Kazuki Tanaka had lived through a lot in the last 24 hours.
He had been electrocuted, reincarnated into a medieval mud pit, mobbed by peasants, and nearly worshipped as a sky-born prophet. His hygiene standards were shattered. His soul, cracked. His gloves? Gone.
But this… this was the final straw.
He stared at the rag he'd been given by a so-called "healer" to clean his face. It looked like it had been used to wipe a pig's backside—and then reused as a napkin. The healer grinned, revealing three yellow teeth and one worm wiggling in a molar like it paid rent.
Kazuki's eye twitched.
"No. Absolutely not," he muttered, flinging the rag away like it carried the plague (which it probably did).
Then it happened.
The air around him shimmered faintly, like heat off pavement. His skin tingled, and the grime on his arms began to flake and lift—*on its own*.
"What in the bleach-scented hell?"
From his palms, a soft blue light began to glow. He could feel it. Not heat. Not electricity. But something… *clean*. Holy, even.
A faint chime echoed in his mind:
> **You have awakened the skill: \[Purify Touch] — Level 1.**
> Dirt, grime, minor infections, and non-magical toxins will be removed on contact.
Kazuki blinked. Then he screamed.
Not out of fear—but out of joy.
"YES! I HAVE MAGIC! CLEANING MAGIC!"
Villagers gathering outside the healer's hut peeked in, alarmed. One of them—an old farmer missing an eye—snorted. "Hah! Magic that *cleans*? What kind o' divine joke is that?"
Kazuki burst through the door, holding up his glowing palms like a priest at a disinfectant revival.
"Laugh all you want, swamp dwellers. But this is the first miracle this village has seen since hand soap."
Some children clapped. Others threw cabbage.
But Kazuki didn't care. With trembling hands, he touched a filthy rock by the road.
The grime evaporated.
The rock shone.
Gasps echoed.
He turned to a rusty bucket. One touch—and it gleamed like it had been chrome-plated.
The villagers murmured.
"Witchcraft!"
"Blessed touch!"
"Is he… polishing the *rocks*?"
Kazuki turned slowly, his voice deadly calm. "*Everything* deserves to be clean. Even the rocks."
That evening, he discovered his second skill.
After being "invited" to stay at the local inn (a glorified shack with hay beds and a rat named Gerald who clearly ran the place), Kazuki nearly passed out from the stench.
"I cannot sleep here," he whispered. "If I lie down, the bacteria will unionize."
Clutching his tunic, he curled into a corner and focused—desperate for anything to shield himself from the filth.
That's when it activated:
> **You have unlocked the passive skill: \[Sanitize Aura] — Level 1.**
> Nearby area becomes resistant to filth, odor, bacteria, and minor diseases.
> +10 Cleanliness to surrounding environment. Lasts until focus breaks.
The stench *lifted*.
The mold on the walls flaked away like dead skin.
Even Gerald the Rat paused mid-scurry, sniffed the air in confusion, then curled up for a nap like he'd been touched by divinity.
Kazuki slept that night in a bubble of pure, blessed cleanliness.
---
The next day, Kazuki's magic became more than a novelty.
It became salvation.
A noble caravan arrived unexpectedly—gold-trimmed, ostentatious, and woefully out of place among the village's mud huts. A young girl, no older than ten, was carried out on a litter. Pale, feverish, shaking.
"Rot Plague," the healer whispered grimly. "In the blood. She won't last the night."
The nobleman, Lord Elric du Marvale, stood over her, face twisted with despair. "None of your herbs work. And the nearest cleric is three days away!"
"Let me try," Kazuki said.
The villagers laughed. Even the healer chuckled, handing Kazuki a wooden spoon like a joke.
But Kazuki stepped forward, his face dead serious. "Back away. I'm going in."
He approached the girl. Her skin was clammy, her breath shallow. Pustules dotted her arms.
*Don't panic,* he told himself. *You've cleaned worse in public restrooms.*
He took a deep breath and laid both hands gently on her. \[Purify Touch] surged.
Light bloomed from beneath his palms. A wave of sterile energy pulsed outward. The boils faded. Her breathing evened out. Her skin flushed with life.
Gasps rose from the crowd. One woman fainted.
"She… she's breathing normally," the healer stammered.
The nobleman knelt. "You… you cured her."
Kazuki stood up, brushing imaginary dust off his now-glowing tunic. "No. I *sanitized* her."
> **\[Purify Touch] leveled up to Level 2.**
---
By sundown, Kazuki was a local legend.
The noble offered him gold (which Kazuki refused—*filthy coins*), the village healer offered to be his apprentice, and someone tried to build him a shrine out of used soap.
Kazuki declined, naturally.
But that night, standing atop a barrel, looking out over the freshly scrubbed village square, Kazuki made a vow.
"I don't know why I'm here. I don't know how I got this magic. But one thing is certain: this world is disgusting.
And I will clean it.
One plague-ridden peasant at a time."