Clack. Clack. Clack.
The sound of skeletal feet walking on ancient, blood-stained cobblestones echoed through the gloomy, oppressive corridors of the very dangerous [Labyrinth of the Flayed King].
It was an S-Rank dungeon, a place of nightmares where the walls literally pulsated with dark magic, and the floor was permanently slick with the remnants of fallen adventurers. The air smelled of iron, despair, and centuries of unwashed monsters.
It was, in short, an absolute hygienic disaster, where designers put 99% of their efforts.
Scrik. Scrik. Scrik.
Following the clack of the feet came the rhythmic, soothing sound of an industrial-grade mop sliding across the floor.
Larry, the Head of Logistics, also Executive Sanitation Specialist of Ravenloft Holdings, was on a stroll. He had his bag on the back, a bright yellow pair of heavy-duty rubber gloves, and now a name tag that glowed with pure, unadulterated corporate compliance. (Gently offered by Ugo.)
The janitor skeleton was in a fantastic mood.
The dungeon was incredibly dirty, which meant he had a lot of work to do. He loved his work because it made his master happy.
His Lord, the great CEO Aldmax (Mordecai), had tasked him with exploring the surrounding dungeons for the search of valuable assets while the executive team handled the corporate acquisition of the Alchemist.
Larry took this order very seriously. "Exploring" meant "Gathering materials to make master happy".
As he walked, his skeleton head—a skull with two glowing, innocent violet circles for eyes—bobbed to an internal, non-existent rhythm.
Up in the ether, a specific sub-sect of the Higher Realms chat was tuning in. While the main channel was exploding over Mordecai's 'Bro-Waifu' incident, the connoisseurs of peace and quiet had gathered in Larry's personal stream.
[HIGHER REALMS CHAT: LARRY'S ASMR SANITATION STREAM]
CleanFreak99: "Oh yes. Look at that mop technique. The figure-eight motion. Flawless."
BloodGodKhorne: "I CAME HERE FOR BLOODSHED, BUT I AM STAYING FOR THE STAIN REMOVAL. HOW DID HE GET THAT GOBLIN GORE OUT OF THE GROUT?!"
Relaxation_Station: "Shhh, guys, stop typing in all caps. You'll ruin the scrik scrik vibes."
Larry paused. In front of him, a massive pile of glowing, ultra-rare [Mythril Ore] and [Wyvern Fangs] lay scattered on the floor. It was the unlooted aftermath of a massive battle.
To an adventurer, this was a jackpot. To Larry, it was a tripping hazard.
He opened his dimensional trash bag—the [VOID RECEPTACLE]—and unceremoniously swept tens of thousands of gold coins' worth of legendary crafting materials into the bag along with a pile of dusty cobwebs.
He looked at the newly spotless patch of floor. He raised his right hand, extending his thumb in a bright, cheerful gesture.
👍
A soft, angelic 'ding!' sound effect actually manifested in the air. Larry nodded to himself and continued walking. .
Clack clack, scrik scrik.
Deeper into the labyrinth, the temperature plummeted. The corridors widened into a massive cavern. The air here wasn't just heavy; it was practically suffocating under the weight of someone's desperate need to look cool.
Standing in the center of the cavern, surrounded by the corpses of hundreds of high-tier Death Knights, was a young man.
He wore a high-collared black trench coat, unnecessary belts, and held two jagged daggers that exuded a dark aura. His eyes glowed with an eerie blue light. He had his hands stuffed into his pockets, trying to look as aloof and detached as humanly possible.
Around him swirled a massive army of shadows. They were edgy, jagged silhouettes of monsters and knights, radiating black smoke and dark energy.
This was Jin (Copyright Pending), the '[Monarch of the Dark Silhouette], a protagonist who had probably been betrayed by his party exactly one week ago and had decided the only logical response was to grind in a solo instance until he became a God.
"Arise," Jin whispered, his voice dripping with forced grit. "Serve me in death."
The corpses of the Death Knights began to twitch, dark smoke pouring from their armor as they prepared to join his edgy legion.
Clack. Clack. Scrik.
Jin blinked, breaking his edgy pose. He turned his glowing blue eyes toward the entrance of the cavern.
A skeleton janitor wearing rubber gloves, boots, and a bag full of spoons on his back was currently mopping the floor, humming a silent Scrik Scrik.
Larry saw a discarded, half-empty health potion bottle on the ground—an item Jin had dramatically tossed aside earlier. Larry picked it up, wiped it with a microfiber cloth, and tossed it into his trash bag.
He then looked at Jin. Larry raised his hand and gave a friendly thumbs-up.
👍
Jin frowned, his aura flaring violently. "A monster? No... a scavenger trying to steal my hard-earned loot. How pathetic. The weak always feed on the scraps of the strong."
Jin didn't see a fellow mob. He saw an EXP piñata holding a mop.
"Igris! Tusk! (Names altered for legal reasons!)," Jin commanded, pointing a dagger at Larry. "Annihilate him. Leave nothing but dust."
Two massive, terrifying shadow-generals leaped forward. One swung a colossal greatsword that cleaved the air itself, while the other began charging a devastating meteor spell. The sheer kinetic force of their approach cracked the stone floor.
Larry stopped mopping. He looked at the two shadow generals. He didn't see terrifying warriors of darkness.
He saw two entities completely covered in thick, black, toxic soot. They were radiating hazardous particulate matter (PM10) everywhere they walked. They were leaving footprints on his freshly mopped floor.
Larry's innocent, glowing eyes narrowed. He raised his thumb, turning his wrist sharply downward.
👎
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: SANITATION VIOLATION DETECTED. OSHA PROTOCOL INITIATED.]
The shadow greatsword, glowing with dark, world-ending energy, slammed directly into the top of Larry's head.
Sploosh.
The sword didn't cut. It didn't explode. The moment the edge of the blade touched Larry's corporate aura, the 'dark energy' was instantly identified as 'unauthorized grime'. The sword turned into a giant, soapy sponge.
The shadow general holding the sponge-sword froze, staring at his weapon in profound confusion.
Larry reached into his pocket and pulled out a bright pink spray bottle labeled [INDUSTRIAL MANA DEGREASER].
Squirt. Squirt.
Larry sprayed the two terrifying shadow generals directly in their glowing eyes. The effect was immediate and catastrophic to their edgy aesthetic. The black, smoky aura clinging to their bodies instantly dissolved, replaced by the fresh, invigorating scent of lemon-pine. Their jagged, scary armor smoothed out, shining with a mirror-like polish.
"What?!" Jin yelled, his eyes widening. "My shadows! What did you do to their aura of despair?!"
Larry didn't stop. He moved with the terrifying, unyielding speed of a janitor who only had ten minutes left on his shift. He dashed into the middle of Jin's army.
Scrik! Scrik! Scrik! Scrik!
He wasn't fighting. He was dusting. Larry pulled out a magical, extendable Swiffer and began frantically dusting the edge off of every single shadow soldier.
"Stop! Stop it!" Jin screamed, watching in absolute horror as his terrifying legion of the undead was systematically sanitized. "They are the embodiment of my trauma! They are the darkness in my soul!"
Larry paused. He looked at Jin, then looked at the shadows. The shadows were panting, looking exhausted. They had been fighting for 72 hours straight without a single break.
Larry's corporate programming kicked in. He pulled a small, glowing clipboard from his pocket. (In truth, it was Mordecai's magic. He was using [Reveal Magic] from his ergonomic bone chair, and gave his powers to Larry.)
[ANALYZING LABOR CONDITIONS...]
Compensation: 0 Gold/Hour.
Benefits: None.
Working Hours: Infinite.
Environment: Toxic (Pre-Cleaning).
Conclusion: Severe exploitation of independent contractors.
Larry walked up to the towering shadow general (who was now smelling strongly of lavender and shining like a new car) and reached into his void bag, pulling out a neon-yellow, high-visibility safety vest. He gently placed it over the general's armor. Then, he handed the general a union registration card.
The shadow general looked at the card. He looked at the vest. A single, glowing tear of profound relief appeared in his eye. He didn't have to be edgy anymore. He just wanted a lunch break.
The entire shadow army stopped glowing ominously. They all sat down on the floor, crossing their legs, officially going on strike.
[HIGHER REALMS CHAT: LAUGHING THEMSELVES TO DEATH]
UnionRep44: "LARRY JUST UNIONIZED THE SOLO LEVELER'S ARMY! I AM CRYING!"
Edgelord_Tears: "He took away their edge! He literally polished the edge off their swords! They are completely blunt!"
GuildMaster_Bob: "That's what you get for not providing dental, Jin!"
"NO! ARISE! I SAID ARISE!" Jin screamed, his voice cracking as he desperately tried to command his troops, but they weren't responding.
Then, he tried to dash against Larry and hit him with a totally random/acrobatic 240 slash combo, but it was futile. He didn't even have the time to do something.
Larry walked up to the screaming, edgy teenager at a very dangerous speed and then pulled out a small, wet wipe. With a swift, gentle motion, he wiped the dramatic smudge of dirt off Jin's cheek.
Larry patted the boy on the head, gave him a cheerful 👍, and went back to mopping the hallway, going deeper into the dungeon.
Jin fell to his knees, his entire worldview completely shattered by a skeleton janitor. The 'Solo Leveling' grind had been permanently halted by human resources.
"Impossible... He could've killed me so... easily..." He said, in a shocked voice, as he ran towards the dungeon exit, leaving his shadows behind.
Leaving the unionized shadows behind to negotiate their collective bargaining agreement, Larry wandered into the third level of the Labyrinth.
Here, the dungeon changed. The walls were lined with ancient, skeletal remains embedded in the stone. Most adventurers would feel profound dread. Larry just felt annoyed by the calcium deposits.
As he swept a pile of loose debris, his mop hit something that didn't immediately turn to dust.
It was a small, perfectly preserved pile of bones. Unlike the surrounding skeletons, which were stained with dungeon grime, these bones glowed with a strange, pristine white. They resonated with a very faint, familiar energy.
Larry stopped. He stared at the bones.
He didn't have a brain, but the soul-link he shared with Mordecai sparked with a sudden realization. He felt... a connection.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: NEW GESTURE UNLOCKED!]
Larry raised his right hand. He extended his index finger and his thumb, placing them beneath where his chin would theoretically be on his void-like face. He rubbed his 'chin' in a gesture of profound, philosophical thought.
🤔 [CHIN SCRATCH]
Mh, Larry thought, channeling his inner CEO. These assets feel familiar. They belong to the company.
Without a second thought, Larry grabbed the pile of bones and shoved them safely into his [VOID RECEPTACLE]. He didn't know why, but he felt like his Master would appreciate the acquisition of this specific calcium deposit.
He gave the empty spot on the floor a 👍 and continued his march toward the Boss Room.
"HEALER! I NEED MANA! THE MINOTAUR IS ENRAGED!"
The scream echoed down the corridor, entirely ruining the peaceful, rhythmic scrik-scrik of Larry's mop.
Larry turned the corner to find a scene straight out of a generic, trash-tier fantasy anime.
A party of four adventurers—a heavily armored tank screaming loudly, a scantily clad female mage casting fireworks, a rogue flipping around uselessly, and a crying healer—were currently being absolutely demolished by a towering, muscle-bound beast.
It was a [Blood-Gorged Minotaur]. It was fifteen feet tall, completely covered in fresh gore, sweat, and visceral fluids. It swung a massive, rusted axe that dripped with tetanus.
"We have to sever its horn!" the Rogue yelled, doing a backflip that accomplished absolutely nothing. "If we sever the horn, we can sell it to the Alchemist Guild, and we can cook its ribs for a massive stat boost!"
"I'm out of MP!" the Healer cried, tripping over her own overly-long robes. "This is the end! Forgive me, Kerito-kun!"
Larry stared at the scene.
To the adventurers, this was a life-or-death struggle against a terrifying dungeon boss.
To Larry, this was an active biohazard blocking the hallway.
The Minotaur roared, raising its rusted axe to cleave the crying healer in two. It was a dramatic, slow-motion moment of despair.
Larry didn't run to save her. He simply kept walking since he had a schedule to keep.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The Minotaur, noticing the approaching skeleton janitor out of the corner of its eye, turned its massive, bloodshot gaze toward Larry. It snorted, changing the trajectory of its axe to crush the annoying skeleton, probably sensing his monstrous aura.
The rusted axe slammed down.
Larry didn't even look up. He casually raised the wooden handle of his mop, intercepting the colossal strike with one hand.
The kinetic impact that should have shattered the floor simply ceased to exist.
The adventurers gasped, their jaws hitting the floor. The skeleton figure had effortlessly blocked a boss-tier attack with a cleaning implement.
Larry looked at the Minotaur. He looked at the blood. He looked at the sweat. He looked at the rusted axe.
👎
"Consuming raw, uncertified dungeon meat violates Health Code 402, Paragraph B," Larry's system translated his intent into a floating, neon-blue text box for the adventurers to read. "Furthermore, this entity is a walking vector for infectious disease. It must be sanitized." (Mordecai was talking)
Larry pushed the mop forward.
He didn't hit the Minotaur. He simply started wiping the floor, completely ignoring the monster's physical mass.
He walked through the Minotaur.
The moment Larry's mop touched the monster's hitbox, the concept of 'cleaning' overrode the monster's physical programming. The Minotaur didn't take damage; its textures were simply scrubbed out of reality.
Starting from the hooves up, the massive beast was erased like a whiteboard drawing hit with a wet sponge.
The gore vanished. The muscles vanished, and the rusted axe turned into a flurry of clean, white bubbles. Of course, he put the axe into the void inventory, probably thinking, "Master will be happy!"
Within exactly three seconds, the terrifying Blood-Gorged Minotaur was gone. The only thing left in its place was a perfectly clean, gleaming square of cobblestone that smelled of fresh pine.
The four adventurers sat on the floor, absolutely petrified, staring at the empty space where the boss had been.
Larry pulled out a bright yellow, plastic foldable sign and set it down on the clean spot. It read: [CAUTION: WET FLOOR. SLIP HAZARD.]
He turned to the terrified adventurers. He noticed the healer was covered in dust from falling over. Larry quickly pulled out his lint roller, gave the screaming healer a swift, professional roll to remove the dust from her robes, and then stepped back.
He gave the traumatized party a bright, cheerful thumbs up.
👍
Then, he picked up his mop and continued walking down the corridor. Clack clack, scrik scrik.
"Did... did that skeleton just erase the boss with a mop?" the Tank whispered, his brain completely unable to process the event.
"He... he lint-rolled me..." the Healer cried, looking at her perfectly clean robes. "I think we just met God."
"We must... inform... the guild---ah..." the rogue whispered, before passing out.
Finally, Larry reached the deepest part of the Labyrinth.
A massive, towering door made of bone and sinew stood before him.
Larry sprayed the door handle with fantasy antibacterial spray, wiped it down, and pushed it open.
The Boss Chamber was an architectural nightmare. It was a massive colosseum of flesh and blood. In the center sat the [Flayed King], a colossal, grotesque amalgamation of muscle, bone, and dark magic. It wore a crown of jagged iron and held a scepter made of screaming souls.
It was the ultimate, edgy, final boss of a dark fantasy novel.
The moment Larry stepped inside, the room plunged into an eerie, dramatic red light. An operatic choir began chanting in faux-Latin.
The Flayed King slowly rose from his throne of gore, his voice booming with world-ending reverb.
"MORTAL..." the Flayed King bellowed, the sound shaking the very foundations of the dungeon. "YOU DARE ENTER MY SANCTUM? I AM THE LORD OF AGONY. I WAS BETRAYED BY THE GODS THEMSELVES! MY PAIN HAS BECOME MY POWER! FOR TEN THOUSAND YEARS, I HAVE WAITED FOR ONE TO CHALLENGE MY REIGN OF BLOOD!"
The boss was initiating its mandatory, unskippable, five-minute tragic backstory monologue. This was the moment where the heroes were supposed to tremble in fear and realize the depth of their enemy's sorrow.
Larry, however, was looking at the floor.
The floor was a lake of blood. The walls were covered in viscera. The throne was unsanitary.
This wasn't a boss fight. This was a Level 5 Biohazard Emergency.
Scrik. Scrik. Scrik.
The Flayed King paused mid-monologue. He looked down.
The skeleton janitor was currently mopping the lake of blood at the base of the throne. Larry was aggressively wringing out his mop into a bucket, completely ignoring the operatic choir and the world-ending aura shaking the walls.
"DO NOT IGNORE ME, INSECT!" The Flayed King roared, his voice a mix of ancient agony and terrible fantasy writing. "FEEL THE WRATH OF A THOUSAND BETRAYED SOULS!"
The boss initiated Phase 1.
Massive spikes of crystallized blood shot out from the ground, aiming to impale the skeleton, but Larry was completely ignoring him.
He just kept analyzing everything with cold efficiency: this place was disgusting, a living violation of every health and safety regulation of Ravenloft Holdings. His Master would have been furious if he hadn't removed every trace of bacteria from this dungeon.
And in that moment, the unthinkable happened.
One of the blood spikes, instead of hitting Larry, struck the pouch hanging from his belt. The leather tore open, and dozens of metal spoons—the precious collection Larry had meticulously cataloged for Mordecai—tumbled out.
Clink. Clang. Clatter.
The spoons bounced across the filthy floor, landing in the necrotic muck and the boss's infected blood.
The silence that followed was more terrifying than the Flayed King's roar.
Larry stood frozen, staring at a small teaspoon now coated in greenish slime.
'Skrik Skrik,' Larry sighed. He didn't even look up at the boss. He simply tapped the end of his mop against the floor with a sharp, authoritative click.
His [Custodial Rage] was finally activated, and his eyes started to burn of an intense bloody red.
[SKILL UNLOCKED: DEEP CLEANING SANCTUARY (DOMAIN EXPANSION PARODY)]
A blinding, pristine white light erupted from Larry's mop. The domain rapidly expanded at light speed, overriding the dark fantasy aesthetic of the boss room.
The operatic choir was abruptly cut off, replaced by the smooth, relaxing elevator music used in Ravenloft Holdings' waiting rooms.
The dramatic red lighting vanished, replaced by bright, sterile, flickering fluorescent office lights, and the walls of flesh instantly transformed into pristine white subway tiles, perfectly grouted.
The spikes of crystallized blood, upon touching the edge of the domain, transformed into harmless streams of soapy water scented with lemon.
The Flayed King stared in absolute horror as his legendary lair was converted into what looked like a newly inaugurated luxury public restroom.
"WHAT IS THIS TRICKERY?!" the boss screamed, realizing his stats were plummeting. The 'Gore' environment buff had been replaced by a 'Sterile' debuff, reducing all dark magic damage by 99%.
[HIGHER REALMS CHAT: ABSOLUTE HYSTERIA]
RuleLawyer: "HE TOUCHED THE SPOONS. You never touch a level 99 logistics employee's spoons. The Flayed King just signed his death warrant for violating sanitary protocol!"
CleanerMain: "Look at Larry. That's not the look of a skeleton who wants to kill. That's the look of someone who just saw a customer walk over a floor he just mopped. It's over."
"I WILL CRUSH YOU IN MY SECOND PHASE! BEHOLD, MY TRUE FORM!" The Flayed King began to mutate. His muscles expanded, and he prepared to launch into a high-speed, frenzy attack that would bounce around the room at Mach 2.
Larry finally raised his gaze toward the Flayed King. There was no hatred, only a deep, bureaucratic disappointment. He reached into his infinite inventory and pulled out a bright yellow plastic sign, placing it directly over the pool of blood remaining under the boss.
[CAUTION: WET FLOOR. DO NOT RUN.]
The Flayed King launched himself forward for his ultimate attack—and instantly slipped.
Because the floor was, legally and physically, considered "wet" within the bounds of the warning signs, the game's physics engine forcefully applied a "Slip" status effect to any entity moving faster than a walking pace.
The terrifying, colossal boss went flying backward, his legs comically slipping out from under him, and slammed headfirst into the pristine white tiles with a humiliating SPLAT.
[HIGHER REALMS CHAT: ABSOLUTE HYSTERIA]
RuleLawyer: "THE WET FLOOR SIGN HAS PRIORITY OVER THE BOSS'S AGILITY STAT! I AM LOSING MY MIND!"
CleanerMain: "Larry is the strongest entity in this universe. He defeated an S-Rank boss with occupational safety hazards."
The Flayed King groaned, trying to push himself up, his crown knocked askew. "My... my tragic backstory... my endless agony..."
Larry walked up to the fallen king. He looked down at the grotesque monster.
Larry raised his thumb. Then, he slowly turned it downward.
👎
Larry pulled out his massive, black [VOID RECEPTACLE] trash bag. He opened it wide.
"As per Ravenloft Holdings regulation, hazardous waste must be contained and removed from the operational environment," Larry's system translated.
Larry aggressively swept his mop, pushing the staggering, humiliated Flayed King toward the bag. The boss tried to resist, but the sheer, conceptual weight of "being cleaned" was too powerful.
With a final, pathetic cry of "But I have a third phase...!", the Flayed King was shoved into the trash bag.
ZZZZZZZZZ-SHOOOP!
Larry tied the bag shut in a neat knot. He slapped a [BIOHAZARD - DO NOT OPEN] sticker on it.
DING!
[DUNGEON CLEARED: THE LABYRINTH OF THE FLAYED KING]
[HYGIENE RATING: S++]
[REWARDS: 15,000,000 EXP. 500,000 GOLD COINS.]
Larry didn't care about the EXP or the gold. He looked around the brightly lit, sterile, perfectly clean room. The air smelled of lemon and bleach.
Larry placed his hands on his hips. He nodded, profoundly satisfied with a job well done.
He gave the empty room a final, happy thumbs up.
👍
Then, Larry hoisted the massive trash bag over his shoulder, picked up his mop, and scratched his head, like he was saying, 'And now?'
In that moment, Ugo answered his call.
"Efficient job, Larry. It's time to come back." He said.
In that moment, a big, black portal opened in front of him, and Larry immediately stepped through, with a lovely Clack-Clack.
It was finally time to file his audit report and give his Master the weird bones he found.
Clack clack, scrik scrik.