Janitor System
Chapter 33: Janitorial Awakening

Chapter 33: Janitorial Awakening

The knight, still gasping for breath, clutched his ribs and tried to stabilize his legs.

He had fought many—students, rebels, deserters, even Academy elites in spars—but none had left him feeling like this. Not from pain alone, but from the weight of sheer bewilderment.

He blinked at Wesley, who still stood silently with the mop in hand, the anger in his eyes smoldering but not extinguished.

The knight had to admit—he hadn’t just underestimated the kid. He had misjudged something deeper.

What kind of training did this kid undergo...?

His thoughts spun.

The knight recalled other Mana-less noble offspring he’d encountered in the past.

Many noble houses had children who failed to awaken Mana and were quietly discarded to distant lands, given false posts or titles to save face. It was common knowledge.

One Baron’s son—weak, soft-spoken—had a predictable form. Overreliant on swordplay that never had the edge of real combat.

The knight remembered training with him: his swings too calculated, too hollow. A child mimicking moves he saw from his father’s soldiers.

He remembered a Viscount’s daughter who was sent to scrub floors in a mountain monastery because she couldn’t awaken Mana by fifteen. She had some spirit, yes, but her footwork always wavered when pressed. Even her will cracked when the spar turned real. The moment pressure rose, her stance collapsed.

Then there was the Earl’s nephew—arrogant little thing. He was trained well, sharp in stance, but his movements were too proud. Too rigid. When the knight had fought him, he broke through the kid’s guard in five moves.

But this Janitor...

This mop-wielding, angry-eyed, sharp-footed lunatic?

No. Not like them.

Wesley had weight behind his swings. Not the kind that came from power, but from conviction. From necessity. From... the ugly kind of survival training. His footwork wasn’t just learned—it was lived. Dodging, shifting, stepping in and out like someone who had no margin for error.

"Could he be from a Marquess line?" the knight wondered aloud in his mind, eyes narrowing.

There were always rumors that children born to Marquess or Ducal families trained with lethal instructors from birth.

Some were even branded with forbidden techniques—art that shouldn’t be taught unless bloodlines demanded it. His breath still struggled to return to normal.

Wesley hadn’t just attacked—he read him mid-fight. Adjusted.

But... he shook his head slightly.

Still no Mana.

That was the one detail that ruined the whole theory. No noble of true high lineage would fail to awaken their Mana this long. And yet... what if?

The knight slowly stood upright, brushing dust from his chest. His gaze never left Wesley. He made up his mind then.

"You," the knight said, voice calm now. "You have potential."

Wesley blinked.

The knight forced a smile, a faint tremor in the corner of his mouth. "Yes. I can tell. The flow in your movements—there’s power in you. Mana may sleep deep, but it’s there. All you need is training. Time. Effort."

Wesley’s eye twitched slightly. Bastard.

Of course, he was lying. Wesley knew he had already awakened his Mana. But clearly, the knight didn’t want to admit he’d lost to someone who didn’t have any. So this was his out—his excuse.

Tell the world Wesley has untapped potential and pretend this fight meant something nobler than it really did.

Or maybe he’s got some ulterior motive.

Internally, Wesley sighed. Whatever.

"Yes, sir," he replied, bowing slightly, his face calm. "Thank you for believing in me. I’ll do my best."

I’ll do my best to escape this damn place the first chance I get, he added in his head.

The knight smiled proudly, like he had uncovered a rare gem. "Good. Come tomorrow. We’ll train. I’ll make sure you awaken your Mana one day, even if it takes years."

Wesley gave a respectful nod.

Years my ass.

With a soft grunt, the knight stepped back and gave Wesley a short salute. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, posture stiff with effort.

As soon as he disappeared past the edge of the green flames, Instructor Heiron raised his wand again.

The emerald light flared like a wildfire being snuffed out, dissolving the silent dome in a soft breath of air. A gust rippled across the arena as the spell faded.

The world returned.

Noise returned.

And with it, came an eruption.

"What happened!?"

"Sir! What did you two talk about?"

"Did Janitor Wesley awaken his Mana!?"

Instructor Heiron held up his hand to silence the barrage of questions.

He cleared his throat.

"The knight has determined," he announced, "that Janitor Wesley has a chance. A chance to awaken his Mana—if he continues to work hard."

A heartbeat passed.

Then—

"KYAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

The girls screamed in delight.

The cheer was sudden, ear-piercing, and absolutely full of energy.

"Wesley the Janitor is going to awaken his Mana!"

"I knew it! He was never just a janitor!"

"I told you he had potential! Did you see how he held that mop?"

"JANITOR WESLEY! LET ME CLEAN WITH YOU!"

"WESLEY-SENPAI!!!"

Some of the boys groaned.

"Oh, come on..."

"He’s just a janitor..."

"Why is everyone cheering for him?"

But the girls shut them up almost immediately.

"It’s because he’s handsome!"

"He’s strong!"

"And humble!"

"And he uses a mop!"

"That’s so unique!"

"Better than your sword swings that look like you’re swatting flies!"

The boys quieted down, scowling.

Meanwhile, Wesley stood in the center of the crowd, utterly overwhelmed. His face twitched as the cheering continued. The words "Janitor Wesley" echoed across the arena like a chant. Some students were actually clapping. Others were already debating what kind of mana affinity he might awaken.

He didn’t know where to look.

He didn’t want to look anywhere.

He just stood there, mop in hand, and tried to act like he belonged—like this was part of the plan.

Heiron walked up to him and gave him a single approving nod.

"Not bad. From now on, I will make sure that your working hours are reduced, but the pay will remain the same," he said, nodding at Wesley. "Got it?" he asked. "Train hard," he added.

Wesley tried to smile.

Not because he was grateful.

But because he was already planning how to disappear now.

...

Now, after finally managing to slip out of the arena, Wesley trudged through the quiet hallway like a man who just escaped a life sentence—only to realize he left his backpack inside. His boots scuffed across the stone floor, his mop swaying across his back, and his heart? Heavy. Heavy with dread. Heavy with thoughts.

He grumbled under his breath, "What the hell did I get myself into?"

Pretending to be dedicated was supposed to help him escape. It was supposed to be a polite way of slipping out. But instead, it dragged him deeper—into a duel, into being called inspiring, into getting knight training.

If he knew his little white lie would snowball into this much attention, he would’ve just mumbled something about diarrhea and bolted straight out the back.

That would surely get him away from that cursed place.

And that knight—that annoying knight—he even saw through Wesley’s technique. Now the man probably believed Wesley was some sort of prodigy.

"Hah," Wesley huffed. "Me? Prodigy? If only they knew the truth."

The truth was, those movements, those stances, those reflexes—they weren’t that amazing.

Not in the eyes of Wesley’s family.

They were just the basics—moves every Grime child was taught before they even held their first proper training spear. Except all those skills had levels, ranks, and evolutions... all of which needed Mana to advance.

And Wesley, in his past, had none.

That was why he forgot most of them. No use remembering the extensions, variations, or mana-imbued forms of those techniques when you couldn’t even power them up. You’d just be a sword dancer pretending to be a fighter.

He let out a long breath. "Fck this system. Fck that arena. And f*ck that knight who nearly cracked my ribs."

But as the words barely left his lips, a sound echoed through his mind.

Ding!

Wesley froze.

A translucent blue screen materialized before him, glowing with a soft radiance.

System Message:

Congratulations! Through your valiant effort, you have upheld the sacred image of janitors across the Academy! You have demonstrated that cleaning and mopping are not to be underestimated—even by trained knights of the realm!

Wesley stared at the screen, blinking.

You have proven that diligence, persistence, and a well-swung mop can defeat traditional strength and outdated nobility.

By challenging—and defeating—a certified knight within the sacred bounds of an Arena, you have elevated the honor of janitorial combat arts!

Mop over sword. Bucket over blade.

From this day on, the System shall recognize your role as one of true importance.

Title Earned: Vanguard of the Sacred Mop.

Respect +5 (among janitorial staff)

Student Popularity +10

Knight Recognition +3

Gabe Envy Level: MAX

Wesley’s jaw dropped. "What the hell is this cheesy nonsense?!"

Because of your feat, new potential has awakened from deep within your soul.

Ding!

Reward: Innate Ability Unlocked — Janitorial Awakening.

Would you like to apply this Awakening to your current abilities?

"...Huh?"

He looked at the option blinking before him. He couldn’t help but furrow his brows. What the hell was Janitorial Awakening? He had never heard of something like that, and the system wasn’t even giving a preview?

But...

"It’s a system, right? Should be a good thing..."

He hesitated. Then tapped YES.

Immediately, the screen flared white, and a new panel loaded.

Analyzing host...

Syncing Innate Ability: Janitorial Awakening...

Abilities are now being converted to their awakened janitorial form.

Then the screen listed his new updated profile:

Name: Wesley Anatoly Grime

Age: 16 years old

Status: Mentally Unstable (Mild)

Title: Abandoned Grime Family Descendant | Vanguard of the Sacred Mop

Manas:

Mana Knight (5th Stage)

Mana Conjurer (5th Stage)

Innate Abilities:

Grime Family Spearmanship Heritage

Janitorial Awakening (New)

Abilities (Updated):

Grime Family Basic Spearmanship → Grime Floor-Sweep Arts (8/20 Star)

Flame Ember → Sanitized Flame Jet (3/6 Star)

Sword Slash → Mop Swipe (4/8 Star)

Flame Resistance → Scald Resistance (5 Star)

Nature Blitzing Fury → Nature Sparkle Sweep (2/8 Star)

Spear Flash → Janitor’s Piercing Shine (1/9 Star)

Wesley’s entire body locked up. He squinted and reread the screen three times.

"...WHAT. THE. HELL!?"

He clutched his head, staggering into a nearby wall like he was having an episode.

"Grime Floor-Sweep Arts!? Mop Swipe!? What kind of naming scheme is this!?"

He scrolled through the skill descriptions in a panic.

Grime Floor-Sweep Arts (8/20):

A powerful stance that increases mop control and trajectory. Can ricochet off solid surfaces. Crit chance against dirt: +45%.

Sanitized Flame Jet (3/6):

Unleash a hot wave of compressed fire to sanitize an area or incinerate enemies disguised as stains.

Mop swipe (1/6):

A concentrated thrust of a cleaning mop with such force that it pierces illusions, smudges, and even energy barriers. Doubles as a stain destroyer.

He kept scrolling. Each one was worse than the last.

Wesley slumped against the hallway wall.

"I’ve become... a meme."

He covered his face with both hands.

"This is my life now."

But he couldn’t deny the stats. Each skill had actual power, real synergy, and even upgraded stars. In raw numbers, he was objectively stronger.

But at what cost?

His pride?

His dignity?

His whole combat identity had been overwritten into a glorified janitorial joke.

Then another message popped up.

System Notice:

Janitorial Awakening is a rare evolution route. If mastered, it leads to the [Legendary Path: Custodian King].

Continue polishing your skills. Glory awaits.

"...Custodian King?" Wesley whispered.

"...Legendary Path?"

There was a pause.

He leaned off the wall. "Okay, maybe I can work with this."

He still felt like crying, but at least now, he had power. And judging from the cheer back in the arena, the recognition from the knight, and this weird-ass path, maybe—just maybe—this janitorial life had its perks.

He slowly took a step forward.

"Alright," he muttered, "Let’s go clean the next arena."

However, Wesley stopped when he saw a group of shadows ahead.