Bug Fix Complete
Dungeons have janitors too. Not metaphorically—real ones. Their job is to collect the corpses inside so monsters don't multiply, and to keep the dungeon's cleanliness at a certain level. Most of them work legally, so they're called "white cleaners." If they dip just a toe into slightly illegal territory, they might delete records found in the dungeon so the first discoverer can monopolize them perfectly—and that's still barely legal. But as always, some people cross the line entirely. They erase evidence of crimes committed in the dungeon, or go even further by sabotaging raids. The former might be debatable, but calling the latter "cleaners" is questionable. Anyway, they're all lumped together as "black cleaners."
Before making contact with the group suspected to be cleaners, Amon spoke to his party members.
"In my opinion, those guys look like black cleaners. What do you all think?"
> I agree. That's not equipment cleaners use.
Bens, the mute sniper, guessed via the water buffalo tank's telepathy. The other party members agreed as well. Kashi Iliya, who had suffered the least backlash in the party so far, was the only one betting against the grain.
"If I win, you all owe me five bucks each."
With such trivial banter, the party approached the cleaners. Amon, sword in one hand, waved with the other and called out to them.
"Hello. By any chance—Ack!"
But before he could finish the greeting, an arrow flew straight at Amon's head. He dodged it and looked at the cleaners. One of them was aiming a crossbow.
"Yeah, these are definitely black cleaners."
And their backs were reeking of guilt. As if affirming Amon's words, the cleaners charged at his party.
The warrior with the hand axe targeted Bens, the mute sniper. But she didn't even glance at him.
"Moo!!"
Thwack!!
Torso the water buffalo tank's punch, shield in hand, nailed the axe warrior right in the temple. The warrior's body spun through the air and flew off into the distance. The shockwave from the flying human ruffled Bens's bangs. Undeterred by the wind pressure, she pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The cleaner targeting Kashi's back arched like a bow and tumbled forward. After her successful snipe, Bens activated stealth and relocated. She didn't forget to thank Torso on the way.
> Thanks.
"No problem!"
Torso flashed a thumbs-up and shattered the cleaners' formation.
Meanwhile, elsewhere, Vox the ogre heavy gunner was busily crafting bombs. As he made them, Hen the androgynous utility mage hurled them with telekinesis—whoosh!
Boom boom boom!
The cleaners exploded under the absurd bombardment.
"Ooh... It's artistic...! Explosions might just be true art...!"
Hen muttered dangerously, and Vox chuckled in agreement beside them. The horde of cleaners had dwindled to half in no time.
One cleaner shouted,
"Why the hell are guys like this operating on this floor?!"
For their level, the cleaners were mid-to-lower tier in this dungeon. They were confident they could wipe out any party they encountered here without leaving evidence. That's why they'd attacked Amon's group without a word. But it was a miscalculation.
Amon's party were the hunters.
The cleaners felt a bit wronged, though. 'The scan didn't show them this strong!'
The basics of survival in this world: pick your fights. That's why those in shady work always equipped scan gear or mystic eyes as standard. To them, Amon's party looked unremarkable. Their augmentations were mid-floor level, gear suitable for mercs operating here. Bens had a lot of augments, but nothing threatening. And Amon, with no augments at all? Written off as irrelevant.
They thought victory was assured—until Amon decapitated two warriors in one go.
"Grab that guy!"
"How can you not catch just one?!"
Amon weaved through the cleaners like a storm, harvesting necks. Victory had seemed certain. But Amon was a variable that flipped the odds.
The cleaners panicked at his unfamiliar movements, unable to respond properly, and were swept away.
"He has no augments! So what's that?!"
"Never heard of essences like that!!"
The Sky Step essence allowing double jumps in midair—they knew of it. Unexpected for this floor, but possible. But near-teleport steps? Abrupt L-turn maneuvers? Unheard of. They couldn't imagine it was Sky Step applications and feared the unknown essences.
Finally, one cleaner yelled,
"Get the flamethrower!"
"He dodges bullets— that won't work!!"
"Just do it!"
The cleaner who'd spoken opened the flamethrower's fuel tank and dumped it on the floor. Fuel soaked the corridor. Ignoring his comrades, he lit it with a lighter.
Whoosh!
Flames filled the hall with the sizzle of searing air. Not just Amon's party—some cleaners who hadn't gotten the signal got caught too.
Aaaagh!
Cleaners writhed on the ground in agony. Fire suits or not, they weren't invincible.
"Behind me!"
Torso herded his party to a corner, using his shield as a firewall to protect them.
The cleaner who'd set it off smirked at the blaze.
"Now. Let's run."
They'd shown their faces, but survival mattered more. He turned to flee with the survivors.
"That fire'll melt their shoes—they won't chase."
He figured Amon's essence involved shoes somehow. Just as he prepared to bolt, a dagger pierced the flames.
Before he could react, it punched through his forehead. He died with eyes wide open.
The cleaners' gazes followed the dagger's path. Amon leaped through the fire.
Their eyes naturally went to his shoes. They were definitely scorched. Reddened soles peeked from the melted bottoms.
But he'd just double-jumped. Whatever the situation, one thing was clear: they couldn't beat him.
As the cleaners collapsed in panic, Amon's grumbling reached their ears.
"Hot hot hot. Balancing looks and performance is so hard. This gear's all limited edition. How am I gonna replace it..."
He brushed off his blood- and soot-caked clothes and approached. Before they could speak, a flash sliced their necks.
Only after the flames died down did Amon rejoin his party—limping on blistered soles.
They worried about his condition.
"Hey, you okay?"
Kashi eyed him with concern. Amon shook his head.
"Nope. Hurts like hell."
Side earlier, now soles. Dizzying pain shot to his brain—nerves clustered there, driving him mad.
The ogre heavy gunner comforted him.
"I'm an elite ogre. I know burns. If it hurts, it's second-degree with live nerves! Congrats! Treatable and recoverable!"
"Yeah, thanks for the pep talk."
"But infection's a bitch. Someone carry him to the exit."
Vox scanned the group. His eyes landed on the two frontliners. Torso shook his head.
"Sorry. Shield's half-melted from the fire. Fingers and arm nerves are off—can't carry."
Gazes shifted to the last one.
"Me?"
It was spear-wielder Kashi. She pointed at herself.
"I'm a girl, though?"
Obviously a joke. She was already handing her spear and gear to others to piggyback Amon.
He hesitated onto her back. Awkward, but she hoisted him easily.
Hanging off her back, Amon joked,
"Normally I'd be the one carrying for the shot."
"That's a stereotype. Why can't a girl carry a guy?"
"You just said you were a girl."
"Meaning I can because I'm a girl."
"Yes, yes, you're amazing, lady warrior."
With such banter, Amon clung on. Kashi adjusted his position a few times.
"Hey, hold on properly. You're squirming—not sticking right."
Reluctantly, he pressed against her back. His chest met hers; his head settled beside hers. Amid soot and blood, his sweat scent hit her nose.
"Ack."
"What, smell bad?"
"Tolerable."
"Sorry. Got any air freshener or perfume?"
"You bring that to a dungeon?"
"Fair."
His scent invaded her nostrils, hitting her brain—body heated reflexively. Not love; like alcohol. Outwardly, same old Kashi. Just a slight wobble now and then.
Before moving, Amon halted the party.
"Oh, right. Shouldn't we check what the cleaners were trying to erase before leaving?"
"I handled it. You head to the surface, Amon."
Hen waved it off, and they headed out. The rest of the way was smooth.
On the drive to the hospital with Amon loaded in, Vox at the wheel spoke up.
"Before we left the dungeon. Something I gotta say. Okay here?"
"Go ahead."
Hen in the passenger seat nodded.
"We cleared the job safe. No disbanding the party now, right?"
"Isn't saying that jinxing us?"
"...Huh? My fault? Sorry."
Puhaha! Laughter erupted at Vox's blunt apology. The car headed to the hospital amid raucous cheer. The party, once fearing jinxes, truly opened up.
Sadly, the drive was too short for deep talks with their new bonds. Saving sincerity for later, they dropped their leader at the "hospital."
Before unloading, Torso asked worriedly,
"You got insurance?"
"Yeah, don't worry."
Part of the 3-dollar group's contract. They paid only 150k monthly "protection" in exchange for covering Amon and Sonia's premiums and treatments forever. Amon, expecting injuries in merc work, had haggled hard for it. Vatican-routed payments would cover hospital stays—no worries.
Bens, sensing from gear and essences he wasn't some chaebol bastard, asked,
> You're loaded with gear and essences... chaebol heir or what?
"Nah."
> Phew, good.
The party sighed in relief. Thus, Amon rode Kashi's back to the hospital. And like last time, lying in bed...
"AMOOOOON!!!"
Sonia burst into the room, face a mess of tears and snot.