It started with a spot.

A single, greyish-green blemish on the otherwise pristine stone wall of the corridor connecting Floor 1 and Floor 2.

Maira stood in front of it. She was vibrating. Not the cold shiver of Seraphine or the happy bounce of Luma, but the high-frequency vibration of a kettle about to explode.

Reed walked by, holding a cup of coffee he'd managed to synthesize using 15 Mana points and a vague memory of Starbucks.

"Morning, Maira," he said. "Nice day for a—"

Maira held up a hand. The gesture was so sharp it cut the air.

"Do not speak, Master," she hissed. Her eyes were fixed on the wall. "Do not breathe. You might spread it."

Reed stopped. He looked at the wall.

"Spread what? The rock?"

Maira pointed a trembling, gloved finger at the spot.

"Bio-matter," she whispered, the word dripping with revulsion. "Fungal incursion. Class 4. It's… mildew."

Reed squinted. It was a spot of mold the size of a dime.

"It's just a little dampness," Reed said. "We opened a water floor. It's humid down there. Humidity rises. It's natural."

Maira turned to him. Her glasses flashed opaque white. The air temperature dropped ten degrees.

"'Natural' is a synonym for 'filthy,'" she stated. "Mold implies decay. Decay implies neglect. Neglect implies incompetence."

She pulled a lever on the wall—the general alarm Reed had installed for high-level invasions.

WWOOOOOP. WWOOOOOP.

Red lights flashed.

"Battle stations!" Maira screamed. "This is not a drill! We are under attack!"

The War Room (Core Chamber)

Five minutes later, the entire staff was assembled.

Grika had her harpoon gun. Seraphine had her spear and was fully armored. Riva was hanging from the ceiling, clutching a dagger she'd stolen. Luma was wobbling in her combat suit.

"Where are they?" Seraphine hissed, tail lashing ready to strike. "Paladins? Necromancers?"

"Worse," Maira announced, pacing in front of the Core. She was wearing a new outfit. It was a white, rubberized hazmat suit that had been tailored to fit her hourglass frame with disturbing precision. She held a heavy-duty spray tank on her back like a flamethrower.

"We face an enemy that knows no mercy," Maira declared. "It consumes. It spreads. It smells… musty."

She slapped a diagram onto the floating screen.

"Spores."

Grika lowered her gun. "You woke me up for mold?"

"Not just mold, Goblin Unit," Maira snapped. "It is the enemy of Order. And today, we declare Exterminatus."

She kicked a crate open. It was filled with brushes, buckets, sponges, and bottles of liquid that smelled like chemical warfare (bleach).

"I used the gold from the Bards to acquire these munitions," Maira said. "Master Reed, you authorized the purchase of 'cleaning supplies.' You did not specify how clean."

She tossed a scrub brush at Grika.

"Grika. You are Engineering. I need ventilation. Build fans. Big ones. If the air is stagnant, the enemy wins."

Grika caught the brush. "Fans? I can do fans. I can make a wind tunnel that'll peel the paint off the walls."

"Acceptable," Maira nodded. "Seraphine. Your tail allows you to reach high altitudes. You are assigned Ceiling Duty. Scrub the stalactites."

Seraphine looked at the bucket of soapy water. She looked at her claws.

"I am a Knight," she growled. "I do not scrub."

"You do if you want your heated rock to stay turned on," Maira countered coolly.

Seraphine grabbed the bucket. "I will scrub with… extreme prejudice."

"Riva," Maira continued. "You are the duster. Fly fast. Create turbulence. Do not shed feathers or I will pluck you."

"Wind-clean!" Riva chirped, grabbing a feather duster in each talon.

"Luma," Maira said, turning to the slime.

Luma perked up. "I can wash things! I'm wet!"

"You are the problem," Maira said. "You are a walking humidifier. Your task is to sit in the Dehumidification Chamber (the Sauna) and stay there until you are no longer dripping."

Luma pouted. "But I want to help!"

"Go dry out," Maira ordered.

Finally, she turned to Reed.

Reed tried to look busy with the Core interface. "I, uh, have administrative tasks to—"

Maira's tail shot out, wrapping around his ankle. She pulled.

Reed slid across the floor, stopping right in front of her white rubber boots.

"Master," Maira purred, looking down at him through the visor of her hazmat hood. "You are the vector. You walk between floors. You track mud. You breathe moisture."

She leaned down.

"You require… sterilization."

Frontlines: The Ventilation Shafts

Grika took the "War" part of Hygiene War literally.

She stood in the corridor connecting the floors. She had cobbled together a device from spare parts, a heat coil, and the fan motor from an old trap.

"Say hello to my little friend," she grinned.

She pulled the trigger.

FWOOOOSH.

It wasn't just air. It was superheated, cyclonic wind.

The Turbo-Dryer 9000 screamed to life. It hit the damp walls with enough force to instantly vaporize moisture. Steam hissed and vanished.

"Dry!" Grika yelled over the roar. "It's so dry my eyes are itching! Yes!"

Up on the ceiling, Riva was spinning.

The harpy had taken "turbulence" to heart. She was flying in tight loops near the roof, holding the dusters.

"Spin cycle!" Riva screeched.

She was effectively a living ceiling fan. Dust motes didn't stand a chance. Unfortunately, neither did loose rocks.

Bonk.

A pebble dislodged by her cleaning frenzy dropped and hit Seraphine on the head.

Seraphine was currently coiled around a pillar, looking miserable, holding a sponge the size of a shield.

"Bird," Seraphine hissed, wiping soap from her eye. "If you drop debris on me again, I will use you as a mop."

"You missed a spot!" Riva taunted, diving past her. "Shiny scale lady is slow!"

Seraphine roared and threw the sponge. It hit Riva mid-air with a wet thwack.

"Direct hit!" Grika cheered from below.

The Sterilization of the Avatar

Reed was currently naked.

Well, mostly. He was wearing a towel. Maira had declared his clothes "biological hazards" and incinerated them (or sent them to be boiled; he wasn't sure).

He stood in the middle of the Core Chamber, which had been turned into a decontamination zone.

Maira circled him. She held a hose attached to her backpack tank.

"Arms up," she commanded.

Reed lifted his arms. "Maira, is this strictly necessary? I showered this morning."

"Human showers are inefficient," Maira stated. "They miss the pores. They ignore the energetic residue."

She squeezed the trigger.

HISSSS.

A mist of warm, chemical-smelling foam covered Reed from head to toe. It tingled. It smelled like lemons and absolute authority.

"This is… tingly," Reed noted.

"It is an enzyme cleaner," Maira said, stepping closer. She put on a scrubbing mitt. "It dissolves organic impurities. Now, hold still."

She began to scrub.

This wasn't a gentle sponge bath. This was detailing a car.

Maira scrubbed his chest with firm, circular motions. She scrubbed his arms. She scrubbed his back.

"You are tense, Master," she murmured, her voice vibrating through the hazmat suit. "Tension traps toxins."

She moved behind him. She began to massage his shoulders, digging her thumbs in deep. It hurt, but in a good way.

"I'm tense because my maid is treating me like a dirty dish," Reed grunted.

"You are a dirty dish," Maira whispered in his ear. "And I am going to polish you until you shine."

She moved her hands down his chest. Her touch was possessive. She wasn't just cleaning him; she was claiming every inch of skin she touched.

"Turn," she ordered.

Reed turned.

Maira looked him over. He was covered in foam.

"Better," she decided. "Now for the rinse."

She adjusted the nozzle on her hose.

WHOOSH.

Water blasted the foam away. Reed sputtered.

Maira dropped the hose. She peeled off her rubber gloves with a snap.

She stepped closer, pushing Reed back until he hit the edge of the dais. She planted her hands on either side of him, trapping him.

She leaned in. She sniffed him.

Her nose brushed his neck. Her breath was hot against his skin.

"Sterile," she purred. "Clean. Mine."

She looked up at him, her amber eyes dark.

"But now I am dirty, Master. All this splashing…"

She took his hand and placed it on the zipper of her hazmat suit.

"Assist me with doffing procedures?"

Reed's heart rate spiked.

"I—uh—sure."

He pulled the zipper down.

The white suit peeled away to reveal… another pristine maid uniform underneath.

Reed blinked. "You were wearing a uniform under the suit?"

"Of course," Maira adjusted her glasses. "Layers, Master. Preparedness."

She smirked at his disappointment.

"Next time," she whispered, patting his cheek. "Now, put on some clothes. The inspection isn't over."

The Final Boss: The Safe Room

The dungeon was spotless.

Floor 1 smelled like lemons. Floor 2 smelled like pool chlorine.

Only one room remained.

The Safe Room. The Luma Lounge.

Maira stood outside the door. Reed stood next to her, dressed in a fresh tunic Maira had provided.

"The source," Maira whispered. "The epicenter of the damp."

She opened the door.

They looked inside.

The room was… humid. The slime cushions were glistening.

But sitting in the center, looking miserable, was Luma.

She was dry. Or as dry as a slime could get. Her surface was matte, not shiny. She looked slightly shrunken.

"I dried out," Luma whispered, her voice raspy. "I'm… crusty."

Reed's heart broke a little.

"Maira," Reed said warningly.

Maira sighed. She lowered her clipboard. She looked at the sad, dry slime.

"The mildew count in this room is zero," Maira noted. "However, the Slime Unit's structural integrity is compromised."

Maira reached into her pocket and pulled out a spray bottle labeled 'Rehydration Solution.'

She walked over to Luma.

"Hold still," Maira said gently.

She misted Luma.

Spitz. Spritz.

Luma gasped as the moisture hit her. She absorbed it instantly. Her glow returned. She expanded, becoming shiny and happy again.

"Water!" Luma cheered.

"Moderation," Maira corrected. "You may be moist, Luma. But you may not be… dripping."

Luma hugged Maira's leg, leaving a wet spot on the stocking.

Maira stared at the spot. Her eye twitched.

She didn't kick Luma away. She just sighed.

"I will treat the fabric later," she muttered.

Victory

That evening, the dungeon felt different.

The air was crisp. The stone sparkled. The vents Grika had built hummed quietly, keeping the airflow perfect.

Reed sat on his bed, exhausted but smelling fantastic.

Grika was asleep on the floor, using her wrench as a pillow. Seraphine was basking on her rock, her scales polished to a mirror sheen. Riva was preening her feathers, which were fluffier than ever.

Maira walked in. She was carrying a tray of tea.

"Hygiene War concluded," she announced, setting the tray down. "Casualties: zero. Enemy status: annihilated."

She handed Reed a cup.

"You did well, Master," she said softly. "You take direction… adequately."

Reed sipped the tea. It was perfect.

"Thanks, Maira. The place looks great."

Maira looked around the room. She smiled—a genuine, small smile.

"It is livable," she conceded. "For now."

She turned to leave, her heels clicking on the spotless floor.

"Oh, and Master?" she called back.

"Yeah?"

"I found a feather in the ventilation shaft. Tell the Harpy if she sheds again, I am making a pillow."

Reed laughed.

The dungeon was clean. The family was safe.

And somewhere, deep in a crack in the wall, a single spore of mold looked at Maira, shivered in terror, and decided to die rather than face her again.

[QUEST COMPLETE: HYGIENE WAR] Reward: +10 Dungeon Health.

Trait Gained: [Sparkling Clean] – Intruders are impressed by your sanitation.

Maira Status: Satisfied (Temporary).

Reed closed his eyes. He smelled lemons. It was a good smell.

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