Dungeon Core Academy: Books 1-7 (A LitRPG Series) by Alex Oakchest (book suggestions txt) 📕

I knew what was coming next.

Reginal nodded at one of his clan members, a small goblin with a snaggletooth and who always squinted at people when he talked to them.

“Fetch the whip,” Reginal said. “And stop squinting at me.”

The whip. Great.

“Is that necessary?” asked Galatee.

Reginal nodded, arms folded in the same way he did whenever his orders were questioned. “It’s not just necessary, it’s essential.”

“Essential is a synonym for necessary,” said Gulliver. “They mean the same thing.”

“What’s a synonym for idiot scribe?”

“Moron writer,” offered Gulliver. “Imbecilic author. Donkey-brained novelist…”

“Shut up,” said Reginal, then turned to Galatee. “I know you don’t like whips and things, but sometimes you need to force them to respect you. You see…”

The two leaders fell into a discussion about the use of physical punishment to instill authority, while the snaggle toothed goblin scarpered away to fetch the whip.

“The whip?” muttered Gulliver to me. “Few good things come from the words fetch the whip. Except in a Tatanooka pleasure house when you’re sauced and you tip the house mistress an extra silver.”

“Reginal doesn’t trust Jahn and me. Ever since the clans joined together and they became joint leaders, Reginal’s treated me like psychic who offers to read a man’s fortune by inspecting his skin moles.”

“He is suspicious of you both.”

“Of all cores, I think. Of our construction, which the academy shroud in secrecy, and our intentions, which I also shroud in a healthy dose of secrecy.”

Reginal had good reason to distrust me, of course, but now wasn’t the time to think about it.

No, now was the time to think about whips.

“As I understand it, man’s weapons can’t harm a core,” said Gulliver. “Have I got that right?”

“Normal weapons, no. It’s like shooting water at a duck. But if something is made with mana, or it’s alchemically altered, I start to worry. Reginal’s got an Alchemically-Altered Reverse Essence whip.”

The whip was made by La Rue da Manyouirno, an artificer of renown, with much of his renown coming from his inability to come up with catchy names for his inventions. He had also created the Telekinetic Steel Handheld Mobile Plate to Mouth Device, otherwise known as a fork. A fork that lifted food to your mouth telekinetically.

But while the TSHMPMD fork wasn’t dangerous, his essence whip was the opposite. It wasn’t dangerous to most living creatures, but to cores like Jahn and me, it was a real bitch of a tool.

Gulliver nudged me. “Looks like he’s back. You’re right; that’s no ordinary whip.”

Reginal took the whip from Snaggletooth Squinter and held it aloft. The handle was made from leather but had a blue gem sitting on top. From this gem stretched a wavy length of light, a sliver of blue and red streams of luminescence that twisted this way and that when Reginal moved his hand.

I grimaced at the sight of it.

Poor Jahn. I couldn’t let this happen.

“Tell the other core to join us,” said Reginal. He glanced at me, sitting on the pedestal point. “You can share the same block of stone as another core, no?”

“They are called pedestal points,” I said, refusing to show my fear of the whip. “And yes. What do you plan on doing with your toy?”

“You cores think you are so clever. The Wrotuns may have trusted you, but I see you. I see the crafty looks on your faces.”

“We don’t have faces. In case you didn’t notice, we’re made entirely of gemstone.”

“I feel it, then. I feel your sneakiness like bile in my stomach after a night of beer and merriment. I have told Galatee many a time that you cores are plotting against us. Finding ways to undermine our efforts to transform this wasteland into a real home.”

“Galatee?” I said. “Surely you don’t believe this?”

First Leaf Galatee regarded Reginal carefully. She snapped her fingers.

Nothing happened.

She turned to face the procession of Wrotun people who had followed her and Reginal out of the caverns and to the surface.

“I thought I told you,” she said, almost under her breath. “When I snap my fingers, I expect someone to appear by my side in an instant.”

“That isn’t always feasible,” muttered a dwarf.

“And it seems a rather pointless display of power,” I added. “I assume it is to heighten your authority. But authority in appearance only isn’t authority at all, Galatee. A leader earns respect through action and integrity.”

“What would you know of leadership or integrity, Core Beno?”

“Do I need to remind you that I currently have a multitude of creatures under my employ?”

Galatee laughed. “Your kobolds and your strange spider-leech monstrosity?”

“His name is Gary.”

“She’s got a stare that could bake bread,” said Gulliver. Then added, “I don’t know what I mean by that.”

“Enough,” said Galatee. “We made your duties clear to you and Core Jahn. You are to continue building defenses in your dungeons to protect our main cavern system, while helping cultivate the wasteland. Yet, all I see is a hole in the ground and miles and miles of barren soil.”

“We’re dungeon cores, Galatee. The clue is in the name. We’re used to creating labyrinths of misery, mutilation, and murder. The three M’s. We aren’t farmers.”

“Ah yes. You have to learn how to work with your essence on the surface. The academy sent an instructor to teach you, yet for all your lessons – which counts as time away from your duties, I might add – you have nothing to show for it.”

I thought back to my lessons with Instructor Samson Bing. He wasn’t a Dungeon Core Academy Instructor, though the academy had sought him out and sent him here at Overseer Bolton’s request. Samson specialized in purchasing cores rejected by the academy and teaching them to use their