soone who was just... a janitor.
"But not just a janitor anymore," he grinned, hands clenched into fists. "I’m a system janitor. That ans I get paid, I get stronger, and I get gear."
He began to pace in small circles, speaking aloud to himself as though narrating his newfound power.
"If I keep going at this pace, I could buy a basic Mana Filtering Cloak in a week—one of those that helps you retain ambient mana while working. That’s at least sixty bronze, but with this montum..."
His eyes sparkled. "And the Fla Resistance Gloves! Those are only thirty bronze, I could afford them now! Finally! No more burning my fingers on stupid leftover fire magic!" He paused and then cackled. "Ha! And don’t even get started on the Elixir of Clean Lungs! That’s thirty-five bronze, and I’m only two coins short! No more inhaling scorched ash and spell residue! Do you know how long I’ve been breathing that garbage? Since the academy opened!"
He looked up to the high ceiling, eyes wide with emotion. "I could even buy real food. Not dry oatcakes. Not tasteless stew that’s more water than at. I could afford Fla-Seared Lizard Skewers. Protein! Vital for mana recovery. They say eating one gives you warmth and recovery in the belly for an hour. Imagine that! An entire hour without stomach cramps..."
He paused again, placing both hands on his hips. His gaze shifted to the system screen as it flickered to his next reward.
[Reward Obtained: Fla Empower (Lv. 1)]
[Effect: Absorbs any type of fire that isn’t from the host to slowly regenerate the host’s own mana when exposed to fire-elental environnts. Does not work in neutral or water-heavy regions.]
Wesley let out a whistle. "That’s... that’s actually kind of amazing. Especially for a guy like ."
The academy was fire-heavy. Everywhere. Most classes here were built around it.
With Fla Empower, he wouldn’t just survive in those environnts—he could thrive.
That tiny trickle of recovered mana might be the difference between finishing a mission or running dry halfway through. And more importantly, it was passive.
That ant he didn’t have to think about it. It would just work.
And then, without warning, the next reward hit.
His body locked up—his spine stiffened, his hands went limp, and his eyes widened as sothing foreign poured into his mind.
It was like a book exploding open in his head, but with no pages and no words. Just instinct. Just clarity. He understood the art of slashing like he’d done it since birth. Like he’d practiced for a thousand years beneath a waterfall while balancing a boulder on his back.
Images burst across his mind: the angle of a perfect shoulder twist, the tension of muscle coiled just before release, the ideal footwork for stability and power.
The Slash was not just about cutting—it was about reading the enemy, responding with timing, knowing where and how to strike with precision that made even a basic attack deadly.
[Skill Acquired: Sword Slash (Low-Level Skill)]
[Current Rank: 0-Star]
[Maximum Potential: 3-Star]
[Details: At 3-Star mastery, can be used to strike down enemies up to three tis the user’s own strength level. Current power negligible. Skill will grow through repetitive practice, battle usage, and focused training.]
"Three tis my strength..." Wesley muttered, then clenched his jaw. "Soday."
He looked at his mop. No, not a mop anymore. Right now, it was a sword. A weapon of growth.
With a grin, he drew the mop with dramatic flair, pointing it toward a nearby desk like he was a knight challenging an ogre.
"Slash!" he roared, swinging the mop in a dramatic arc.
Mana flared. It surged from within him like a current unblocked. It rushed up through his arms, coating the mop’s shaft in shimring translucent energy, and for a mont, the entire room glowed with potential.
The mop struck air with a whooshing sound, sending dust flying and the faint hum of power pulsing into the floor.
Wesley gasped. "I felt it! That was a real burst! I really used mana!"
He slashed again—this ti downward. A line of heat trailed the mop’s head, sizzling against the scorched floor. Again, he swung. And again. He started laughing, wild and excited like a boy who’d just found out he could fly. The power swelled in him—raw, eager, untrained.
Then—
DING!
[Knight’s Mana: 0/10]
The screen blinked into existence before him, the letters stark and cold.
Wesley staggered, panting. "Hah... I used it all?"
His shoulders slumped. "Ten points gone... just like that..."
And yet, he smiled.
It had been worth it.
Because then ca the final reward.
DING!
[New Experience Gained]
Mana Knight Experience: 25/50
Mana Conjurer Experience: 25/50
He stared at the screen, barely daring to believe it. "I’m halfway," he whispered.
And then louder: "I’m halfway!"
His joy erupted into physical celebration. He leapt into the air with a whoop, nearly slipping on a leftover scorch mark as he spun in a circle. "I’m halfway! I’m halfway to becoming a real Mana Knight! And a Mana Conjurer! Both! Not just one!"
He ran in circles around the room, raising his mop in triumph. "I’ll get my titles! I’ll get my licenses! I won’t be ’just a janitor’ anymore—they’ll have to call Mana Knight Wesley! Or Conjurer Wesley! Or... or maybe even both!"
He paused in front of a half-burned mirror hanging on the far wall and looked at his reflection.
"Wait, do I really need to beco one of those? Why not just be a low-key, overpowered janitor? Haha!" He agreed with himself, thinking, "Yeah, I would do that!"
Sweat-matted hair, soot-sared cheeks, wide, gleaming eyes. He looked wild. Alive.
"I’m going to be a low-key Janitor," he whispered to himself.
He took one last deep breath, letting the warmth of the room and the hum of his system wrap around him like a cloak.
This was only the beginning. But it was real now. The coins in his pocket, the mana in his body, the skills in his mind—they were all real.
And there was still work to do.
He turned back to the door and approached it with steady, confident steps.
"More doors," he said, his voice brimming with fire. "More to clean. More to fight. More to earn."
He placed his hand on the door, took one last look at the classroom behind him—the scorched room now peaceful again—and gave a small nod.
"Here I go again."
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