Chapter 68: Solo Cleaning, 6, Cosmic Sanitation (The Janitor and the War Criminal)

As Kaito turned on the live stream, the spatial portal, dictated by the meticulous administrative protocols of Ugo the Skeletal Archivist, snapped open with a polite, highly professional ding.

It materialized in the exact center of the Northern Sector Dungeon’s former Boss Room. This was the very chamber where Jin the Solo Cheater had faced a colossal, terrifying Giant Ant, only to be completely upstaged and humbled by a passing janitor who had offered him a mop.

Larry and Carry stepped out of the portal, their yellow rubber gloves squeaking slightly as they adjusted their grips on their respective cleaning implements. But they weren't the only guests of this show.

From another, particular golden portal full of sparky visual effects, stepped [Lord Dibbs57] , who had just bought the live-stream experience and a big portion of [Ethereal Popcorns].

"Well. I wonder what's gonna happen now. They even changed the rules! I cannot interact with the world without spending soul coins! What the hell!" The VIP user yelled before starting to eat and giving a thumbs-up to Larry and Carry, who immediately returned the gesture. 👍👍

The Boss Room was exactly as they had left it: horrifyingly, unnaturally pristine. The obsidian floor shone with a mirror-like finish, and there wasn't a single speck of dust, chitin, or spilled adventurer blood anywhere. The ambient torches burned with a bright, clean flame, and the air smelled faintly of lavender and industrial-grade bleach.

Larry gave Carry another thumbs-up. Then, he reached into his blue coveralls, pulled out his legendary, immaculately polished stainless-steel spoon, and checked his reflection. The starry white flames in his eye sockets burned with a steady, cheerful brightness.

He gave Carry another firm 👍.

Carry returned the gesture, tapping the handle of her heavy-duty Swiffer against the floor.

However, their peace was shattered immediately.

At the far end of the cavernous room, where the solid stone wall of the dungeon’s absolute limit used to be, there was now a massive, grinding anomaly.

The dungeon architecture had been violently overwritten.

The smooth stone had been replaced by a chaotic, towering bulkhead of rusted iron, hissing brass pipes, and massive, turning cogwheels that leaked thick, black oil onto the floor.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A puddle of thick, viscous, utterly disgusting engine grease was slowly forming on Larry’s perfectly polished obsidian floor.

Larry stared at the puddle and scratched his skull, probably analyzing the situation.

*Skrik Skrik*

Suddenly, the cheerful white flames in his eye sockets immediately extinguished.

For a split second, there was only empty darkness. Then, with a sound like a match striking sandpaper, the flames reignited, but they turned into a deep, furious, apocalyptic crimson red.

It was the Custodial Rage.

"Scrik-scrik-scrik!" Larry’s jaw clattered furiously.

Carry’s skeletal shoulders tensed. She gripped her Swiffer like a halberd, her own eye flames turning a matching shade of furious crimson. Someone had tracked mud—or in this case, crude oil—onto their freshly mopped floor. This was an act of war.

Above the grinding brass door, a translucent, glitching golden LitRPG window hovered in the air.

[SYSTEM WARNING: UNREGISTERED ZONE ENTRY]

[Area: The Clockwork Chasm (Anomalous Override)]

[Recommended Level: ???]

[Danger: Severe environmental hazards, toxic fumes, and unsolicited steampunk aesthetics.]

Larry didn't care about the recommended level since he couldn't read. He just cared about the OSHA violations and the stain on the floor.

He marched up to the massive brass door with no keyhole. Instead, there was a complex puzzle involving steam valves and pressure gauges that a standard adventuring party would have to solve over the course of an hour.

Larry simply raised his right leg, coated his rubber boot in high-density necromantic mana, and front-kicked the heavy iron door with the localized force of a freight train.

KRA-KOOM!

The massive doors blew off their hinges, flying into the darkness beyond and crashing into a pile of scrap metal.

Larry and Carry stepped through the threshold, entering the anomalous zone, before giving a thumbs-up to each other.

The environment was a jarring, chaotic nightmare. The standard dungeon aesthetic of damp caves and glowing moss was completely gone, replaced by a sprawling, multi-tiered industrial complex.

Walkways of grated iron hung precariously over bottomless chasms filled with glowing, toxic green steam, and massive pistons pumped rhythmically in the background, venting clouds of thick, black soot into the air.

It was a steampunk hellscape, copied from... I don't know, but it's a familiar design.

Suddenly, from the shadows of the iron walkways, the new, anomalous mobs began to emerge, alerted by the breaching of the door.

They weren't goblins. They weren't skeletons. They were [Grease-Macaques (Lv. 87)]—vicious, screeching monkey-like creatures made entirely of rusted gears, sharp blades, and leaking oil reservoirs. They swung from the brass pipes above, hissing and spitting globs of corrosive grease.

Behind them lumbered several [Soot-Slimes (Lv. 88)]—massive, undulating blobs of living pollution, leaving a thick trail of filthy, black sludge wherever they moved.

[Lord Dibbs57] kept munching his ethereal popcorn while looking at the monsters with a confused expression.

"Hmm... this place is... unexpected. I think that someone has paid more money to the developers to rewrite the place. I was expecting a more clichèd place, but I'm entertained, I must admit," The VIP said.

[HIGHER REALMS CHAT: RECONNECTED.]

GoonerKing: "Oh boy, the Soul Trader's drop zone. This place is a nightmare."

LoreMaster_77: "The steampunk aesthetic completely clashes with Aethelgard's high-fantasy setting. The System is struggling to render this."

CleanFreak99: "Look at Larry's eyes. They are red. I repeat, the janitor is seeing red. Pray for the monkeys."

Lukas_The_Great: "What the hell? Are we in BioShock or Dwarven Skyrim?!"

The largest of the Grease-Macaques let out a mechanical shriek, dropping from a pipe and diving directly at Larry, its rusted claws extended, dripping with black sludge.

The Skeleton Janitor immediately reached into his deep, seemingly bottomless janitorial pockets and pulled out a large, heavy-duty spray bottle glowing with Jeanette's premium alchemical magic. The label read: [Industrial-Grade Degreaser: Extreme Formula].

As the mechanical monkey flew at him, Larry simply extended his arm and squeezed the trigger.

PST!

A concentrated mist of bright blue cleaning fluid hit the Grease-Macaque mid-air.

The effect was instantaneous and devastating since the high-tier alchemical degreaser didn't just clean the oil; it utterly annihilated the creature's structural integrity.

The thick grease holding the rusted gears together instantly dissolved.

The monkey didn't even have time to scream. It simply fell apart into a shower of sparkling, clean, perfectly polished brass gears and screws that clattered harmlessly against the grated floor.

Larry stood still for some instants, looking at the rest of the mechanical monkey in front of him, and gave it a disappointed [Thumbs Down] 👎

[CRITICAL HIT! You have 'Sanitized' a Grease-Macaque!]

[EXP Yield: 0 (CEO Directive: No EXP from Trash)]

Larry didn't stop. He dual-wielded a second spray bottle of [Rust-Away] and began walking forward with the unstoppable, terrifying rhythm of a Terminator programmed for housekeeping.

"Oh, why didn't he pat-pat the monkey? Mmmh... Is it because they're artificial creatures?" [Lord Dibbs57] asked, without having a reply.

"Scrik-scrik!" Larry commanded.

Carry nodded as she charged the Soot-Slimes.

The massive blobs of pollution reared up, attempting to crush the small skeleton under tons of toxic sludge. But Carry was armed with a brand new [SSSS-Swiffer of the Abyss]. She spun the mop like a martial arts staff, infusing the absorbent pads with extreme purifying mana.

She slammed the Swiffer directly into the center of the first Soot-Slime.

Instead of dealing physical damage, the ultra-absorbent pads simply acted like a magical sponge.

SHHHHUUUCK.

The massive, Level 88 monster was violently sucked into the Swiffer pad, reducing a ten-foot-tall hazard into a slightly grey stain on the cleaning cloth.

Carry casually un-velcroed the dirty pad, tossed it into a small spatial trash bag, slapped a fresh, pristine white pad onto the Swiffer, and moved to the next slime.

It was a (clean) one-sided massacre, utterly humiliating execution of those AI-Generated monsters. They weren't being fought; they were being managed.

Larry sprayed a squad of [Bronze Arachnids], watching them dissolve into spotless, shiny spare parts. Then, he kicked a bucket of soapy water down a set of stairs, causing a group of mechanical goblins to slip, fall, and short-circuit in a pile of suds.

They moved deeper into the facility, leaving a trail of lemony-fresh, sparkling-clean grating behind them, with Larry grabbing everything he could and cleaning it, while Carry kept using her Swiffer.

Ten minutes away, deeper in the industrial labyrinth, the source of the anomaly was currently having a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.

Vesta Aurelia Azerin, Heir to the Throne, biological war-criminal, and chief engineer of her own isolation, was incredibly annoyed.

Just a few months ago, she had been comfortably sealed away in her impregnable vault in her original timeline. She had been perfectly content living out her days impaled by sealing magic, letting her automated clockwork defenses slaughter any crusaders, heroes, or holy armies foolish enough to try and breach her sanctuary.

Then, the vault’s primary gears had suffered a total catastrophic failure.

The energy had built up, the magical pressure had redlined, and the entire valley had detonated in a nuclear-scale explosion.

She had expected to die.

Instead, a flash of toxic green and crimson light had ripped her from the explosion, and she had woken up in this miserable, damp, stone corridor that had slowly begun transforming into a twisted parody of her own clockwork empire.

A booming voice from the "Higher Realms" had declared her a "Donated Treasure," whatever the hell that meant, and a bizarre blue window kept flashing in front of her eyes, assigning her "Levels" and "Stats."

“Absolute nonsense,” Vesta grumbled, wiping a smear of black soot from her cheek and taking a look at the place around her.

The dragon girl was a breathtaking sight, though she did her best to hide it.

She had tied thick strips of black leather around her massive draconic wings, her horns, and her heavy tail, concealing the brilliant, shimmering blue, red, and green scales that marked her as a pureblood descendant of the first Half-Dragons. She wore heavy, oil-stained engineer's overalls, thick leather boots, and a pair of heavy welding goggles resting on her forehead.

A beautiful, real Dragon, the sworn enemy of [Dragon Slayer].

Right now, she was standing in the middle of a wide corridor, surrounded by the wreckage of at least fifty heavily armed dungeon monsters.

Hovering just over her right shoulder was a massive, terrifyingly complex cannon constructed from brass, crystal, and heavy iron. Thick steam hissed from the cooling vents on the side. It was her customized [Steam-Powered Atomic Laser], and it was currently overheating. The Soul Trader transferred her with all of her stuff.

"Stupid, fragile magic," Vesta cursed, hitting the side of the cannon with a heavy wrench. The weapon let out a loud hiss, venting a cloud of scalding steam.

Around her, four of her faithful, heavily modified clockwork automatons were diligently slicing the remaining dungeon mobs to ribbons with spinning saw blades.

Suddenly, a massive, armored Minotaur charged down the hallway, roaring, swinging a battleaxe.

Vesta didn't even look up from her cannon. She simply reached into the heavy leather pouch at her belt, pulled out a small, glass vial filled with a volatile, glowing purple chemical, and casually tossed it over her shoulder like she was throwing away a piece of trash.

The vial shattered against the Minotaur's chestplate, and the reaction was instantaneous, silent, and deeply horrifying.

The chemical didn't explode or burn the target. It was a biological/chemical scouring agent that Vesta had invented to wipe out entire battalions that broke down matter on a molecular level.

The Minotaur stopped mid-stride. Its armor, its flesh, its bones—everything simply dissolved into a fine, grey mist, leaving absolutely nothing behind.

But the most impressive part of the chemical wasn't its lethality.

When the grey mist settled on the stone floor, the chemical reaction finished by instantly neutralizing all organic and inorganic debris within a three-meter radius. The blood, the oil, the dirt, the dust... everything was scoured away.

The circular patch of floor where the Minotaur had died was left so impossibly, atomically clean that it looked like it had been freshly forged.

"Useless trash," Vesta muttered, finally getting the pressure gauge on her cannon back into the green zone. "I just want a quiet place to build a new workshop. Why do these weaklings keep attacking me?"

Suddenly, she heard a sound.

It wasn't the roar of a monster. It was a squeak. A very distinct, rhythmic squeak-squeak-squeak, like wet rubber on polished metal.

Vesta spun around, hoisting her heavy laser cannon onto her shoulder, the crystal at the barrel glowing with lethal, superheated energy.

Her clockwork servants immediately formed a defensive perimeter, their saw blades whirring aggressively.

Emerging from the steam at the end of the hallway were two skeletons. One was wearing a Janitor outfit while the other one wore a Maid outfit.

Despite their bizarre outfit, Vesta also noticed that those two skeletons were completely ignoring the danger in front of them. They just kept cleaning everything in sight.

Vesta’s draconic eyes narrowed. 'Undead? Wearing work uniforms? What kind of ridiculous dimension is this?'

"Halt!" Vesta commanded, her voice carrying the natural, heavy authority of the Azerin Empire's royalty, despite her grubby appearance. "Take one more step, and I will reduce your calcium-based structures to ash and use you to filter my exhaust vents!"

Her voice made the skeletons turn their 'gaze' toward her.

Of course, Larry and Carry didn't halt.

They didn't even look at the terrifying, glowing laser cannon aimed directly at his skull or at the whirring saw blades of the clockwork golems.

Larry’s glowing white eye-flames were completely fixated on the floor. Specifically, the three-meter circular patch of atomically clean stone where Vesta had thrown her chemical vial, while Carry was scratching her skull in front of a dirty pillar.

Then the skeleton janitor walked right past the golems' defensive perimeter, ignoring Vesta entirely.

He stopped at the edge of the clean circle and slowly, reverently, dropped to his knees.

One of Vesta's creations, a little golem, tried to attack Larry, but the Janitor didn't react. He just *pat pat* the golem on the head, gave it a thumbs up, and turned back to his inspecting, while the dragon girl immediately recalled her creation.

Then, Larry removed his right yellow rubber glove and wiped the surface of the stone with his bare, bony index finger, before lifting his finger to his eye sockets.

There was no dust, no residue. Zero. It was a level of cleanliness that transcended standard sanitation. It was divine.

Larry’s jaw dropped open. A soft, awe-struck "Scriiiik..." escaped his teeth.

He had unlocked a new expression [Surprised-Shocked Janitor].

Carry jogged up behind him with a rhythmic clak clak and peered over his shoulder. She looked at the floor, then at her Swiffer, and then back at the floor. Then, she dropped to her knees beside Larry, equally mesmerized by the sheer, unadulterated purity of the chemical scouring.

Vesta stood there, her heavy laser cannon still aimed, completely dumbfounded.

She had been feared as a heretic. She had been hunted as a war criminal. People usually screamed, begged for mercy, or tried to kill her. No one had ever ignored a loaded atomic laser to admire the floor.

"What... what are you doing?" Vesta asked, her royal authority slipping into genuine, utter confusion. "Are you defective?"

Larry slowly stood up and put his rubber glove back on.

He turned to face the terrifying, soot-covered Half-Dragon. He looked at the heavy leather pouch at her waist, where several more vials of the purple chemical were glowing softly.

Larry pointed a bony finger at the pouch. Then, he looked up into Vesta's eyes.

With the utmost respect, absolute admiration, and undeniable professional recognition, Larry raised his hand and gave Vesta the most powerful, vigorous 👍 of his entire undead existence.

Carry immediately stood up and mirrored the gesture, offering her own enthusiastic 👍.

[Lord Dibbs57] was completely surprised. "Larry recognizes the game. That chemical didn't just kill the mob; it sanitized the spawn point. He probably wants the recipe."

[HIGHER REALMS CHAT: MALFUNCTIONING]

Soul_Trader_666: "WHAT IS HAPPENING?! She is a weapon of mass destruction! She has committed atrocities! Why are they giving her a performance review?!"

CorporateSlave42: "Ravenloft Holdings is about to acquire a new Chief Engineering Officer. Welcome to the company, Vesta."

Vesta slowly lowered her laser cannon, the glowing crystal dimming as the steam hissed out of the side vents.

"You... you like my Volatile Eradication Compound?" Vesta asked, blinking in disbelief. "I used this to melt the siege engines of the Iron Vanguard. It dissolves organic matter into base carbon."

Larry gave her another approval [Thumbs-Up]👍 and then pointed at his mop, then at the floor, then at her vial, making rapid scrubbing motions with his hands.

He was panting—a purely phantom action—vibrating with excitement. He wanted that chemical. He needed that chemical for the company.

Vesta stared at the skeleton janitor in front of her. For the first time since she had arrived in this bizarre world, she didn't feel hunted.

She felt... appreciated. Her parents had told her her inventions were dangerous and un-royal, all the priests had called her a heretic, and the armies had called her a monster.

But this skeleton janitor? He just saw a damn good cleaning product.

A slow, wry smirk spread across Vesta's soot-stained face.

"You know," Vesta said, resting the heavy cannon on the floor and leaning against it. "I've been blowing up idiots in this dungeon for too long. You're the first entities who seem to have any actual sense."

Larry then reached into his blue coveralls and pulled out a crisp, heavy cardstock business card. It was embossed with the golden logo of Ravenloft Holdings, signed by Ugo, the HR Director.

He walked forward and handed the card to Vesta.

Vesta took it, flipping it over in her heavily calloused hands.

"Ravenloft Holdings," she read aloud. "We provide competitive salaries, comprehensive dental, unlimited resources for R&D, and a zero-tolerance policy for traditional narrative tropes. Equal opportunity employer for monsters, demons, and war criminals. And who's this edgy guy in the background? Damn."

Vesta chuckled, the sound dry and raspy. "Unlimited resources for R&D? And nobody is going to try and marry me off for a political alliance?"

Larry gave her another [Thumbs-Up]👍 signifying that the only acceptable romance was with one's work.

"I think I like your boss," Vesta smiled, her draconic fangs showing slightly. Then, she carefully tucked the business card into her overalls. "Alright, little bones. I'm Vesta. You want to see what my chemicals can really do? There's a massive, incredibly loud, ridiculously ugly machine at the end of this hallway that keeps spawning these annoying grease-monkeys. Let's go dismantle it."

Larry and Carry practically vibrated with joy, giving another thumbs up to them.

The dynamic duo had just become a trio. The Janitors of the Abyss and the Princess of War Crimes marched side-by-side down the grated iron walkway, ready to execute the ultimate deep clean.

[SYSTEM ALERT: BOSS ROOM APPROACHING]

[Warning: The Entity within is an amalgamation of the Dungeon's original coding and the Chaos Magic leaked from the Donated Asset's arrival.]

The heavy iron double doors at the end of the corridor were already blown wide open, leaking a horrific, suffocating smog into the hallway.

Larry, Carry, and Vesta stepped into the final chamber.

It was a massive, cylindrical room resembling the inside of a colossal, broken engine. In the center, suspended above a lake of boiling, toxic black sludge, was the Boss.

[BOSS ENTITY: Lord Smog, The Clockwork Chimera of the Ashen Oil]

[Level: ??? (Anomalous Variant)]

[Description: A terrifying fusion of flesh, rusted gears, and infinite pollution. It breathes toxic waste and bleeds crude oil. It is a walking environmental disaster.]

The Chimera was a true nightmare. It had the body of a massive, multi-legged arachnid, but its thorax was a churning boiler, and its head was a screeching mass of exhaust pipes venting black smoke. Every time it moved, thick, viscous globs of dark oil splattered across the walls and the floor. Unacceptable for Larry.

Vesta wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Ugh. Poor craftsmanship. The gear ratios are completely misaligned, and the boiler is leaking. That thing is an insult to engineering."

But Larry didn't care about the engineering. He only cared about the oil splattering on the floor.

The crimson flames in his eye sockets flared so brightly they almost blinded Carry. The janitor had reached his absolute limit. This wasn't just a mess; this was a personal insult to his entire profession.

A mechanical monster spilling biohazard materials everywhere. It was not efficient.

The Chimera let out a deafening, metallic screech, its exhaust pipes blasting a wave of scalding, toxic smog toward the trio.

"Target acquired," Vesta said coldly. She hoisted the massive laser cannon onto her shoulder, locking her boots onto the grated floor. "Let's see if your magic can keep up with my science, boys."

Vesta pulled the trigger.

The air distorted. A blinding, searing beam of pure, concentrated atomic energy erupted from the crystal barrel as the laser cut through the toxic smog like a hot knife through butter, striking the Chimera directly in the center of its boiler.

KRRAAAANG!

The Boss shrieked as the laser superheated its armor, melting the rusted gears into glowing slag. But the Chimera's level was "???", meaning that it was over the limit.

The monster didn't go down easily. It retaliated, rearing up on its mechanical legs and spitting a massive, localized tsunami of boiling black sludge directly at them.

"Incoming!" Vesta warned, reaching for a chemical vial.

But she didn't need to throw it.

Carry stepped forward, planting her skeletal feet firmly on the ground. She held the [Swiffer of the Abyss] horizontally, channeling every ounce of her necromantic mana into the absorbent pad.

[Skill Activated: The Ultimate Sponge (Void Absorption)]

The wave of toxic sludge crashed into Carry, but it didn't wash over her. The Swiffer glowed with a terrifying, vacuum-like intensity, sucking the thousands of gallons of boiling oil directly into the pad in a matter of seconds.

The physical mass of the sludge simply vanished into the cleaning implement, leaving Carry completely untouched, though her Swiffer pad was now completely black.

Vesta’s eyes widened behind her goggles. "Fascinating spatial compression magic applied to a... cleaning tool. The utility is incredible."

While Carry absorbed the attack, Larry made his move.

He didn't run. He sprinted, his yellow rubber boots squeaking against the metal grating. Then, he leapt into the air, soaring directly over the lake of toxic sludge, heading straight for the Chimera's screeching head.

The Boss swung a massive, bladed mechanical leg at him, attempting to swat the skeleton out of the air.

Larry reached into his pocket and pulled out his legendary, perfectly polished [Stainless-Steel Spoon].

He channeled his dense, heavy, CEO-granted dark mana into the spoon, transforming the simple piece of cutlery into an indestructible, bludgeoning weapon of mass sanitation.

Larry swung the spoon, parrying the massive bladed leg with a resounding, deafening CLANG. The sheer kinetic force of the parry shattered the rusted gears in the Boss's joint, causing the leg to snap backward.

Then, the skeleton janitor landed directly on top of the Chimera's main boiler.

The monster thrashed, trying to shake him off, its exhaust pipes spewing black smoke directly into Larry's face.

Larry ignored the smoke (he didn't have lungs or physical eyes) and reached into his blue coveralls and pulled out the prize: the vial of [Volatile Eradication Compound] that Vesta had gifted him just moments before.

He didn't throw it. He meticulously, carefully unscrewed the cork.

He poured the glowing purple liquid directly into the Chimera's primary exhaust vent, right into the heart of its boiler.

Larry immediately backflipped off the monster, landing gracefully next to Vesta and Carry on the safe platform.

He stood up, dusted off his blue coveralls, and adjusted his yellow gloves.

Vesta smirked, lowering her laser cannon. "Three... two... one..."

Inside the Chimera's boiler, the chemical reaction initiated.

There was no explosion and no grand, fiery climax.

There was only a sudden, absolute, molecular breakdown.

The massive, terrifying Level "???" Boss simply stopped moving.

The screeching halted, the gears froze, and then, from the inside out, the monster began to dissolve. The rusted iron, the toxic sludge, the brass pipes—all of it broke down into a fine, sparkling grey mist that drifted harmlessly into the air.

The massive lake of oil beneath the Boss was also caught in the reaction, neutralizing completely, turning into crystal-clear, perfectly pure water.

Within ten seconds, the entire Boss Room was completely empty. The air was fresh. The floors were spotless. The environment had been sanitized on an atomic level.

Some ethereal popcorn fell from [Lord Dibbs57]'s mouth, as he was completely stunned by the action he had just witnessed.

[CRITICAL SUCCESS!] [Boss Entity 'Lord Smog' has been ERADICATED.]

[Dungeon Status: CLEARED & SANITIZED.]

[EXP Yield: 0 (CEO Directive)] [Loot Dropped: 1x Legendary Gear Core, 5000 Gold Coins.]

Larry looked around the room, checking the corners and the ceiling. There was no oil. There was no soot.

The furious crimson flames in his eye sockets finally cooled, shifting back into the cheerful, starry white flames of a satisfied janitor. He turned to Vesta, pointing at the spot where the Boss used to be, and gave her a double 👍👍.

Carry clapped her bony hands together in applause, while [Lord Dibbs57] raised his arms up, saying "Absolute Cinema."

Vesta couldn't help it. She let out a loud, genuine, unhinged laugh that echoed in the pristine chamber. She hadn't laughed like that in decades. She had spent her life running from people who wanted to use her, kill her, or marry her.

And she had finally found a place where her terrifying genius was appreciated for exactly what it was: efficient.

"You guys are completely insane," Vesta grinned, adjusting her welding goggles. She walked over, scooped up the Legendary Gear Core, and tossed it into her pouch. "I think I'm going to love working here."

At that exact moment, the spatial portal of dark purple mana snapped open behind them. Ugo’s administrative magic was recalling them to base.

"After you, gentlemen," Vesta said, gesturing to the portal with her heavy wrench.

Larry and Carry stepped through the portal, their mops slung proudly over their shoulders. Vesta took one last look at the pristine, empty dungeon, smiled, and stepped into the void, leaving her past behind.

Back in the CEO’s office at Fort Blackstone, Mordecai sat behind his desk, watching the holographic feed cut to black as the portal closed.

He rested his elbows on the desk, steepling his fingers, a look of profound, quiet disbelief on his face.

He had expected a grueling, chaotic battle.

Instead, he had just watched a skeletal janitor and an unregistered, war-criminal Half-Dragon bond over industrial-grade cleaning chemicals, completely bypassing the LitRPG combat mechanics to literally scrub a Level "???" Boss out of existence.

"Well," Mordecai muttered to himself, a slow, incredibly proud smile spreading across his face. "I suppose we just hired a new Chief Engineering Officer."

A polite, sharp knock echoed from his office door, but before Mordecai could answer, Larry pushed it open, gesturing grandly for the soot-covered Half-Dragon to step inside. Carry followed close behind, holding her blackened Swiffer like a royal standard.

Vesta walked into the executive office, her heavy boots thudding against the plush carpet. She looked around, taking in the dark mahogany, the neat stacks of paperwork, and the complete lack of dungeon-esque torture devices.

"Nice place," Vesta remarked, resting her heavy laser cannon on her shoulder. "Very... practical."

Before Mordecai could formally welcome his new hire, the ambient magical lighting in the office suddenly flickered and died.

The space directly between the CEO's desk and the Half-Dragon fractured. A massive, celestial-gold LitRPG window didn't just appear—it materialized into a semi-translucent, shifting humanoid projection of pure, crackling cosmic energy.

[VIP CONNECTION ESTABLISHED: SOUL TRADER 'VOID OF REBIRTH']

Larry and Carry immediately raised their mops in a defensive stance. Vesta tensed, her hand dropping instinctively to the vial of volatile eradication compound at her belt.

"Stand down, this is normal," Mordecai ordered calmly, just leaning back in his ergonomic leather chair, crossing his arms as he analyzed the cosmic intruder.

The projection didn't look at Mordecai first. The celestial avatar turned its featureless, starry face toward the Half-Dragon.

A deep, resonant, and surprisingly warm voice echoed in the room, completely bypassing the System's usual robotic tone.

"Welcome, my heart of hearts," [VIP Void of Rebirth] spoke, the genuine affection in the cosmic entity's voice undeniable. "You're the first, won't be the last, but are my most precious. Have fun, and stay relatively safe."

Vesta’s draconic eyes widened slightly behind her welding goggles. 'I... I know this voice... It's the same voice that saved me...' She thought.

She let out a soft, raspy exhale, the tension bleeding out of her shoulders.

She didn't bow, but she offered a sharp, respectful nod to the creator who had pulled her from the nuclear fire of her own failing vault. "I'll try. No promises on the 'safe' part, though."

The projection then turned its attention to the man sitting behind the desk.

As Void of Rebirth looked at him, the System forcibly bypassed Vesta's stealth wards, revealing her full, unredacted status to the CEO.

[Entity: Vesta Aurelia Azerin]

[Title: Embodiment of Wrath]

[Class: Supreme Artificer / Biological Warfare Specialist]

Mordecai read the title—Embodiment of Wrath and then looked at the soot-stained girl who had just enthusiastically dissolved a boss monster into mist because it was leaking oil on the floor.

It was a terrifying title for a kingdom, but at Ravenloft Holdings, 'Wrath' was just another word for 'Aggressive R&D'.

"I knew I could trust you," Void of Rebirth addressed Mordecai, the entity's voice tinged with cosmic amusement and deep respect. "I dropped an anomaly in your backyard to test your empire, and you sent a janitor to mop it up. Just... take good care of her, alright? She's my treasure."

Mordecai didn't grovel before the deity. He treated the interaction exactly like what it was: a high-level B2B transaction with a cosmic headhunting agency.

"Ravenloft Holdings provides comprehensive benefits, unlimited resources for creation, and a highly supportive work environment," Mordecai replied, his corporate baritone smooth, professional, and unyielding. "Your 'treasure' is now my Chief Engineering Officer. We will utilize her Wrath efficiently. You have my word."

The starry avatar seemed to project a satisfied smile. "Excellent doing business with you, CEO. I'll keep watching you from the higher realms."

With a final flash of golden light, the projection dissolved, leaving the office quiet once more.

Mordecai reached forward and casually dismissed the lingering System window and looked at Vesta, who was already inspecting a magical lamp on his wall, clearly figuring out how to dismantle it to upgrade the wiring.

The night was almost over. The trap was almost set, the company was healed, and the executive team was officially complete.

Tomorrow, Nick the Chosen Hero was going to experience the absolute, unmitigated nightmare of a fully unionized, corporately funded, and atomically sanitized dungeon.

The true malicious compliance was about to begin.