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

did I wish harm on the Wrotuns or Eternals. So, if this dungeon truly belonged to me, and if their surface town flourished at the same time, it could only be a good thing.

Anyway, one problem at once.

The way I saw it, capturing the narkleer could be key to earning my freedom. I had a vague idea of how I would use him for that, but there was no point getting wrapped up in it until I had actually won Kainhelm to my side.

But did I really want to kill another core?

I mean, another dungeon right next door to mine. What were the chances? Well, there’s a popular adage about lightning and the frequency of its strikes, yet I knew for a fact that a blacksmith in village called Great Yarn, in the north, was written into the history books after being struck five times. The thing about probabilities is that an event may have long odds, but they are never zero.

Besides, there were good reasons to make a dungeon out here. One, this was a vast spread of unclaimed land. That’s about as rare as a sailor with all his teeth, here in Xynnar where lords and dukes gobble everything up.

And what if the dungeon core was a security system, here to protect something? It made sense. If you wanted to keep something safe and hidden, why not do it underground in the middle of nowhere, and have a core watch over it?

So…what was hidden next door to me?

I couldn’t send any of my kobolds back through the hole for fear of triggering something and waking the core. No, I needed to keep surprise on my side, and we could only go back through when we were to battle it.

Would I kill a fellow core, when it came down to it?

I probably wouldn’t have a choice.

I couldn’t continue building my dungeon with the knowledge that a strange core was next door. It was too much of a danger.

Added to that, cores can be incredibly hostile, especially older ones. While I’m a friendly sort of fellow, most cores instincts are to stab, crush, and disembowel first, and exchange pleasantries later. Aggression and propensity to violence are woven into us so they become instinct, and as well as that, a core can gain a great deal by slaughtering a compatriot. Afterall, when a core dies, his creatures need a need master. His dungeon needs a new owner.

Put two cores, bred for destruction and with capability of empathy removed, next to each other, and what’s going to happen? Human beings supposedly have empathy by the bucketload, yet they’re always slicing each other’s heads off.

No, if I wanted safety, a narkleer, and eventually freedom, the core next door had to go. If I could satisfy my curiosity about its origins before I killed it then great, if not, then my safety was the most important thing.

The last question to answer was, did I tell the people above about my discovery?

The answer was easy; no.

If Galatee directly asked me, then I wouldn’t have a choice. She was my owner, until I fixed that, and I could not refuse to supply requested information.

But lying by omission?

Easily done. If the clans didn’t know about my discovery, I could use it against them somehow. I just needed to figure a way.

I pedestal-hopped to the loot room. Not only was it the largest room, which was because most loot rooms served as a climactic battle in a dungeon and thus needed more space for the carnage, but it was also a great place to think.

The loot room was curved and the walls were high, and I always came here to ponder on things, and I imagined my thoughts seeping out of me and bouncing around the room, growing in strength.

It helped. Soon, I had planned a few things.

“Wylie,” I said, casting my voice through the dungeon. “I need you and the other miners.”

It took the kobolds longer than usual to join me, and at first, I was a little miffed at their insolence. My anger quickly dispersed when I saw them.

They were a state. Their faces looked unusually pale, and they lumbered in like a bunch of barbarians the morning after a debauched birthday party. Tarius had vomit in his beard, and Karson’s topknot was a mess.

“How long was I gone?” I said. “Surely not long enough that you all decided to toast my farewell?”

“Feel sick, Dark Lord,” said Wylie.

Ah. The anger in his voice was gone, and I understood what was wrong with them. It was a hangover from the anger dust they had eaten. Now that it had left their system, their inner organs were displaying anger of their own.

“Cheer up,” I told them. “Everyone has felt like this once in a while. Do you know the cure? A nice big dose of hard work.”

“Work, Dark Lord?”

“Yes. That thing where I give an order, and you carry it out. Remember it?”

Tarius muttered something about unions, but I chose to ignore it. The truth was that I did feel a little bad that I was the one who’d made them eat anger dust and forced them to confront a monster, but I couldn’t afford empathy right now. What kind of dungeon core gave his creatures time off because they felt poorly?

“The narkleer couldn’t confirm it because of a stupid oath, but I’m almost certain there is another dungeon core residing next to us. A neighbor, if you will. Now, to win the narkleer to our side, we have to slaughter his master.”

“Kill another core?” said Karson. “Can you do that? Isn’t it…uh…coreicide?”

“Once we leave the academy, there’s nothing to prevent one core from battling another. In fact, many cores enjoy it. Think about the cores that are taken into the service of