The question of cleaners existing during times of apparent peace often appeared in instruction manuals. Yet the answer was written in the very history of humanity, a lesson every new recruit had to engrave in their mind from the first day of training.
Monsters had not chosen Earth by chance; they invaded because their own home dimension had reached a point of critical saturation. This dimensional overload forced reality to tear, creating passages toward places emitting signs of life, and that was how Earth became their target.
This historical truth served as a permanent warning for the inhabitants of Stoyde. If the creatures occupying the land were to proliferate without control or if their global power exceeded a certain threshold, the precarious balance would shatter. The initial catastrophe would then inevitably repeat, once again projecting chaos onto the inhabited lands. It was an invisible but constant threat, a pressure that left no room for complacency.
It was for this unique and compelling reason that cleaners maintained an active presence. Their mission consisted of regulating the monster population by leading regular extermination campaigns on Earth. They were the guardians of this fragile balance, the only ramparts capable of containing the threat within its current limits. Behind every mission lay a distant and burning hope of one day seeing Earth totally purged of this evil influence, finally allowing humans to reclaim their original home.
Ken had never been driven by a heroic desire to save humanity or become a figure of legend. For him, becoming a cleaner was only a means to reach a much darker and more personal end: massacring monsters. It was a visceral need that dictated every one of his choices. Yet as he stood there, that dream of vengeance he had nourished for years seemed to collapse brutally, reduced to ashes by a simple letter.
F rank potential. Those words looped in his mind like a cruel and final verdict. He, Ken, found himself at the bottom of the ladder, where hope no longer existed. How was such a result possible after so much effort and anticipation? The shock was so violent that he felt physical pain in the hollow of his chest.
In this society, potential was the absolute measure of an individual's value. For a cleaner, this rank determined everything that would make up their future: the quantity of special abilities they could one day hope to master, the speed at which they would progress through the ranks, and the financial privileges they would access. It was the foundation upon which an entire career rested, the impassable limit imposed by destiny. And Ken had just received the worst sentence imaginable.
"Hey, Ken!" Luc's voice tore through the silence of his thoughts, but Ken kept walking.
Luc eventually caught up and stopped dead a few feet from him. He placed his hands on his knees, chest bent forward, short of breath after his frantic run to reach his friend. For a few seconds, the only audible sound was his heavy and ragged breathing. When he finally stood up, his face had frozen into a complex expression, a mix of feigned pity and visible unease.
"I am sorry… I never would have thought…" he said, lowering his eyes toward the paved ground, carefully avoiding Ken's gaze. The words seemed to weigh a ton in his mouth, but the sincerity was not there.
Ken stopped and turned slowly toward the man he considered his brother. He observed him for a long moment, noting every detail of his evasive posture, before letting a slight smile appear, devoid of all joy.
"You can laugh, Luc. You do not need to pretend anymore," he said in a calm, almost detached voice. There was a coldness in his tone that seemed to surprise his companion. Ken saw clearly through the game unfolding before him. The mask of friendship was cracking, revealing the truth he had long preferred to ignore to avoid suffering.
Then he added, driving the point home to end the charade: "You do not need to stay with me anymore. Am I wrong?" Luc remained silent, mouth slightly open, as if searching for a diplomatic answer that would never come. Silence stretched between them for several seconds, heavy and suffocating, while passersby continued to stream around them.
"Why do you say that?" he finally asked, but his voice lacked confidence. It was the question of someone who feels exposed but tries a final defense out of habit.
Ken was not fooled. He had understood the true nature of Luc for a long time. This revelation had been a deep wound in the past, as their bond went back to childhood, to the time when they were only seven. Ken had deliberately chosen to keep this bitterness to himself, hoping against all odds that future success would erase the flaws of Luc. He had told himself that if he became a powerful cleaner, his friend's vision of the world would change, that their bond would strengthen through respect. But the F rank had just shattered that illusion. Reality was now impossible to hide.
"You do not need to stay stuck to me anymore hoping I become someone important," Ken continued in a monotone. "You are the one who is important now. Great opportunities are going to open up for you." There was no jealousy in his words, only the cold observation of a situation that had just flipped.
Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and began to walk away, leaving Luc behind.
Suddenly, a sharp noise tore through the air. Luc had just burst out laughing. It was a nervous laugh, almost uncontrollable, shaking his shoulders and distorting his features. It was no longer the laugh of a friend, but that of a man finally freeing himself from a useless weight. The contempt radiating from it was palpable.
"I was hoping you would unlock an extraordinary potential," he finally said, after regaining some calm. His eyes now shone with a cruel light. "But it looks like even the greats become trash." The insult fell like a guillotine.
Ken stopped for a brief moment, back still turned. His fists tightened slightly, but he did not answer. There was nothing more to say. He resumed his walk at a steady pace without looking back once.
Luc remained frozen in place, watching the silhouette of his former friend sink into the shadows and disappear at the end of the street.
"Hmm... Me, staying with him thinking he would become a great man… what a waste of time," Luc whispered to himself. He nearly spat those words, as if to evacuate years of contained frustration. He looked once more in the direction where Ken had vanished, his thoughts already turned toward his own bright future. A slight, satisfied smile appeared on his face.
"But despite everything… you remain admirable, my dear friend Ken," he added with biting irony. He turned abruptly and took the path back to the awakening center. He knew his performance would attract attention and that several offers from influential guilds were already waiting for him to discuss his future.
Meanwhile, Ken had reached his apartment. The housing was modest, located in a building that bore the marks of time. It was not a luxurious home, but it was not unsanitary either. It was his refuge, the only place where he could still find a semblance of calm in this world that had just rejected him. He lived there alone now. Since the death of his mother, every corner of the apartment reminded him of the void she had left behind.
It had been more than two hours since he returned, but he had done nothing but lie on his bed. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling of his living room. Finally, he raised his hand slowly and activated the information chip implanted under the skin of his wrist. In the dim light of the room, an electric blue holographic screen suddenly sprang forth, floating a few inches from his face. Characters scrolled quickly before stabilizing, displaying the cold details of his current existence.
Name: Ken Tenshi
ID: 788200997073
Status: Beginner
Level: 1
Potential: F
Innate Potential: Combat
Class: Not acquired
ABILITIES
None
SKILLS
— Sword Handling level 1
LOCATION
Region: Vagnar — Sector 65
Affiliation: None
RECOGNITION
Renown (title): None
RANKING
Sector: 28,234th
Regional: 2,000,070th
Global: 190,572,983rd
NOTIFICATIONS
None
This interface was the exact reflection of his situation: it was pitiful. There was no hidden ability, no line suggesting a dormant power or a statistical anomaly that could have given him a hope of greatness. Everything was flat, ordinary, and desperately weak. Ken turned his head to the side, fleeing the blue glow of the screen that seemed to mock him.
A burning rage, born from the deepest part of his guts, suddenly rose within him. It was a physical sensation, a fire devouring his chest and clouding his mind. Without thinking, he struck the floor of the apartment violently with his closed fist. The shock echoed dully in the room.
"Damn it…" he let out through clenched teeth. The frustration accumulated since the awakening center finally exploded. He struck the ground again, ignoring the pain starting to radiate in his knuckles. Each blow was a desperate attempt to evacuate the injustice he felt.
"Was I too confident?" was his only question, a thought haunting him as he constantly relived the moment when the awakening center screen had displayed that F rank.
With such a base, the road to the peaks was definitely closed to him. He could never become a respected or influential cleaner. At best, he would end up joining low grade hunting teams, groups of ordinary exterminators who risked their lives for paltry rewards, living day to day to pick up a few crumbs.
Suddenly, the sharp sound of someone knocking at his front door pulled him from his lethargy. Ken rose slowly, his muscles numb from tension. He headed toward the entrance. He grabbed the handle and pulled the door toward him without any precaution.
"Clara?" he said in surprise, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he discovered his visitor. Surprise was written on his tired features. He certainly did not expect to see her here, especially after their past history and the events of the day.
Before him stood Clara, impeccable in her outfit. Behind her, six people waited in silence in the building hallway. They were all dressed in elegant black uniforms, the cut and materials clearly indicating their status. Ken, despite his low rank, possessed enough instinct to feel the aura of power emanating from them. They were high level cleaners, professionals whose very presence commanded respect.
"You finally open for me," she said in a tone that left no room for discussion. Without waiting for a formal invitation, she crossed the threshold and entered the apartment. Her gaze quickly swept the room, noting the modesty of the place with a certain distance. She settled on the sofa with natural ease, while Ken remained standing near the door, disconcerted by such audacity.
"The Reymond Guild made me an offer," she began, her tone remaining perfectly calm and composed. "They are going to offer me housing in their residence, full training under the direction of renowned mentors, and all the logistical support necessary for me to become an elite cleaner."
Ken listened without interrupting, observing her face which showed no hesitation. The contrast between their two situations was almost cruel. "What is your point?" he finally asked, his voice remaining neutral despite the internal storm inhabiting him. He wanted her to get to the point without further delay.
Clara looked up at him, her gaze becoming more insistent. "I want you to come with me," she said with surprising conviction. "I will take care of you. You will no longer have to worry about anything." It was a direct proposal.
Ken sketched a bitter smile upon hearing those words. "What do you gain from it?" he asked, taking a seat opposite her. He stared straight into her eyes, seeking to detect the real motivation behind this offer.
Clara opened her mouth to answer, but the words suddenly seemed to block in her throat. She hesitated, briefly looking away. "Well… I…" she stammered without managing to finish her sentence.
Ken stood up abruptly, breaking the tension that had settled in. He approached her and gently placed his hand on her black hair. He began to stroke it with a calculated slowness, a gesture he had often repeated in the past. "It looks like she is still just as in love with me... it is funny," he thought to himself as he continued his mechanical movement.
"What are you doing..." she reacted.
She seemed both embarrassed by this contact and confused by the attitude of Ken. She did not understand how a man who had just been officially ranked F, the most insignificant level there is, could still act with such confidence and allow himself to smile.
"Sorry, it is just habit... we could also say you are so cute when you are serious," Ken said slowly, ignoring that his words and facial proximity were embarrassing the young woman to the highest point.
Suddenly, Ken withdrew his hand.
"Thank you… but I must refuse," he said in a calm voice devoid of all warmth. His decision was made, and nothing seemed able to make it waver. He headed toward the door and opened it wide, signaling without ambiguity that the conversation was over. Clara jumped up, her face flushing under the blow of emotion.
"What are you talking about?!" she exclaimed, totally losing her recent calm. "You would have nothing to do, Ken! You could live comfortably, sheltered from need. I know you are in financial difficulty and that this place is going to be seized soon by the authorities. Who would be stupid enough to refuse an offer like that, when he is soon going to have no place to sleep?"
Her voice had risen a notch, vibrating with frustration and lack of understanding. She could not accept that her help was rejected in this way. But Ken remained stone faced, showing no sign of worry regarding the information she held about his personal situation. He contentedly observed her, wondering how she had been able to investigate his life so precisely.
She wanted him to live like a fallen king, like a protected parasite who stays in the shadows without accomplishing anything, but Ken refused that existence. His ambition was not comfort, but carnage. He wanted to become an active cleaner, feel the smell of blood and hear the cries of agony from the monsters he would track. It was a promise he had made to himself the day the lifeless body of his mother had been taken away, and he did not intend to give it up for a life of luxury.
Clara clicked her tongue seeing that her words had no hold on him. "Your pride will kill you one day," she said bitterly. She turned toward one of the men in black in the hallway and asked him for a pen. With a nervous gesture, she scribbled a few numbers on a piece of paper that she abruptly placed on the table. "If you change your mind… here is my phone number."
She left the apartment without another look, her elegant silhouette quickly disappearing in the hallway bathed by the building's artificial light. She represented the future, power, and glory; she would undoubtedly become one of the most influential cleaners of her generation. As for the man she still secretly loved, no one could say if he would ever emerge from anonymity.
Ken slowly closed the door, locking the mechanism with a final metallic sound. Silence fell over the apartment again, heavier than ever. He clenched his fists.
"F rank potential… huh?" he whispered in the darkness. He headed toward his bedroom with slow steps, then added in a glacial voice that seemed to address the shadows: "F rank potential or not… I will massacre you all, monsters."