Undercover Adventurer

The blue glow of the rune pulsed strongly before slowly fading away.

The Golem collapsed into fragments of stone, metal, and ash, leaving behind only scattered debris.

Hatz dropped to his knees, out of breath, covered in dust, sweat, and soot. The atrium was cloaked in a deathly silence. Only then did he realize he was still alive.

Against all odds… he had won.

And then, a new notification appeared:

[Secret Mission Completed]

"Extreme Cleaning: Class-Mini Boss Waste Elimination"

Reward: Rare Skill Unlocked!

You've proven even the most dangerous waste can be eliminated!

Hatz let out a choked laugh, which quickly turned into uncontrollable laughter.

As his voice echoed among the smoldering remains of the Golem, a new light began to form on his rune.

"Extreme… cleaning!" he cheered, then collapsed unconscious.

When he woke up, he had no idea how much time had passed. But the Golem's remains were still steaming.

Looking around, he saw a glowing liquid creeping dangerously close to his face.

He jumped to his feet, startled.

"Son of a—!" he shouted, realizing he had barely made it out alive.

He felt the weight of exhaustion, and sharp pain all over his body. But that didn't stop him from smiling as he confirmed it hadn't been a dream.

He quickly checked his status screen:

[Status]

User: Hatz

Class: NONE

Occupation: Dungeon Waste Collector

Current State: Alive and kicking

Level: 4

Class Level: 1

Experience: 235 / 400

Attributes:

• Strength: 8 (+1)

• Agility: 11

• Intelligence: 5

• Dexterity: 7

• Luck: 4

• Runic: 2

Available points: 4

[Assign]

"That's what I'm talking about!" he cheered, grimacing with pain.

Defeating the Golem had given him a full level-up and nearly half the EXP needed for the next.

He'd assign the points later, once he was sure how best to use them.

He checked his skills and felt a surge of excitement when he saw a new active ability:

[?????]

[Runic Crafting Lvl 1]

[?????]

[?????]

[?????]

[?????]

[Void Dumpster]

His eyes gleamed with anticipation. He selected the new skill:

[Void Dumpster]

(i) Creates an interdimensional space where you can deposit any type of waste. Only accepts inanimate matter and refuse. Does not include drops, weapons, or equipment. The user can later expel the stored items.

His eyes widened in shock. This… changed everything.

He activated it immediately, and a blue portal the size of a pumpkin materialized in midair.

"Holy trash, this changes the game!"

He ran over to one of the trash bags, lifted it (much easier than before), and threw it into the portal.

It swallowed the bag without issue.

"Expel!" he commanded, exhilarated.

Immediately, the bag reappeared and gently dropped to the ground.

He couldn't help but laugh mischievously, already thinking of all the possibilities.

With renewed energy, he started throwing bag after bag into the Void Dumpster.

He hauled in the remains of the other monsters, saving the Golem for last.

But there was a problem: moving that much debris was a nightmare.

Even in pieces, the remains were absurdly heavy. How did the foremen even move monsters that huge?

He tried pushing part of the Golem's arm, but it wouldn't budge. Then an idea struck him.

He canceled the skill and approached the center of the remains.

"Void Dumpster," he said, activating it between what used to be the Golem's core and torso.

To his amazement, the portal formed overlapping the debris, which began to tremble and get sucked in, bit by bit.

He had to repeat the process with the limbs and the head, but he was so delighted he didn't care.

He jumped for joy once the B3 floor was clean.

He didn't bother with the fluids—if anyone complained, too bad.

He moved up to B2, then B1, repeating the process with the trash bags he'd left behind.

He'd gathered enough for over two weeks of work… and that didn't even include whatever reward he might get for the dead Golem.

Before leaving, he reviewed his materials:

[Materials]

– [Arcane Grime] x48

– [Residual Essence Drop] x12

– [Burning Core] x1

[Items]

– [Weapon Ascension Material (Basic)] x6

– [Armor Ascension Material (Basic)] x2

He used [Runic Crafting Lvl 1] with some of the Arcane Grime, producing:

– [Weapon Ascension Material (Basic)] +10

– [Armor Ascension Material (Basic)] +6

The rest of the materials—especially the Burning Core—he'd save for later, once his crafting skill improved or he learned more about their value.

He picked up his mop again and examined it: the bristles were bluer now, and the handle sturdier.

He spun it in his hands and tried a few practice swings—awkward, but with more purpose than ever.

With a leap and a thrust, he realized something.

He didn't have to pretend anymore.

Now… he really was an adventurer.

When he emerged from the dungeon, a cold night breeze greeted him.

Torches lit the path ascending toward the starlit desert sky, giving it a magical, mysterious vibe.

Hatz adjusted his backpack, let out a long sigh, and set off for home.

When he found his battered cart, he was glad he wouldn't have to pull it—it meant the journey would be lighter, at least.

Exhausted, yet dreaming of what he might accomplish from now on, he began the long trek back.

Lit by the moon, just like the cherry tree that had granted him its power.

✦✦✦

When he saw the lights of Zeytharion's towers again, he quickened his pace. He opened the Void Dumpster and released three bags of waste.

He needed to stay under the radar, so he loaded up only what a regular collector would carry.

As usual, the gate guards paid him no attention—no one did. It was just another ordinary night.

He headed calmly toward Zone 3, smiling to himself as he felt how much lighter the cart was. His new strength was noticeable.

When he arrived at the DUCA headquarters, he saw one of his coworkers in front of the furnace, tossing in his bags.

It was Milton, one of the veterans. Short, chubby, with graying hair and skin weathered like old leather—he looked like he belonged to the building.

He was the one who trained Hatz when he started three years ago.

"Kid Hatz… out this late?" he greeted him without looking up, pushing a bag into the glowing chute.

"Got a little lucky," Hatz replied, hefting a bag onto his shoulder and throwing it into the furnace. "Three floors. That's as far as they went."

"Don't know if I'd call that lucky, boy… you only brought three bags," Milton grumbled, his mustache twitching in resignation. "You'll have to hustle to make your monthly quota."

"Trust me, that won't be a problem," Hatz said, dropping the second bag with some effort.

"Then you better run hard this week." Milton gave him a couple of pats on the shoulder. "But you're a good kid—that's for sure."

"I try… though I think I'll hit my quota much earlier," he leaned in and lowered his voice. "In fact, I'm thinking of taking tomorrow off."

Milton looked at him like he'd just uttered heresy.

"Are you nuts? With your quota so low, they'll drag you back here by your ears," he said, pulling out a flask and drinking without looking at anyone.

Hatz glanced around. At that hour, the night shift foreman barely showed his face. He was probably asleep—as always.

"Can I ask you a weird favor?" Hatz asked Milton.

The old man eyed him suspiciously.

"I guess… unless you want me to cover for you," he grunted, taking another swig.

"Trust me, it'll pay off. You might even get tomorrow off like me." Hatz winked.

"Ha! Like we used to say in the old magic academy: 'Anyone who pretends to sleep on night duty ends up married to a succubus,'" Milton snorted with a dry laugh.

"Close your eyes and turn around. It'll only take a few seconds," Hatz said with a smile, but his eyes were serious.

Milton frowned, sighed in resignation, and obeyed.

Hatz walked over to his friend's cart and activated Void Dumpster inside it.

When the small vortex appeared, he expelled ten bags. They landed carefully, making the cart creak under the weight.

"All right, you can open them now," said Hatz.

"Okay, this better not be some prank," Milton muttered as he turned around.

As soon as he looked, he froze. His cart was overflowing.

"What…?"

Milton didn't know how to react.

"I owed you since I got here. And this is just a taste. I'll bring you a lot more."

"Did you stuff these bags with random junk you found?" he asked, incredulous. "That's not okay, kid."

"Who do you take me for? I'm not one of those foremen," Hatz replied with a laugh. "Go ahead, check them."

Milton eyed him warily but complied. He opened one of the bags and found exactly what he expected—and what he didn't. Monster remains. Genuine. Fresh.

"What trick are you using, kid?" he asked quietly, glancing nervously toward the foreman's office. "You stealing gear from the bosses?"

"No, and even if I wanted to, I couldn't use it," Hatz shook his head. "That's part of the secret. For now, pull out your bags and wrap mine up."

Milton hesitated for a moment, then turned and quickly began removing his own bags. Hatz chuckled quietly and helped him.

Together, they wrapped Hatz's bags in Milton's. That way, the furnace's magical system would assign them to Milton and count them toward his total.

It was an old trick, used now and then to help those who fell behind on their quota.

"I don't know what you've done, kid—and I hope you don't get hanged for it… but thanks," Milton said with an emotional glint in his eye, though his voice stayed gruff.

"Don't worry. I still don't know what I'll do with one load I've got in reserve. It's a big one. You know… the kind we don't bring in ourselves."

"Product overload?" Milton asked, even more concerned.

"And the good kind," Hatz nodded. "Doesn't fit in bags. If I dump it unprocessed, it won't count…"

"And you're not planning to give a single coin to those snakes," Milton finished, nodding toward the foreman's office.

Hatz nodded again.

"Maybe I can grind it down or something… I'll have to figure it out," he said. Then he smiled again and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Things are starting to change, Milti. And I'm not forgetting my fellow workers."

"Whatever it is, kid, you better be careful," Milton warned seriously. "The bosses won't like you suddenly producing more than anyone else without a drop of magic. And I don't want to know what that 'heavy load' really is. But judging by how scorched you look… I think I can guess."

"Don't worry. I'll be careful. Now go be with your family. I've got you covered tomorrow if you need the day—"

"No. You've done more than enough," the old man interrupted. "Besides, you're the one who needs that day off. Take the little one for a walk up on the upper platforms."

"I will… if I wake up."

Milton let out a hoarse laugh.

"Get some rest—though you should take a bath first. You reek of dried goblin crap," Milton said, giving him a friendly smack on the shoulder.

"I will. But first… you know," Hatz replied, thumbing toward the furnace. Milton understood instantly.

"Of course! Go do your thing, kid. This old man's calling it a night," he said, shaking his hand. "Seriously, thank you. But I won't like it one bit if this all ends badly."

"I know. Trust me," Hatz nodded, watching him leave. Milton parked his cart and waved goodbye as he walked down the street.

Once his friend was gone, Hatz quickly summoned the Void Dumpster directly into the furnace's mouth and released the rest of the bags.

The Golem remains would have to wait. He needed a way to break them down into smaller loads.

It was finally time to go home.

But first, he rummaged through his backpack, looking for what little money he had left.

Just a few lums… but he had to celebrate somehow. So he took a shortcut and headed to a nearby commercial district, hoping something was still open at that hour.

He wandered through the alley of shuttered shops and dark windows until he spotted a bakery. It was closed, but luckily, the owner was sweeping the tiny terrace where customers normally sat during the day.

"Good evening, sir," he called, walking up. "Got anything left for a late takeout?"

Hatz opened his hand, showing the few coins he had. It was all he had left.

The baker, a man with drooping features and a thick double chin, looked at him sternly, then nodded and took the coins without a word.

"Nothing fresh, but I'll find something," he said as he slowly walked into the shop.

A few minutes later, he returned carrying two paper bags and one cloth bag.

"Here, take the cloth one. That's a Brumal Cream Cake," he said seriously. "The rest's a gift. Leftover bread and some poorly baked sponge cakes. Was going to toss them anyway."

"Really? Thank you so much, sir!" Hatz said, receiving the bags gratefully.

The man waved a hand, dismissing the thanks.

"You paid. And besides… my father was a waste collector," he added, with a faint smile like he was recalling distant memories.

"I see. I promise I'll come back more often—during the day, and with more money. Soon."

"No rush. Now go on and let me close up," the man said, returning to his broom.

"Have a good night," Hatz said as he left, getting a slight nod in return.

He walked briskly through the district, pleased with his loot.

He slipped through damp alleys connecting the main street with the lower residential sectors.

The Umbral District—one of Zeytharion's oldest and most neglected—stretched out like a web of run-down homes and scrap metal. Patched metal roofs, clotheslines strung between balconies, and the low hum of minor cores barely lighting flickering bulbs.

At the end of a narrow street, behind a concrete wall full of deep cracks, stood his home: a one-story shack made of salvaged wood, broken magical panels, and scrap metal.

But still, it was his safe place.

"Fiya," he called softly, gently pushing open the rusted metal door.

A small figure peeked from behind a makeshift curtain. Straight black hair, big amber eyes, and a serene expression that didn't match her age.

"You took your time," the girl said, arms crossed, though without a hint of reproach.

"Is that your way of saying 'Hi, big brother, I missed you'?" he replied, setting his bag and the food on the small table by the window.

"I missed you," she said. She walked over and hugged him tightly. "You're gross."

Hatz crouched down and wrapped her in his arms.

"Yeah, I know," he laughed, stroking her hair. "Did you eat anything?"

"I made soup with what was left. Added expired core powder. It helped the flavor, but I wouldn't recommend it."

"Fiya… did you eat core powder?"

"Just discarded D-grade stuff. I found it in the canal. I'm fine—I checked it with the toxicity tablet first."

Hatz looked at her with a mix of pride and horror.

"One day you're gonna give me a heart attack, you know that?"

"Probably. But I'll save you a lot of work if I make it to fifteen," she said with a sly smile.

He burst out laughing. Then pointed at the bags.

"I brought you something. Check the cloth one."

She obeyed immediately, and when she saw the cake, she hugged him again, even tighter.

"Thanks, Hatz."

"It's just for you. One of the best around. I'm gonna shower and be right back. You can start eating in the meantime."

"Yeah, yeah. Go on, O Great Sanitation Hero," she said, waving a rag like it was a banner.

He laughed and headed straight for the bathroom.

The bathroom was little more than an improvised room, with a toilet connected to a septic tank he had to clean every three days, and a shower made of metal pipes and a rusty tin spout.

The water was cold, but he was used to it. Far from bothering him, it felt like a cleansing—body and soul.

He had left his uniform soaking in a tin basin filled with detergent and water that Fiya always prepared each day.

While he showered, he checked his rune several times, opening the status panel just to reassure himself that it was all real.

When he finished, he stepped out wearing a patched-up towel, long pajama pants, and a worn black t-shirt stained with chemicals.

Fiya was waiting at the table. Pieces of bread and sponge cakes were perfectly sliced and arranged on plates that used to be product lids.

She hadn't touched the cake.

"I told you you could eat while waiting," he said, drying his head with the towel as he walked over.

"I hate eating alone," she replied, filling two cups with water.

"You're right," Hatz nodded, thinking about how lonely she must feel sometimes. No matter how mature she acted, she was still just a six-year-old girl.

"How did you get all this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"They gave it to me. I only paid for the cake," he said, grabbing a sponge cake with his left hand and hiding his right under the towel.

Fiya finally started eating her cake.

"Did you properly thank the one who gave you this gift?" she asked seriously, though she kept devouring the cake.

"Of course. He said his father was a waste collector too," Hatz replied, taking a bite of the cake. "By the Dragon Gods! This is amazing."

They were supposed to be poorly made sponge cakes… but they were delicious.

"I hope we can return the favor," she said plainly.

"We will. It's already planned."

"Alright then. That's fine."

Hatz smiled, glad to see her so chatty.

"Someday, we'll live on the upper platforms," he said with a grin. "In fact, tomorrow I'm taking you up there to eat somewhere nice."

"Did we win the lottery?" Fiya asked, giving him her usual poker face.

"Who knows… maybe something better happened," he said, winking.

"No secrets in this house."

"Consider it a surprise. You'll thank me tomorrow."

"We'll see," she replied, though her eyes sparkled with an excitement that nearly made him laugh.

They kept chatting while they ate—a kind of dinner they hadn't shared in a long time. He even managed to make his sister smile a few times.

Before long, Fiya started nodding off. She had probably been fighting sleep for a while.

Hatz wasn't much better off. So he picked her up, turned off the living room light, and stepped through the curtain into the bedroom.

It consisted of a bed made from wood scraps and an old mattress covered in patched-up blankets.

He laid her down gently, took off her sandals, and tucked her in. Then he went to his own corner—a thin mattress on top of cardboard sheets to keep the moisture out.

That night, he was tempted to check his rune again, but he didn't want to reveal his secret. Not until he was sure what it all meant.

He watched his sister sleeping and knew it had all been worth it.

He wouldn't stop until he kept his promise: to bring her to live on the upper platforms.

Tomorrow, the true climb would begin.

With that thought, he fell into a deep sleep.