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

“Quite,” agreed Galatee. And then, her expression changed. Her brow unfurrowed just a tad, and her eyes became a little less glaring, and more twinkly. “Though, I have to say, Reginal. Part of Core Beno’s explanation rings true. I swear I have heard of thermal pockets before.”

Reginal stroked his chain. “It may be. Hmm.”

Now, I received a message in my inner core.

Brecht [Kobold, Bard] has leveled up to 16!

- Song learned: Chorus of Courage

Well done Brecht!

I didn’t actually say this, because that would reveal that he hadn’t been merely tapping his tambourine, but had been using his bard skills. So instead, I gave my kobold the core version of a wink.

Which is nothing, because we don’t have eyes.

Reginal and Galatee hadn’t quite digested my story, but at least they’d swallowed it. Bards really are brilliant, aren’t they?

Alas, they also have their limitations. I had tried to get Brecht to play his song of persuasion while I convinced Galatee that she should relinquish ownership of me, but it hadn’t worked. It was all down to a bard’s skill level, and a person’s inner resolve, you see.

For example, Galatee’s belief that I was her property was deeply ingrained in her, and as a level 15 bard, Brech wasn’t able to override that.

But, today they hadn’t quite known what had caused the explosion, so Brecht’s beautiful music was effective in wrapping conviction to my words.

“I suppose I owe you an apology, Core Jahn,” said Galatee. “Reginal and I are so wrapped up in our duties, that we forget that for every inch of this land we make our own, miles and miles of it are untamed. You are not to be blamed for natural phenomena.”

“Apology accepted, your grace,” said Jahn.

He sounded like he fully believed it. Even though he had been the cause of the explosion, there was no need for Brecht to use his Bard skills on Jahn. He was as gullible as they came.

Reginal, still gripping his whip, stared at Jahn. There was still suspicion in his eyes; his will must have been stronger than Galatee’s.

Behind him, Brecht still tapped on his tambourine, though he began to lose the rhythm, and his whistling was dropping a note here or there. He must have been running out of mana.

Was Reginal going to buy it?

“Those damn thermal pockets,” I said. “Reginal, if you like, I can teach your tunnelers how to spot them. It should avoid any nasty surprises in the future.”

Reginal said nothing; he just eyed Jahn. Seconds passed, stretching into a full minute.

Finally, he nodded at me. “That would be sensible, Core Beno,” he said, and strode off toward his workers and began helping them pile any unspoiled food away from the sinkhole.

Galatee soon joined him, leaving Jahn and me alone.

“Oh, hey Gull,” said Jahn.

Gulliver smiled at the core. “That was lucky, my friend. You nearly beno’d things up!”

“Exactly. That was close,” said Jahn. “I thought I had really Beno’d up. I don’t want to be whipped again. Not after last time. Thank the Demons Below for thermal pockets, eh?”

I grimaced, remembering the sounds of pain Jahn had made when Reginal used his whip on him. I couldn’t even remember Jahn’s transgression now, but it surely wasn’t worth the punishment.

No, this couldn’t stand. Cortes weren’t meant to feel pain. We weren’t objects, we weren’t slaves, we weren’t just tools to be ordered around.

I had to put an end to it, and get Jahn and me our freedom. Only then, as a being belonging only to myself, could I start really progressing. Doing what a dungeon core should, what I was made for; expanding my underground lair and building a den of diabolic destruction that would make heroes’ bowels loosen at the thought of it.

But first, freedom. I would get it for Jahn and me.

“Jahn, be careful with fire tile traps. Don’t place anything fire-related near your essence vines, okay?” I said. “I need to go; I have dungeon stuff to attend to.”

“I’ll stay up here and chat to my good friend Jahn for a while,” said Gulliver.

And with that, I pedestal-hopped back into my dungeon.

CHAPTER 5

Maginhart headed out of the dungeon and to the surface, where I had instructed him to find Cynthia, the Eternal clan’s tinker. The Wrotuns didn’t have a tinker, and as such Cynthia had found her skills in high demand when the two clans merged.

The mammoth task of helping transform an expanse of nothingness into fertile lands meant Cynthia the tinker hadn’t been asked to make small items like mirrors, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t. Even I knew how mirrors made, but they weren’t in my crafting list, so it wasn’t a case of just using essence to construct one.

It shouldn’t be a tough task for a tinker. Simple ones were constructed using iron or silver polished with mana-infused oil until clarity and reflection were achieved.

“The sssurly tinker sssurely will not sssuffer to acquiesssce to a sssimple kobold’sss requestsss,” Maginhart had said when I told him what to do.

“Okay, Magen, buddy, that’s it. I’ve had enough. You need to admit it now; You loaded that sentence with tons of s’s on purpose.”

“Thisss kobold would do no sssuch thing.”

“At any rate, take the dungeon token with you,” I said. “Tomlin has it, I believe.”

“Dungeon token?”

“Chief Reginal gave it to me so that I could requisition supplies I need for my work. Or rather, so my kobolds could do so on my behalf. Because, as you rightly say, a person’s instinct when a kobold asks for something is to tell them to take a hike. But as long as you show Cynthia the token, she’ll give you what you need.”

So, Maginhart was up on the surface procuring mirrors and a grain sack for me.