I Was Summoned as the Academy’s Janitor… But I Accidentally Became the Most Overpowered Harem Protagonist?!
Chapter 48: Storm Below the Surface — The Dungeon Awakens and Secrets Unfold

Scene : The Great Tremor (Late Afternoon)

‎A thunderous quake rattled Velmara Academy’s foundations, sending shards of enchanted glass tinkling through the corridors like cursed wind-chimes. Zephyr Arclight, mop in hand, dashed from the Student Council Tower alongside Selena Frostveil, Rosalia de Glorieux, Arwen Galehart, and Whiskers—their familiar weaving between their legs in urgent bounds.

‎‎Dust and motes of mana swirled as they reached the Southwest Courtyard, where a jagged fissure had rent the marble floor. Glowing veins of ancient glyphs—long dormant—now pulsed with dark energy. Rosalia’s sapphire eyes flared.

‎‎ Rosalia (voice ringing): “That’s not just structural damage… those are pre-Founding wards, centuries old and unstable!”

‎‎Arwen knelt to inspect the cracked glyphs, frost condensing around her fingertips.

‎‎ Arwen: “These runes predate even Headmaster Greaves’s chronicles. Whoever bound this place meant to seal something powerful.”

‎‎Selena unfurled her Frostbrand Grimoire, pages flicking to a diagram of rumored Subterranean Ritual Chambers.

‎‎ Selena: “The Academy sits atop a hidden Proto-Dungeon—a vault for failed summoning experiments. This quake must have breached its outer seal.”

‎‎At Selena’s words, a low rumble echoed from the chasm. Rosalia raised her Purity’s Light, its golden glow cutting through the twilight.

‎‎ Zephyr: “We don’t have time to warn everyone—let’s go.”

‎‎He leapt across the widest gap, planting his mop’s bristles in the fractured marble to anchor himself. One by one, the group followed: Arwen’s frost boots gripping the stone, Selena’s wards humming as she descended, Whiskers slipping through the shadows like liquid night, and Rosalia’s light guiding them into the abyss.

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‎Scene : The Throne of the First Custodian (Deep Below)

‎‎Torchlight sputtered against damp stone walls as they entered the Proto-Dungeon’s main chamber. Ancient frescoes—depicting janitors wielding staves, not brooms—lined the walls, their colors faded but still discernible: “Here sat the First Custodian, keeper of worlds.”

‎‎The party advanced in tight formation. Dripping water echoed like distant whispers. Selena’s containment rune glowed at her wrist, and Arwen’s Sylvan Sight flared, revealing residual mana trails that led deeper.

‎‎At the chamber’s heart, beneath a vaulted arch of blackened obsidian, stood a massive throne—carved from a single slab of granite, its backrest curving into bristle-like spires. The seat, worn smooth, resembled a janitor’s chair. Yet no ordinary seat it was: etched into its arms were sigils of interdimensional binding.

‎‎Zephyr’s breath caught as he approached, mop raised instinctively. The runes along the throne pulsed to life, and a sonorous voice resonated in the chamber—deep, echoing, and ancient:

‎‎ Voice (omnipresent): “Heir of the Forsaken Custodian… you break the seals yet hold the key. Three truths shall guide you: the Summoner’s Error, the Custodial Ritual, and the Shadow Before Dawn.”

‎‎The chamber shook. Selena spun to Arwen.

‎‎ Selena: “This is no myth—this throne is an Anchor of Worlds. Whoever forged it meant to channel the Summoner’s power through a mundane vessel.”

‎‎Rosalia stepped forward, placing a trembling hand on Zephyr’s shoulder.

‎‎ Rosalia: “If this throne calls you Heir, then your mop was never a mere tool—it was the conduit for that ancient ritual.”

‎‎Whiskers leapt onto the throne’s armrest, silver eyes glowing as he nuzzled the runes. Arwen drew her bow, arrow tipped with frostfire.

‎‎ Arwen: “We need to decipher this prophecy before the Cult of Ruin awakens the throne’s full power. Zephyr, can you sense which sigil is the key?”

‎‎Zephyr knelt, running his fingers over the bristle-carvings. His mop’s phoenix-gold glow flared as he murmured the custodial invocation.

‎‎ Zephyr: “The left arm’s bristle is warm… it resonates with my Purification Aura.”

‎‎He pressed the bristle-spire. The throne’s sigils flared white, then dissolved into motes of light that drifted into his mop’s bristles. The chamber stilled; the vault’s oppressive weight lifted.

‎‎Selena exhaled in relief. “You’ve inherited the First Custodian’s legacy, but also its burden. This throne—and its secrets—will guide our next steps: how to protect Velmara… and perhaps, how to return those who were lost.”

‎‎Above, the fissure in the courtyard closed with a final tremor. In the torchlit gloom of the Proto-Dungeon, the Seven—Zephyr, Rosalia, Arwen, Selena, Whiskers, Drakynia (who arrived behind them with reinforcements), and Kael (standing at the entrance in shadow)—shared a charged moment of revelation and resolve.

‎‎ Drakynia (quietly): “So the mop’s magic wasn’t accidental. It was the First Custodian’s rite...”

‎‎ Kael (stepping forward): “Then we must guard this legacy. Together.”

‎‎Zephyr rose, mop in hand, eyes shining with newfound purpose. “Then let us seal this chamber once more—this time, to protect, not to imprison.”

‎‎He led them out, the throne’s calls fading into silence, the Proto-Dungeon’s secrets now at the heart of their united destiny.

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‎End of Chapter 48