The Stubborn Skill-Grinder In A Time Loop

Chapter 33: Clean. Die. Repeat. II

The next three loops were spent getting his Cleaning skill up high enough to do everything in a timely manner. Orodan could now clean his hovel in thirty minutes, and Mister Heatherswith’s house in another thirty. His Cleaning had gone from 54 to 56 across those three loops. His Maintenance had also gone from 23 to 27 from smoothing out the dirt roads.

Additionally, the warehouse was completed in an hour instead of two. Partially due to familiarity, and partially due to the three levels he gained in Construction.

This meant that Orodan was now left with two free hours in each loop. His fights against the Avatar of Eximus were rather short, and consequently he didn’t gain skill levels just yet. But, as the loops progressed he felt he’d gain something profound by struggling against the divine.

On the matter of the extra time gained from cleaning faster, Orodan decided to visit some of the places old man Hannegan had suggested. Such as the mansion of the man he was standing before right now.

“Ah, Orodan Wainwright! So you want to… clean my mansion?” the mayor asked. “I genuinely appreciate the offer, and I wasn’t aware that you had such a high-level Cleaning skill. Truly, who would’ve thought a member of the county militia would have the time to train such a thing. But, I must regretfully inform that I have specifically assigned staff for the job and would not wish to deprive them of employment.”

“You mistake me Mayor Aldus, I was just giving you a fair warning before I began,” Orodan replied. “I wasn’t asking for permission.”

“What do you-”

The man’s words were ignored as Orodan walked up to the door and pushed past him, entering his home. It was quite dirty within. Dusty leather couches, worn floorboards and paintings which looked filthy were among the things he saw.

Mayor Aldus Vilthar was officially paid a decent salary by House Firesword for assuming the mayoral position in Ogdenborough, but it wouldn’t be near enough to allow him such a mansion in this poor town. Orodan always suspected the man was on House Argon’s payroll and involved in their shady business at Eversong Plaza.

The fancy carpets were taken outside and given a proper beating, alchemical solution was used to get deep into the wooden floorboards and give them a thorough cleanse, and the walls were similarly given their due attention.

Over the course of the job, he encountered various documents in the man’s solar that were suspect. Letters between him and an individual titled as ‘A’ who was his superior. These letters detailed how the clandestine deliveries to and from the tavern were to be done, and also mentioned the frequent ‘redirection’ of Ogdenborough’s county militia to keep them away from Eversong Plaza, except on days when they wanted additional manpower.

The ‘A’ could’ve been either stood for Aeglos, the heir to House Argon, or Argon itself. It didn’t take a genius to deduce who the letters were addressed to.

Quite nefarious, even if Orodan had become a bit too strong to care about such trivial things. After all, it was a bit silly to be playing investigator, looking through clandestine letters in a mayor’s home when one fought Grandmasters and Avatars in battles that destroyed counties. Although, the usage of letters usually implied that secrecy was a priority; as communications amulets could be traced and the contents intruded on.

About two thirds of the way into finishing the mansion, he heard a crier outside the mansion.

“Orodan Wainwright! Come out! You’ve broken into the mayor’s home and are unlawfully within! Surrender and the law may consider leniency!”

The voice sounded quite familiar, even if Orodan hadn’t heard it in a while. It was Sergeant Woodgard!

Orodan had skipped his shift today, so naturally the man would be working now. A report of a break-in at the mayor’s house was of a higher priority than most others, so the Sergeant naturally responded himself.

He of course, ignored the crier and simply continued cleaning. What a filthy and disordered mansion this was. The solar was disorganized and messy enough, hinting at the fact that the mayor allowed nobody inside. But, the bedroom was even worse! Orodan wasn’t an idiot, he knew what the stains on the sheets and couches were.

Good for the mayor. Although Orodan practically drowned the sheets and couches in cleaning solution before rinsing and then drying them off with Draconic Fireball.

Once he finished with the rooms upstairs, Orodan went downstairs to see a gathering of militia waiting for him.

“Wainwright! You bloody idiot! You’re a no-show for your shift and now you decide to break into the mayor’s mansion?!” Sergeant Woodgard roared in his usual spittle-producing tone as his face grew increasingly red. Orodan let the man be hit with the Warrior’s Reciprocity backlash from the insult.

The Sergeant’s face somehow turned even redder, and the man looked faint, as though his blood pressure was far too high! An almost fourfold return on an insult must’ve made him really angry. Orodan would swear the man looked as though he would collapse at any moment.

“Apprehend him! Now!”

The nine militia men and women alongside the Sergeant approached Orodan…

…but he simply continued cleaning.

Arms attempted to grab onto his own but they were simply pulled along like ragdolls or pushed away like children as Orodan continued working. And it finally took Sergeant Woodgard’s club shattering upon Orodan’s head for the man to realize something wasn’t right. It was a good thing Orodan chose not to allow the reciprocity for that strike, as the multiplier would’ve likely killed the Sergeant.

What really cemented in their minds that they were better served backing off, was when Orodan began using his six selves once more to get the job done quicker.

“You’re dirtying the floor with your boots Sergeant, please move,” Orodan said as he picked the man up by the back of his collar, like a misbehaving cat, and deposited him outside. Sergeant Woodgard was now exceedingly wary of Orodan and didn’t protest whatsoever. The rest of the militia also wisely decided to back out of the mansion, although the Sergeant’s communication amulet did glow.

[Cleaning 56 → Cleaning 57]

The mayor’s mansion was quite decent for increasing his skill levels. Orodan would have to periodically return from time to time. It also gave him the inspiration to seek out other mansions and large structures for cleaning in his later loops once this set of death loops was concluded.

It took almost the full two hours Orodan had to clean the mansion. It was a different environment, and he wanted to ensure a thorough job was done.

[Cleaning 57 → Cleaning 58]

He stepped out the front doors of the mayor’s mansion to see a squad of the mounted unit waiting for him. The Captain of the riders, an Adept, held a wary look as he stared at Orodan. Sergeant Woodgard was whispering to the man. But, Orodan’s ears were quite profound now, thanks to his Physical Fitness.

“Sir, this man is Orodan Wainwright. He used to be an Apprentice-level militiaman in the Ogdenborough barracks. Now he’s powerful enough to send my entire troop running,” Sergeant Woodgard quietly whispered.

“I see, thank you,” the Captain replied. The man then trotted his horse forwards a bit before speaking. “Orodan Wainwright, I am Keharion Taj! Have you perhaps unlocked a Blessing? A Bloodline? What has caused your meteoric rise in power? Either way, you needn’t worry about facing discipline for this… ‘stint’. Come with us to Trumbetton so we may evaluate your talent, and all will be forgiven.”

Orodan was about to reply when his hairs stood on end as he felt something in the air. It was a familiar feeling… the accursed aura of the divine.

He looked to the horizon to see a blazing bolt of golden light approaching.

“Who among you has a Blessing from Ilyatana?” Orodan asked, and an unassuming rider was looked at by his peers, singling him out as the one.

It wasn’t the man’s fault, but of course somebody among the mounted unit held a minor Blessing of Ilyatana. Talking face to face in close proximity, the Goddess likely detected the faint traces of the unwanted Blessing upon his own soul. An Avatar was now descending to investigate further.

These unwanted Blessings he received in the last long loop were now rearing their ugly heads in the form of this inconvenience. Orodan was now learning that anyone with even a minor Blessing from any of the three enemy Gods, could cause them to detect him.

Well, he had no intention of standing his ground here in the middle of Ogdenborough.

A titanic leap cratered the ground and took him just outside of the town’s borders. And another leap which caused a tremor throughout Ogdenborough, took him to the peak of Mount Castarian.

The blazing golden light was coming from Karilsgard. Given its intensity, it was likely Heredin Aeronsul, the Chosen Avatar. Ilyatana wasn’t holding back in her investigation.

A familiar dragon and rider came out of a large portal and approached him before the Avatar of Ilyatana did however.

“No time to talk, get out of the way unless you want to face the wrath of an Avatar,” Orodan told Arendethar and Ulrusdun. As he spoke, Orodan extended the sense of Mana Black Hole as far as he could, and he felt the machine’s mana pool, deep beneath the mountain, concentrated within the orb.

He then pulled and felt it all enter the skill’s reserve.

[Quest Completed → Battle of Ogdenborough - Ancient war machine disabled]

[Reward Granted → Permanent +1 Action Increase]

[Soul At Capacity → Reward Aborted]

He would’ve liked to stay to receive the javelin, but as it stood, Orodan had perhaps five seconds before the Avatar of Ilyatana reached him. He thus leapt off the peak of Mount Castarian, towards the Novarrian wilderness on the southern side of the mountain.

Mid-air, a familiar lightning javelin came for him, but it missed by a decent distance as Orodan was going too fast.

He hit the ground and took off running. Within seconds he reached his preferred spot, and decided to stand his ground away from civilization.

It wasn’t the Novarrians that reached him this time, but the Avatar of Ilyatana.

Bindings of golden light attempted to restrain him, just as they did in his very first encounter with the Goddess of Fate. But this time, Orodan cycled Eternal Soul Reactor frighteningly fast and shattered the bindings easily. Chosen Avatar or not, restraining Orodan Wainwright was no longer something the Gods could do. They would have to kill him.

“You dare resist? You bear such an intriguing Blessing of mine, yet I do not recall bestowing it,” Ilyatana spoke. “But that is fine, I shall descend unto you regardless, now that we are in such close proximity.”

Heredin Aeronsul’s eyes lost their glow for a moment, and a horrifying wail of divine agony erupted after which the glow returned.

Orodan had to admit, he quite enjoyed hearing this meddling Goddess scream in particular. She was his first divine enemy.

“Impossible! To hurt me through an Avatar, to cross the dimensional boundary and reach me in the divine realm… you cannot be allowed to live! Whichever dark God sent you will find your soul scoured to the core!”

Gods specialized in different things.

Agathor was the God of War. Eximus was the God of Time. And Ilyatana was the Goddess of Fate.

But even outside their purviews, they were capable of various things such as soul attacks and regular destruction, but to differing levels of proficiency. Orodan thus learned two things.

First, that Ilyatana was superior to Eximus when it came to assaulting his soul.

His consciousness nearly departed, he began forgetting what he was doing and his emotions were all over the place. This was some serious soul damage, and it took all Orodan had in order to retain who he was and prevent the entire outer layer of his soul from being obliterated.

[Soul Defense 51 → Soul Defense 53]

Second, Eximus was far superior to Ilyatana when it came to damaging his body.

“Why won’t you die?! How can a mortal be so resilient?!”

The Avatar assaulted him with beams of light that almost completely turned him to ash. But almost, wasn’t enough.

Orodan kept reforming, and he recalled the tidbit that Ilyatana had Chosen in all three major human nations but consequently her Chosen were individually weaker. A weaker Chosen meant a weaker Avatar, thus Orodan was barely able to survive the strongest attacks of her Avatar. Although he lacked the ability to fight back at all aside from Warrior’s Reciprocity which made her howls of pain echo for miles.

[Warrior’s Reciprocity 63 → Warrior’s Reciprocity 64]

[Harmony of Vitality 79 → Harmony of Vitality 80]

Her screams of frustration and pain continued for a while, even as her host continued to fall apart.

Finally, the fun and games ended as a portal opened fifty feet from Orodan, and the familiar face of Cruxamar Aetholion stepped out. Albeit, his eyes were already glowing with the power of Eximus.

“Ilyatana, why do you cause such a ruckus in my lands?” Eximus asked as he stepped forth. “Oh? This boy has such a Blessing of mine? Let me see if I can descend…”

“Eximus wait! He has a foul skill which-”

It was too late, and yet another divine roar of pain occurred as the possession failed and was rebuffed almost fourfold.

“Vile abomination! Come Ilyatana, we shall put this one to rest permanently!”

If Eximus hadn’t come in, Orodan might’ve even been able to outlast Ilyatana outright by causing her host to burn out. It was heartening to know that he could possibly outlast and ‘defeat’ the Avatar of the Goddess of Fate through his survivability. Her Avatar was weaker than the other Gods’.

But to face two Chosen Avatars at once? This loop was over.

Two beams struck him. One, a divine beam of pure chronomantic might which obliterated every particle of his body. The other, a godly beam of light which was incredibly harmful to his soul. Together, they ensured the darkness of death took him.

But, just before that, Orodan felt that there was some critical insight within this situation. He was struck by not one, but two separate divine attacks simultaneously. And in that moment, just before death came, he felt that there was an incredible discovery to be made if he kept repeating this moment.

A keening wail ringing in the night sky awoke him.

He flitted in and out of consciousness. He forgot who he was for brief moments. And he felt every kind of emotion under the sun.

Who was he?

It took forty minutes of focused introspection and willpower to repair all the damage he suffered. The entire outer layer of his soul had been mostly destroyed.

[Soul Manipulation 84 → Soul Manipulation 86]

[Soul Strengthening 32 → Soul Strengthening 35]

On the other hand. The gains had been incredible. Two entire levels in Soul Manipulation from 84 to 86? At such a high level, gaining two was a profound breakthrough! He also managed to build his soul back up stronger than before as it was damaged so thoroughly. If anything, the damage was an opportunity to become stronger.

What if…

…he allowed the outer layer of his soul to be completely destroyed?

A dangerous idea, but good training though.

The thought stewed in Orodan’s mind as he hit up Fodgarton’s and got to work.

The latrines weren’t Orodan’s main target, the cesspools were.

Bigger cities of course, had well-engineered and artificed pipes to handle the issue. Towns however, used water mages. But, Ogdenborough was one of three towns in Volarbury County that didn’t have water mages on hand to maintain the sewage system. The other two at least had running water to flush the night soil away, but his town didn’t have even that.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The system of sanitation was mildly interesting, even if Orodan didn’t need to bother with such things anymore thanks to Eternal Soul Reactor burning it away. That he could count on one hand how many times he ate and drank over the years was also a factor.

His personal matters aside, the Ogdenborough Department of Public Sanitation wasn't pleasant. It was located on the outskirts of town and the stench could be smelt from quite a distance away. Orodan’s neighborhood of Briar Court wasn’t nearly as bad as the homes that were within range of the odor.

Thus, the workers toiling to clean them and load night soil were paid a decent salary.

“We pay three gold coins a year, with a generous overtime rate of fifty silvers for each day off you work,” the man explained. “We have a high turnover rate, thus we’re also offering a sign-on bonus of two gold paid out over six months.”

The diminutive man was the manager for the cesspits, and unlike what Orodan would expect, wasn’t poverty-stricken or miserable looking. Rather, the manager was well-dressed, spoke eloquently and looked quite happy. Although he did have a breathing device on to help filter the odors.

Orodan found the rate quite surprising! He made a single gold coin a year as a member of the county militia, and even Sergeant Woodgard, the highest paid member of the barracks made a gold coin-and-a-half yearly. He supposed it made sense given how undesirable the job was, but where did the money to pay sanitation workers come from?

“How are you paying your workers that much? The county militia pays a gold a year at most to talented members,” Orodan spoke. “Where does all that gold come from?”

“Partly through grants from the Cathedral, and mainly because it’s the Republic itself that funds sewage management throughout its territories. Our yearly rate and overtime are the same all throughout the Republic and its territories, owing to our union,” the man explained. “With how well you’re handling the odors without a breathing mask, I’d say you could do well in this line of work.”

The odors were bad, but Orodan’s willpower had seen him through worse things. The Eldritch smelled rather grotesque too, and he’d managed to tolerate that for a full year.

“Sounds like a good deal for your workers,” Orodan replied. “But, I’m not here for the money. I just want to clean the latrines, and particularly the cesspools.”

“Excuse me?” the man asked. “Are you perhaps one of those eccentric people like the famous Arendethar Althadin who wanders around honing the Cleaning skill?”

Orodan nodded, and the man had a manic smile on his face.

“Excellent! Come, let me show you to our supply room which has all manner of equipment,” the man offered. “I’m Olosco Fendinhall, manager of the Ogdenborough sewage network. We sometimes get strange individuals like yourself who come by asking to clean, so by all means let me help facilitate that.”

People went around honing their Cleaning skill in such a way?

Well, Orodan shouldn’t have been surprised. If people went on dangerous journeys to hone their combat skills or find inspiration for their crafts, then it wasn’t exactly impossible for someone to do the same for Cleaning.

Orodan was led to a modestly sized store room which looked out of place in the poor town of Ogdenborough. Within… was a treasure trove.

All manner of fine brooms, well-crafted mops with tailor-made heads, bars of alchemical soap, jugs of alchemical cleaning solution and everything Orodan could ever want for the purposes of Cleaning. His eyes lit up like a hungry child at the butcher’s.

“This…! This is exactly what I need!” Orodan exclaimed in a show of rare excitement. “How does Ogdenborough even have such equipment?!”

“That’s because it doesn’t belong to Ogdenborough my boy,” Olosco explained. “All this good stuff, is under the purview of the Republic’s Department of Public Sanitation. Some of the cleaning equipment is even enchanted.”

“Truly? I always thought the absence of water mages in Ogdenborough meant that the town’s sewage maintenance was similarly dreadful,” Orodan remarked. “Do people not make off with the items you have in storage?”

“Well firstly, the job is still every bit as shitty as you’d think,” Olosco spoke with a pleased grin at the pun he made. “You’re still manually shoveling night soil. No matter what enchanted breathing masks I give you, it’s still grueling labor. Second, there are scrying eyes watching the store room. And most importantly, I don’t say this to people but, I… am an Adept swordsman.”

Olosco held Orodan’s gaze for a while, hoping to see the look of awe. When it didn’t come, the seconds dragged on and the man could only awkwardly cough.

“Oh… right! Yes, yes, very impressive,” Orodan tried to amend, but the damage was done. Olosco couldn’t dare meet Orodan’s gaze after that. Yes, in his first life Orodan might’ve been impressed, but it’d still raise the question of why an Adept was guarding a literal shit hole.

“Erm… anyhow, the equipment is here if you wish to work on cleaning our latrines and cesspools,” Olosco said and then made himself scarce in embarrassment. Which was just fine with Orodan.

He gathered the relevant supplies into a large sack and surveyed the situation.

The network of latrine trenches from the various districts of Ogdenborough ran towards communal cesspools in each area. This was also where homes would empty their chamber pots. Due to being under the Department of Public Sanitation, Ogdenborough wasn’t barbaric and at least had basic enchantments on the communal cesspools to prevent the smell from wafting out in residential neighborhoods. But, they did still need to be emptied and cleaned weekly by hand since there were no water mages on staff in Ogdenborough’s local branch.

This consisted of using ladles and shovels to dig the excrement out and loading it into buckets, which were then unloaded into large containers pulled via horse drawn carriage to the center Orodan was at currently. The containers would then be unloaded into the central dumping pit, which was enchanted to slowly burn the excrement away over time.

Despite the fact that Ogdenborough had no water mages and running water for its sewage, the system implemented by the Department of Public Sanitation worked quite well. The Republic had a certain standard of sewage quality that it enforced across all its territories. Preventing disease outbreak was one benefit, but winning public approval in the poorer areas and justifying taxation was another. Taxes were good for something it seemed, even in Ogdenborough.

Orodan thus had a few targets. To clean the latrine networks, to empty and clean the communal cesspools, and to then unload the collection into the dumping pit. Of course, he wasn’t delusional enough to think he could clean all of Ogdenborough’s latrine network and cesspools in the two hours he had. But eventually? It was a good target to aim for.

His target for this loop however, was to start cleaning the latrines and cesspools of the nearest areas and expand his way outwards from there.

He would alternate what to clean in each loop. One loop, the mayor’s mansion. Another loop, the latrines and cesspools of Ogdenborough, and another, the forges and tanneries which he had yet to hit.

With that decided, he diligently got to work.

Horse drawn carts and buckets weren’t exactly necessary when he could just carry the massive containers himself. He created six of himself to carry six of the massive excrement containers. The gap in speed between himself and gravity was massive. So, every time an action increase self disappeared after a second, Orodan simply re-created another one before the container hit the ground. Like this, it would look to the average eye that there were six of Orodan carrying six containers.

Upon arrival, the containers were dumped near the communal cesspool of the area.

Department of Public Sanitation workers were meant to work during the night. Of course, Orodan didn’t care as he wasn’t officially employed by them. His act of dumping the containers in broad daylight and pulling out cleaning tools caused murmurs to erupt and a sense of outrage and anger among the passersby and residents of the street.

“Hey! Since when do you dirty cretins do this unsightly work during the day?! Get off of our street!” exclaimed an angry man who was hawking goods to people walking by The man's business would be impacted. He marched towards Orodan and put a hand on his shoulder.

Only to be summarily ignored as Orodan continued working. Which, when one had a Physical Fitness of 85, meant that the unfortunate hawker was dragged along and thrown into the latrine Orodan was cleaning.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Orodan said. “You’ve gotten the latrine dirty. Move before I make you move.”

The man was flabbergasted and didn’t need to be told twice. He’d felt Orodan’s strength in that moment and wanted no more trouble. He simply stood there and looked miserable, too afraid to cause a ruckus.

Orodan felt some pity for him, and in-between cleaning the latrine, decided to dunk a substantial amount of his own concocted alchemical cleaning solution onto the man’s head. He then threw him a few towels and soap bars.

“Clean yourself up, use the towels and soap and pass me your clothes so I can clean them while you dry off,” Orodan spoke.

The man was too scared to disobey. Something about Orodan’s focus and calm attitude throughout the whole situation must have unnerved him. While the man got to a corner and cleaned himself up, Orodan dedicated an action increase self to cleaning his clothes, all while the rest focused on getting the latrines cleaned.

A ‘clone’ of his jumped down the well and leapt back up with a filled giant water barrel. Buckets of water were drawn from this barrel and thrown down the latrines, washing the undesirable matter down towards the cesspool. Orodan threw the water with such force that a single bucket's worth would flow down the full length of the trench and reach the cesspool. All the while, other ‘clones’ scrubbed the latrines and gave them a deep cleaning with his alchemical solution.

He finished cleaning and drying the unfortunate hawker’s clothes with a Draconic Fireball and handed them back to the man. He was understandably awed by how quickly everything was done, but Orodan cared not about that.

[Cleaning 58 → Cleaning 59]

The System message however, he did care about.

The latrine trenches were filthy beyond measure, which was a good environment to level Cleaning in. The stone was soaked to the pore with unwanted excreta, and Orodan’s personal alchemical solution was put to work in cleaning the trenches, all while he furiously scrubbed and mopped the stone.

The mops were enchanted in that wielding them was dramatically easier. The weight was light to the wielder, but the head of the mop was heavier and also absorbed filth into itself. Dunking it into water also gave the cleaner the option of putting their thumb over a rune on the handle to absorb liquid into the mop head, which could then be discharged elsewhere by holding their thumb over another rune. It was elaborate craftsmanship and enchanting.

Within an hour, every latrine trench in the area was cleaned till the rocks were almost sparkling.

The first person to sully it would be ashamed to relieve themselves upon it!

Finally, came the cesspool itself. For which Orodan cast a continuous Whirlpool Whirlwind above its open mouth with one hand, while his other hand hovered a charged Draconic Fireball in its way.

Filth flew upwards, only to meet the all-incinerating heat of the uncast Draconic Fireball. The fumes were atrocious, but none of the excreta escaped the heat of a spell that could hurt Grandmasters. Orodan was slightly worried that he’d start an accidental fire in the nearby houses, so he held the temperature back somewhat. But even then, all the excrement was burned to ash.

[Cleaning 59 → Cleaning 60]

It was a novel method of emptying a cesspool, but it earned him a level in Cleaning. He continued his work and thoroughly scrubbed the inside of the cesspool, dumping the entire remainder of his alchemical cleaning solution within to try and get it as clean as possible. Of course, excrement was virtually bonded to the stone of the cesspool, so it’d be a few loops before Orodan could figure out how to perfectly clean it.

He had another hour left, but no more alchemical cleaning solution. And he didn’t want to do a half-baked job, so he instead opted to simply clean the nearby dirt roads and houses using the remainder of the time.

[Maintenance 27 → Maintenance 28]

Near the end of his free time till the machine’s awakening, he saw a troop of county militia approach. It was Corporal Botterson’s troop.

“Wainwright? I heard someone say it was you, but to miss your shift to clean the gutters and shit pools here? Really?” the man asked with some incredulity in his voice, as though he wasn’t quite believing what he was seeing. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing’s gotten into me Corporal,” Orodan replied. “I’m still the same battle-loving Orodan Wainwright you know, just… training in different ways.”

The man remained silent for a few moments, until he saw Orodan resume the action increase aided cleaning.

“What in the world?! You know magic now, Wainwright?” the man exclaimed. “I always knew you were a real talent, but to be a mage as well…”

“I’m not a mage!” Orodan indignantly protested. “And this isn’t magic, it’s a Quest Reward.”

“A Quest Reward? You don’t have to pull my leg, I know you hate mages but you can just admit it’s magic,” Botterson replied.

Orodan sighed. Of course Botterson would dismiss it as outlandish. The Corporal was a bumpkin just like everyone in the Ogdenborough branch of the militia and the original Orodan.

"H-he threw me into the latrine!" the poor hawker now voiced up.

"What are you on about? Your clothes look entirely clean to me," Botterson replied.

Orodan ignored the antics and didn’t waste time with any further explanation, for the machine’s awakening and his new training method approached.

Finding the mounted unit from Trumbetton wasn’t an issue. Aside from the high priority call he forced them to attend in the last loop, they’d otherwise stuck to their routine of patrolling Ogdenborough’s main road leading to Eversong Plaza for this busy day.

So when Orodan walked up to the rider who held a minor Blessing of Ilyatana and waved before promptly leaping away for the mountain, the rider was understandably shocked. Even more so when a blazing bolt of golden light sailed through the skies overhead thirty seconds later.

Orodan himself didn’t have much time to speak to Ulrusdun and Arendethar when they appeared in response to him landing upon the peak of Mount Castarian. Instead, he simply activated Mana Black Hole and drained the entirety of the mana pool he was getting quite familiar with.

[Quest Completed → Battle of Ogdenborough - Ancient war machine disabled]

[Reward Granted → Permanent +1 Action Increase]

[Soul At Capacity → Reward Aborted]

He leapt off the mountain immediately after, and as usual, upon reaching a safe distance from civilization, it was the Chosen Avatar of Ilyatana that reached him first.

“Fascinating, such a-”

Orodan gave her no time to talk. He simply launched an all-out assault upon her. Something which rightfully enraged her.

“Heresy! You would dare assault the divine?!”

His response was to keep fighting, which soon became impossible as he was continually reduced to puddles via beams of golden light which seriously battered his soul. Although hearing Ilyatana’s scream of pain in return was worth it.

[Soul Defense 53 → Soul Defense 54]

Immediately after the message, a portal opened nearby and the Avatar of Eximus stepped in.

“What ruckus is this Ilyatana? Explain yourself,” Eximus spoke and then looked closer. “Oh? How profound! For this mortal to have such a Blessing… hold for a moment Ilyatana, I believe I can descend unto him.”

“Do not! This unholy wretch has a skill which can directly harm me!”

As usual, Eximus’s greed trumped his caution, and the God of Time attempted to possess Orodan. Only to be rebuffed with an almost fourfold backlash a moment later.

A divine roar of agony rang out.

“Enough! Such foul power cannot be allowed to stand! Let us dispose of this vermin Ilyatana!”

And this time, when the two beams of divine power came towards him…

…Orodan purposefully had his soul defenses down as low as possible.

A keening wail ringing in the night sky awoke them.

[Quest Bestowed → Battle of Ogdenborough - Defeat the Novarrians and their allies as they attempt to activate and commandeer the ancient war machine beneath Mount Castarian]

[Quest Bestowed → The Chosen Eldritch Star - On the eve of the current year the Chosen One of the Eldritch Gods will descend unto the world as a fell comet, defeat this being who is an Avatar of all of the Eldritch Gods and protect the world along the way]

The person got to their feet and reached for their weapons, ready to fight. But no enemies were around, so the weapons were sheathed. The building they were in was… dirty. They felt a profound desire to clean it.

But before that… who were they?

They had no clue what all these strange messages meant, so they were put to the side.

A quick external survey and internal affirmation from an unknown place confirmed that he was a man.

But that still didn’t answer who he was. He could remember nothing, his name, his background, what he was supposed to be doing.

But one thing that did stick out to him… was that this hovel, was dirty. Was it his home?

The nameless man picked up a rag and got to work in thoroughly cleaning the hovel best he could. Yet, he felt unsatisfied as though a part of himself deep within was telling him it was inadequate.

The man thus walked two blocks over someplace that would have good cleaning supplies, and he also visited a humble herbalist's shop where he concocted his own cleaning solution. How he knew all this, the man did not know. A sack of silver was deposited as recompense at these places and he returned to his hovel and worked upon it with vigor.

His body was strong. He felt as though he could shatter an entire county and kill everyone if he wanted. But, that felt disgusting, not befitting a true warrior. To harm the weak was not his way.

He was a warrior.

He didn’t know where that thought had come from, but he felt quite certain about his identity.

The warrior thus returned to his hovel and got to work. The entire thing was cleaned in under thirty minutes, as though he was quite familiar with it, but he still felt dissatisfied as though there was more to do.

Thus, he made for a neighboring house with a disgusting stench of leather, tannins and rotting flesh.

“Orodan, what are you doing here?”

Orodan? Was that supposed to be his name? Nothing consciously came to mind, but something far away told him that was correct.

He wasn’t sure what this far away source was, but attempting to connect with it seemed like a good idea. So he followed its gentle urgings and got to work on this man’s filthy house. Everything was cleaned thoroughly, and a skill which whirled his fingers in a manner to create a vacuum to draw dirt towards it, was used to draw filth towards a luminous fireball in his hands.

He wisely decided to let the fireball die out. He got a feeling his neighbors wouldn’t fare very well if he threw it.

His neighbor looked distraught while his wife and daughter looked grateful beyond measure once the warrior finished.

But, this still wasn’t enough! The voice urged him to seek out the town forge, and so he did.

The man hammering away at metal didn’t so much as get a chance to complain before Orodan barged in and began furiously cleaning the place.

It was a unique environment, one that the strangely distant source hadn’t encountered before. Thus, it was up to the warrior to figure out how to tackle things such as ash, molten slag sticking to the crucibles, and all manner of detritus unique to the craft of blacksmithing.

His alchemical solution wasn’t up to the task of cleaning metal detritus and molten slag, thus he had to utilize his strength to rip metallic dirt off with his fingers before he could apply the solution. An hour passed, and the warrior ruminated on how best to clean the blacksmith’s hammer.

The distant voice informed him that the hammer was an incredibly important part of the blacksmithing process. Its cleanliness and integrity could influence the outcome of a craft. And this hammer, was dirty to the core.

To verify this, he heated a strip of metal with his dragon-like fire and then hit it with the hammer. Upon closer examination, he could see, and almost feel the impurities in the hammer affecting the metal he was pounding.

He thus alternated between cleaning the hammer with solution and his weird hand whirls, while also testing it out with hammer strikes to ensure its cleanliness, its integrity.

As the hammer strikes fell, he saw a message pop up.

[Cleaning 60 → Cleaning 61]

The skill level increased from such fine application of Cleaning no doubt.

However, he felt something more. Something beyond just the Cleaning skill. As he cleaned, he maintained a continual sense of the filth within the hammer.

The voice was demanding he follow the path, claiming it would hasten his reconnection with it. But, he refused to settle.

A mere Cleaning Sense was not the height of what he could achieve.

The voice heard him and was satisfied with his desire. It too, was a perfectionist. It too… was stubborn.

At the end of the day, what was cleaning? Was cleanliness not just the act of purifying the unclean? But by whose metric were things deemed unclean? Pure by which standard?

The answer was simple. His own.

Cleaning was a skill. Skills were a being’s method of exerting their own will upon the world. The distant voice also agreed and said that there was cleaning and then there was Cleaning. The act of cleaning was different from the skill Cleaning. To simply clean was one thing, but to actively utilize Cleaning meant channeling the skill to impose one’s own will upon existence.

When a swordsman simply swung his sword, it was a sword swing, obeying reality. But when they used a high-level Sword Mastery skill to parry ten blows simultaneously and return death unto all? It was more than just a sword attack, it was forcing reality to bend to its will.

Similarly, using Cleaning to purify an object down to the cellular level was more than just the act of cleaning. It was forcing reality to adhere to his vision and will.

Dust and dirt were a part of nature. Nature, was naturally dirty by the metric of many. Cleaning was not nature. It also wasn’t destruction, as cleansing something properly meant maintaining the parts you wanted while clearing out what you didn’t want.

Thus, Cleaning, meant striving for purity.

His constant perception of the filth within the hammer then, was a sense… a vision.

His Cleaning skill, would then be the tool he used to achieve this Vision of Purity.

[New Skill (Legendary) → Vision of Purity 1]

[Cleaning 61 → Cleaning 62]

The voice drew closer, as though a core part of himself was in resonance between him and it.

And Orodan Wainwright remembered who he was once more.

[Soul Manipulation 86 → Soul Manipulation 89]

[Soul Strengthening 35 → Soul Strengthening 38]

That was one heady experience! And his soul was still quite damaged, but his memories had come back.

He sat in place and finished repairing his soul as Mister Harworth simply stared at him in horror. Orodan’s amnesiac self had basically ignored the old blacksmith and turned his forge upside down in cleaning it.

His new skill, Vision of Purity, even at level 1, allowed him to detect all the unwanted filth and impurities in everything around him for half a mile. He didn’t need to be looking at it, he could simply detect it through the skill’s all-encompassing ‘vision’. The information would seriously strain the mind of anyone else, but Orodan’s was quite resilient and trained by now.

Just like that, he had gained a legendary rarity skill. He could already see it functioning as a detection skill of sorts if he got its level high enough. Perhaps he could even sense sneaky beings like Vespidia with it once he got its level high enough and was able to distinguish what the skill was telling him.

Perhaps he could finally detect what exactly needed to be cleaned in his mentor Arvayne Firesword’s soul and maybe…

…even his own.

This out-of-body amnesiac training was incredibly valuable. Not only did it lead to critical insights he mightn’t have achieved otherwise, but it also brought him more in-tune with who he was at core.

It was incredibly dangerous, to essentially allow the outer layer of his soul to be completely destroyed. But the gamble had paid off.

If reincarnators whose outer soul layer was destroyed could recover their memories. Then Orodan correctly surmised that his endless willpower could do the same in a dramatically shorter period of time.

It was madness to allow his soul to be destroyed over and over.

But it was good training. And he was far from done.