Cleaning the Forgotten Tower

"Well, this is my tower."

Professor Irian spread her arms wide as she spoke. The tower sat atop some mountain peak—I had no idea exactly where. I'd just been dangling from her hand as she flew us here willy-nilly. The moment my feet touched the summit, I couldn't hide my awe. The mana emanating from the mountain was immense. And all of it was flowing straight toward this tower.

I glanced at the professor's expression and clapped my hands politely. "What an incredible tower. The mana here is extraordinary." I kept piling on the compliments I could think of—not too over the top, just enough to put her in a good mood. Her shoulders twitched upward a bit at the flattery.

But honestly? It was a little disappointing. The tower was enormous, sure, but it looked rundown as hell. Dust blanketed everything, spiderwebs tangled in every corner. It reeked of long abandonment.

"When was the last time you visited here...?" I asked cautiously.

She crossed her arms, thought for a moment, then replied in a disinterested tone. "Last time was probably a hundred years ago. Yeah, it's been a while."

She floated up into the air using her mana and shot straight to the top in an instant. I stared blankly after her until her voice echoed down from above. "I've got stuff to handle, so I'm heading up first. You clean your way to the top, nice and thorough."

With that, she vanished. I let out a sigh. What could I even say? I'd seen this coming. My job now was to carry out her orders to perfection.

I looked up at the tower. All the way to the top, huh? Not sure I could finish today.

I approached the door and touched it. No response. Injecting some mana revealed the embedded spells had all withered away, drained of power. I tweaked the structure lightly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and infused them with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fresh mana. The core mechanisms were still intact, even if some spells were busted. The door creaked to life, slowly grinding open.

I sent a swarm of dolls inside first to scout. Once they confirmed it was safe, I stepped in.

The silence was oppressive, unbroken by any sign of use. Dust piled thick on the floor, proof no one had passed through in ages. The door looked even worse from inside—engraved spells shattered, the mana I'd just added dissipating into nothing. Hundreds of years without maintenance, easy.

I ventured deeper slowly. From the entrance, dolls sprang into action, sucking up dust, wiping walls as they advanced. I followed at a leisurely pace toward the grand hall visible ahead.

Decorations along the way were buried in dust or crumbled beyond recognition. The dolls tried restoring what they could, but most were rotted through inside. We scrapped them.

The hall opened up vast before me. Nothing special—just scattered debris that might've once been chairs or tables. Empty otherwise.

From the center, the first floor's layout was clear. Simple design: twelve paths radiating from the hall, stairs to the second floor opposite the entrance, and ten paths leading to rooms.

I checked each room methodically. Unclear what they'd been for, but traces of remaining furniture suggested lounges or amenities for visitors.

The dolls kept cleaning: smashing junk, burning it, purifying air and mana with spells, stripping away grime. Even with hundreds working in perfect sync, progress was glacial. Not slow, exactly—the floor was just that big. The central hall alone could've fit my three turtles easy. Bigger inside than out, thanks to magic. I sensed some spatial flow from my shrinkage spell training, but the higher-dimensional metaphysics were way beyond me.

In the process, we found a few items. Mostly trash, but the stele by the stairs to the second floor was useful.

Most text was eroded away, but it confirmed the tower had ten floors total.

"At this rate, no way I finish today." The first floor took three hours. Nothing much, just too damn spacious.

Next, the second floor. I eyed the stairs and sent dolls up first. Similar layout to the first—except the central hall was double-height.

I climbed slowly, gripping my turtles tight in both hands. Ready to shove them out as shields if anything lunged.

The ambient mana density made it feasible. My shrinkage spells would've drained me before, but now mana sloshed everywhere—I could maintain them all day.

The double hall was dust-choked, sculptures and paintings on walls unrecognizable. Only stone chairs and tables held shape.

Dolls cleaned it fast, lessons from the first floor honed into efficiency. Perfect division of labor, seamless coordination.

From the upper gallery, I scanned: ten rooms total across both levels. But entering felt off—unlike the first floor, weird mana oozed from them.

I tested the least sketchy one with a doll. It explored fine. Huge room: tiered desks and chairs in a semicircle around a central dais. Lecture hall vibes—I'd seen the setup before. Magic still held; no issues.

Then a cleaning doll signaled: something odd. I shifted my mind to it and saw a signpost with faded room labels.

Hard to read, but a few names survived. Mine was "Theory Classroom." I prioritized visible ones, starting with "Reading Room."

Doll entered: magic busted, dust everywhere, splintered wood scraps. Others followed, cleared debris, wiped clean—left it a blank slate.

Next rooms? Labels gone, all reeking weird mana. Safety unknown. Solution: flood 'em with dolls. Not my body at risk.

Prep for danger is key. And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠five dolls vanished.

What the—? Sent more; same. All upper-level rooms did it. Lower ones fine, but trashed like before.

Parked the vanishers, cleaned lowers first. Meanwhile, pondered the eaten dolls. Unsettling mana, vaguely familiar.

Ordered to clean, so max effort. No quitting. One doll fails? Send two. Three. All in.

Some zapped instantly, others left fragments. Pieced clues together after hundreds lost. Rooms had spatial rifts—dolls fell in.

Chill down my spine. Like Professor Irian's space gaps. That's why familiar. Rifts shredded everything.

Magic glitch, twisted space. No entering. Set up warning signs—for her eyes.

Can't fix it. No cleaning possible. Solid excuse to skip. Tell her later.

Second floor done. Bit incomplete, but I gave it all. Dolls sharper now—faster than first.

Third floor time. Second was messy; what's next? Tense, sent dolls up. Surprisingly intact.

Filled with endless bookshelves. I followed. Wood scent tickled my nose. Library.

Shelves stacked sky-high like stairs, tables and chairs atop. All preserved perfectly by magic. Spotless—no work needed.

Mana cleared my head. Prime study spot. Vast—dwarfed lowers. Stairs to fourth at the shelf-mountain peak.

Curious, climbed. Disappointing: all empty. Just licked my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lips and headed up.

At the summit, one shelf with books—ancient, worn. Pulled one.

"This..." My eyes widened. Blank cover, luxurious. Familiar format.

Opened carefully. Mana tome like her servant spell. Fire magic inside. Not my wheelhouse, but arrays screamed high quality.

Checked others: similar. Varied authors, styles, but elite spells. Her collection. Treasure trove.

Wanted to devour them, but cleaning first. Suppressed urge, sent dolls to fourth-floor stairs.

Fourth like first: rooms thick with mana residue. Workshops? Labs? Empty, unclear. Cleaned cautiously—quick now.

Fifth floor. Dorms—obvious from layout, remnants. Frayed magic lingered.

Oddest: spatial spell resizing rooms naturally. Magic circle in wall. Tested gently—room ballooned. But weakened; rift tore mid-cast. Yanked mana, reverted, stabilized.

Never again. Sighed relief.

Rooms linked to common lounge. Imagined heyday: meals, chats, tower life.

Cleaning tricky—much magic left. Risky: dolls sucked into rifts, space splitting mid-air, bisecting bodies. Sealed incidents.

Dozens more gone. Half my dolls left after half the tower. More to go.

Swallowed hard. Upper floors pulsed ominous mana.