The first place where Larry was sent was the Abyssal Chasm of Torment.
This dungeon was exactly as its name suggested: a Lovecraftian nightmare of impossible geometry and eternal suffering. Toxic green miasma clung to the jagged black rocks, and the distant, agonizing shrieks of damned souls echoed through the cavernous depths. The crushed bones of a thousand fallen heroes littered the entrance, a grim warning to any adventurer foolish enough to step inside.
Basically, that one place where creators put 100% of their efforts into creating it, while completely 'forgetting' the other parts of the story.
Mordecai would simply say "Wait 100 years. Starvation has a 100% mortality rate."
To anyone else, it was hell.
To Larry, instead, it was a catastrophic violation of HACCP protocols and basic workplace health and safety regulations.
Clack. Clack.
Larry stood at the precipice of the dungeon. He slowly adjusted his oversized, heavy-duty brown leather work gloves, his empty eye sockets glowing with a warm, determined violet light. With a swift, practiced motion, he drew two mirror-polished silver spoons from his utility belt, crossing them in front of his ribcage. He held them exactly like the legendary twin daggers of a Level-100 Master Rogue. The cleaning crusade had begun.
As he descended, the lower-level monsters—hellhounds, ghouls, and skeletal warriors—completely ignored him. To their primal instincts, Larry was just another low-level undead minion, a mindless piece of the dungeon's background. They watched him pass with bored, glowing eyes, assuming he was just wandering toward some meaningless task assigned by the Abyss.
Larry didn't mind the lack of attention. In fact, he preferred it. It allowed him to work without interruption.
Scrik-scrik. Clack.
[SYSTEM TRANSLATION (LARRY): "The local fauna is surprisingly well-behaved today. However, this pool of coagulated blood requires industrial bleach. Your exposed intestines, Mr. Zombie, are a severe slipping hazard. Please tuck them in or prepare for immediate sanitization."]
Eventually, Larry reached the 99th floor while gathering every kind of possible material to give to his master, using his spoons to remove dirt and discover things like hidden gems or old weapons.
Then, he stood in front of the massive stone doors that gave way to the throne room of the [Abyssal Demon Lord of Sin.]
The boss was a towering, grotesque amalgamation of rotting flesh and oozing pustules. It was, quite literally, the dirtiest thing Larry had ever seen.
"FOOLISH UNDEAD!" the Demon Lord bellowed, its voice shaking the walls. "YOU DARE ENTER MY—"
The Demon Lord paused, confused. The little skeleton wasn't attacking. He wasn't even looking at him. Larry had noticed a patch of particularly gross, slimy moss on a nearby stalagmite and was already furiously polishing the rock.
Scrub-scrub-scrub.
"ARE YOU IGNORING ME?!" the Demon Lord roared. In a fit of rage, it unleashed a torrent of highly corrosive, black acid directly at the little skeleton.
Larry casually stepped back, but a single, tiny drop of the foul liquid splattered onto the tip of his newly conjured, bright yellow rubber cleaning boots. (System Gift~)
Larry froze. He looked down at the dark stain on his pristine boot.
The warm violet glow in his eyes vanished. For a fraction of a second, the cavern was plunged into darkness. Then, two roaring torches of violent, crimson hellfire ignited in his skull.
[SYSTEM ALERT: MINION 'LARRY' HAS EXPERIENCED A UNIFORM VIOLATION.]
[EMOTIONAL PARAMETER: CUSTODIAL RAGE ACTIVATED.]
It wasn't trembling. Instead, a terrifying, rhythmic sound began to emanate from Larry's ribcage—not a heartbeat, but the rapid, mechanical clicking of a high-speed industrial polisher.
The air around Larry warped. The toxic green miasma of the abyss was instantly sucked into his skeletal frame, filtered, and exhaled as a concentrated cloud of hospital-grade disinfectant. The ground beneath his rubber boots cracked, not from dark mana, but from the sheer physical pressure of a janitor who had reached his absolute limit with "unacceptable workplace conditions".
The [Abyssal Demon Lord of Sin] didn't understand. It had decimated legendary heroes and devoured celestial knights, yet this tiny skeleton wasn't screaming. He wasn't even trembling. He was standing still, with his jaw half open, with the satisfied but angry aura of an employee who had done a good job and someone ruined it.
Larry looked up. The crimson flames in his eye sockets were no longer small flickers; they were twin pillars of nuclear-grade cleaning fury.
Scrik-Scrik.
Larry scratched his skull and then his jaw clicked, probably angry.
[SYSTEM TRANSLATION (LARRY): "Your biological discharges are in direct violation of the Clean Air and Surface Act of 2026. This workplace is officially closed for emergency decontamination."]
The Demon Lord roared, swinging a massive, pus-filled fist. "DIE, YOU ARROGANT BONE-STACK!"
Before the Demon Lord could even process the threat, Larry's frame blurred.
He didn't just move; he performed a [Surgical Dash], leaving a trail of sparkling, sterilized stone behind him.
The twin silver spoons in his hands didn't glow with magic—they hummed with the frequency of a thousand ultrasonic cleaners.
Larry didn't dodge. He efficiently relocated. To the eyes of the Demon Lord, the skeleton simply vanished, leaving behind a faint scent of lemon-scented bleach.
Schwing.
Larry appeared on the Demon Lord's shoulder. He wasn't using a sword. He was using a high-pressure spectral power-washer he had manifested through pure willpower.
"GRAAAAAH!" the Demon Lord shrieked as the 50,000-PSI stream of holy detergent blasted through its "Aura of Filth." The rotting flesh wasn't just being damaged; it was being exfoliated. The dark, necrotic shadows were stripped away, revealing the pale, embarrassed skin of a much smaller, much cleaner demon underneath.
[NEW SKILL ACTIVATED: YOU MISSED A SPOT]
[EFFECT: TARGET'S DEFENSE REDUCED TO 0. ALL 'GRIME-BASED' BUFFS PERMANENTLY DELETED.]
Larry moved like a whirlwind.
Scrub-scrub-scrub.
He used his twin silver spoons to scrape the tartar off the Demon Lord's fangs. He used a giant, spectral pipe-cleaner to scrub the creature's clogged arteries.
"STOP! PLEASE!" the Demon Lord sobbed, its terrifying voice now sounding like a squeaky toy. "I PROMISE TO SHOWER! I'LL BUY DEODORANT!"
Larry didn't stop. He couldn't. The rage was too deep. He pulled out a bar of industrial-grade "Divine Lye" and shoved it into the Demon Lord's gaping maw.
[SYSTEM TRANSLATION (LARRY): "Rinsing is mandatory. Your soul is 94% bacteria. We must reach 99.9% germ elimination to meet company standards."]
With a final, explosive SNAP of his rubber gloves, Larry performed the ultimate finishing move. He grabbed the Demon Lord's "Core of Sin"—a black, oozing orb—and dunked it into a bucket of concentrated anti-bacterial solution.
Fisssssss.
The darkness evaporated. The rot vanished. The [Abyssal Demon Lord of Sin.] disappeared in a cloud of sparkling, white bubbles. When the foam cleared, all that remained was a small, translucent, and perfectly sterilized S-Rank Boss Core. It didn't even smell like evil anymore; it smelled like "Fresh Linen".
Larry's eye sockets faded back to a calm, satisfied violet. He picked up the Core, wiped it one last time with a microfiber cloth, and placed it inside a sterile Ziplock bag kindly given by Ugo in the void.
He looked around the throne room. It was glowing. It was pristine. It was... acceptable.
Clack.
Larry adjusted his utility belt , in order to begin the long walk back to the entrance, leaving behind a dungeon so clean that the next party of adventurers would probably mistake it for a high-end spa resort.
But after the darkness fully evaporated, a new object materialized in front of him. It was big, black and it was pulsating.
He scratched his skull, not knowing what it was. He was still a skeleton without a brain, after all.
'Larry, grab that heart and place it into the spectral ziplock bag that I gave you.' That voice was Ugo, his manager.
Scrik-Scrik.
Larry scratched his skull and then gave a [Thumbs Up]👍 to him, before grabbing the heart.
He was still wearing his oversized brown leather work gloves and his heavy-duty utility belt, humming a silent, happy tune in his skull. He was probably happy that the mission was going well. Mordecai was going to be happy, and that was enough for him.
In his left hand, he held the glowing, pulsating heart of the [Abyssal Demon Lord of Sin.] He carefully placed the S-Rank Boss Core into the spectral ziplock bag.
The boss core was anomalous. It was dense.
Moreover, the [Abyssal Demon Lord of Sin.] had said something about him holding the "souls of a thousand orphans" while disappearing like a germ meeting a hand sanitizer. Larry didn't care.
(To be specific, he didn't understand what he said.)
Mordecai had asked for anomalous dietary materials, and Larry was the best employee in Ravenloft Holdings. He wanted to make the Boss proud.
Larry tied the ziplock bag shut, attached it to his belt, and took another look around.
He had noticed that The boss chamber was incredibly dusty, again. There were webs everywhere.
He tilted his skull in confusion and scratched his skull, not understanding what had happened. He was sure that the room was clean one second ago. (SYSTEM?!)
Scrik-scrik.
Larry pulled a feather duster from his belt (kindly offered by the void) and began enthusiastically dusting the ancient, cursed throne of skulls.
Just as he was finishing the armrests, the heavy stone doors of the chamber were blasted open with an explosive boom.
A party of six high-level adventurers charged into the room, panting, bleeding, and radiating the intense aura of people who had just spent three days fighting for their lives.
"Prepare yourselves!" the leader, a stereotypical handsome swordsman with spiky hair and an oversized glowing blade, shouted. "The Demon Lord is in this chamber! We must... wait. What is that?"
The party froze. Instead of a towering monstrosity of shadow and flame, they saw a three-foot-tall skeleton. It was wearing a tool belt, work gloves and yellow boots and it was dusting the throne.
Larry paused. He turned his skull to look at the newcomers.
Clack?
He saw that they were covered in mud, monster blood, and grime. Larry felt a brief pang of sympathy. Being an adventurer looked like a very messy job, remembering his master's words.
Wanting to be polite and showing his pure intentions, Larry raised his right hand, wearing the oversized leather glove, and gave them a cheerful, encouraging gesture.
[Thumbs Up]👍.
The adventurers gasped in horror.
"By the Gods!" the party's cleric screamed, clutching her holy symbol. "It's mocking us! It's giving us the signal of our impending doom! The 'Upward Thumb of the Underworld'!"
Larry blinked his empty eye sockets. He tilted his head.
Scrik-scrik.
He scratched the top of his skull with his duster again, thoroughly confused.
"Do not be deceived by its pathetic appearance!" the swordsman roared, stepping forward and pointing his blade at Larry. "I can see that It has already harvested the Demon Lord's core! It must be the elite slave of a supreme necromancer! I, Rylan the Blade of Destiny, will eliminate you! [HEAVENLY CLEAVING STRIKE OF THE DAWN!]"
Rylan leaped into the air, his sword glowing with the blinding light of a small sun, and brought it crashing down directly onto Larry's skull.
Tink.
The sound was underwhelming. Like a plastic fork hitting a manhole cover. Larry's stats, bloated by Mordecai's corporate passive buffs, Cassandra's legal immunities, and the sheer amount of EXP gained from scrubbing Fort Blackstone's moat, had made his physical defense astronomically high. He was practically indestructible.
Larry didn't even flinch. He just looked up at Rylan's sword, which had bounced off his skull without leaving a scratch.
Larry gave him another [Thumbs Up]. 👍.
He then turned his back on the terrified hero, crouched down, and began picking up some rare, glowing Abyssal Mushrooms he had seen on the floor, just to add them to Mordecai's lunchbox.
"M-My Ultimate Attack..." Rylan stammered, his arms numb from the recoil. "It didn't even chip its bone! Impossible!"
"It's ignoring us!" the rogue panicked. "It's treating us like we don't even exist! Such terrifying arrogance!"
"Mage! Hit it with everything!" Rylan screamed.
The party's grand wizard began chanting furiously. "[ABSOLUTE ZERO BLIZZARD OF THE ETERNAL VOID!]" (Wasted time: 6,32 seconds of casting, in a realistic gameplay, she would've been dead already.) A massive tornado of freezing ice and snow engulfed Larry. The temperature dropped to minus two hundred degrees. When the ice cleared, Larry was frozen solid in a massive block of magical glaciers.
The party sighed in relief. "We did it..."
Crack.
Larry casually flexed his skeletal arms, shattering the S-Rank ice spell like it was cheap glass. He shook the frost off his utility belt and then noticed a smudge of dirt on a nearby stalagmite, pulled out from the void a spray bottle of spectral glass cleaner, and started wiping it down.
He glanced back at the shivering wizard and offered another friendly [Thumbs Up.] 👍. Larry only wanted to make his Master happy.
"DARK MAGIC!" the wizard shrieked, falling to her knees. "IT'S IMMUNE TO MAGIC! WE ARE GOING TO DIE!"
Larry let out a silent sigh.
Humans were so noisy. And they were tracking mud all over the floor he had just mentally prepared to mop.
He picked up his ziplock bag of boss cores and turned to leave. He had to visit the Flayed King's Labyrinth next.
"NO YOU DON'T!" Rylan yelled, driven mad by the sheer disrespect. The protagonist energy swelled within him. He triggered his Limit Break, starting to shout like a badly written shonen anime. His aura exploded, cracking the stone beneath his feet. "I WON'T LET YOU BRING THAT EVIL TO THE SURFACE! [TRUE EXCALIBUR: PIERCING LIGHT OF THE GODS!]"
Rylan lunged forward at blinding speed. He thrust his legendary sword directly at Larry's back. But Rylan tripped on a rock. The strike went wide. Instead of hitting Larry's spine, the legendary blade slid perfectly between two of Larry's ribs, getting wedged tightly in the empty space of his ribcage.
Clack.
Larry stopped walking. He looked down at the glowing holy sword sticking out of his chest. He didn't feel pain, obviously. He was just mildly annoyed that his personal space had been invaded.
Instead of a [Thumbs up], this time he gave a [Thumbs Down], silently saying "Not good".
Only then, disaster struck.
The impact of the sword had caused Larry's utility belt to shake. From a small leather pouch, a single, flawlessly polished silver spoon slipped out.
Time seemed to slow down. The spoon tumbled through the air, reflecting the ambient glow of the dungeon.
It fell. And it landed directly in a puddle of thick, gelatinous, foul-smelling Abyssal Slime.
Plop.
The mirror finish was ruined. The silver was stained with dark, acidic grime.
The dungeon went completely silent.
Larry stared at the spoon. He didn't move. He didn't clack his jaw.
"Ha!" Rylan cheered, desperately trying to pull his sword out of the skeleton's ribs, completely unaware of the apocalypse he had just triggered. "My holy blade is stuck in its core! It's paralyzed! Finish it!"
But Larry wasn't paralyzed. The small, warm violet flickers in his eye sockets suddenly extinguished. For a split second, there was total darkness. Then, two roaring torches of violent, crimson hellfire ignited in his skull again.
[SYSTEM ALERT: MINION 'LARRY' HAS DROPPED A CLEAN SPOON.]
[EMOTIONAL PARAMETER: CUSTODIAL RAGE ACTIVATED.]
[SKILL ACTIVATED: 'YOU MISSED A SPOT, LEVEL 10'.]
Larry didn't kill them. Mordecai hated unnecessary paperwork, and killing adventurers meant dealing with the Guild's insurance adjusters.
No.
Larry was going to do something much, much worse. He was going to sanitize them.
Larry reached down and effortlessly pulled the legendary sword out of his ribs with one hand. He looked at the blade. It was covered in goblin blood, rust, and the greasy fingerprints of an unhygienic hero.
Disgusting.
Larry pulled a spectral sponge and a bottle of industrial-grade bleach from his belt. He moved.
He didn't run; he simply ceased to be in one place and appeared in another. He was a blur of custodial fury.
"W-What is happening?!" Rylan screamed as the skeleton appeared directly in front of him.
Larry didn't attack. He started scrubbing.
Scrub-scrub-scrub-scrub!
In less than three seconds, Larry forcefully stripped away Rylan's "cool battle damage." He scrubbed the heroic grit from the swordsman's face. He polished the legendary armor so hard that the dark, edgy matte-black metal turned into a shiny, reflective, embarrassing bubblegum pink.
"MY ARMOR! MY DARK AURA! IT SMELLS LIKE LEMON PLEDGE!" Rylan sobbed, completely immobilized by the sheer speed of hygiene.
Larry moved to the Rogue. The edgy thief tried to hide in the shadows, but Larry's glowing red eyes pierced the darkness.
Scrub-scrub-scrub! Larry forcefully washed the Rogue's hair, parted it neatly to the side, and tied a little spectral bowtie around his neck. The edgy assassin now looked like a private school student on picture day.
The mage tried to cast a spell, but Larry shoved a bar of lavender soap into her mouth. "Language," Larry's red eyes seemed to say.
Within sixty seconds, the entire S-Rank dungeon boss room was spotless. The floors shined. The skulls on the walls were bleached white. And the six heroic adventurers were sitting on the floor, traumatized, their armor sparkling, smelling intensely of pine needles and aggressively fresh citrus. Larry had even placed bright yellow fantasy "CAUTION: WET FLOOR" signs around them.
Larry stood in the center of the room. The crimson fire in his eyes slowly faded back to a warm, friendly violet. He bent down, picked up his dirty spoon, wiped it clean with a microfiber cloth, and put it safely back into his pouch.
He adjusted his gloves, picked up the ziplock bag containing the Demon Lord's core, and prepared to leave.
Before he walked out the heavy stone doors, Larry turned back to the trembling, sparkling clean adventurers. He raised his hand.
👍.
The adventurers bursted into tears.
[TRANSMISSION: HIGHER REALMS CHAT - LIVE FEED]
LUKAS_THE_GREAT: "I CAN'T BREATHE. HE DIDN'T KILL THEM. HE GAVE THEM A MAKEOVER. THE ROGUE HAS A BOWTIE."
PLOT_ARMOR_DESTROYER: "This skeleton is the strongest entity in the universe. He just parried a legendary sword with his ribcage and defeated a party with Lemon Pledge."
NTR_Lover69: "Larry is the real Main Character. Give Larry a harem! Give Larry a maid outfit! 10/10!"
CLEAN_SOUL_88: "As a professional janitor, this chapter speaks to me on a spiritual level. You NEVER drop the polished spoon."
Meanwhile, miles away in the city of Oakhaven, Mordecai was sitting in his inn room, sipping tea. He suddenly sneezed.
"System," Mordecai muttered. "Check Larry's status."
[STATUS: LARRY IS CURRENTLY TRAUMATIZING HEROES WITH LAVENDER SOAP. HARVESTING EFFICIENCY: 400%.]
Mordecai smiled, taking another sip of his tea. "Good boy."