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

maze of tunnels in the center of the dungeon had been way too easy. I needed to spice it up a little, add a little paprika and cinnamon to a dish sorely lacking in flavor.

Beartrap x3 created!

Pitfall x2 created!

There, that ought to do it.

Using the last of my essence, I created the traps and placed them in the tunnel maze. Simple snares like these weren’t likely to wipe out a hero party, but if I could snag a couple of them then it was worth it. At the very least it would keep them on their toes, which would make them tense. A tense hero often becomes a dead hero.

“Word is that you tasted success,” said a voice, coming from behind me.

“Overseer Bolton. I asked you not to do that!”

There, leaning against a wall, was the bald overseer himself. Instead of his overseer robes, he wore a pair of leather dungarees with a checkered shirt underneath. His clothes and skin were covered in mud and dust.

While staring at Overseer Bolton I got the strangest feeling, like a little gremlin knocking on the inside of my mind. This little gremlin was trying to remind me about something. Yes, there was something special about today, but what was it?

Damn it, I couldn’t remember. It was like those finger traps that jesters give to children at parties; the harder you struggle, the tighter the trap gets. If I stopped trying to think, which was easy for me to do, it would come to me.

“Have you been busy, Bolton?” I asked.

He jerked his thumb to the ceiling. “It’s all-go up there. Your compatriot Core Jahn is learning surface-crafting most excellently, however, Chief Reginal is loath to begin constructing houses for his people.”

“I thought they were keen to stop living in tents?”

“It’s those damned thermal pockets. Reginal has had all of his people combing the wasteland searching for cracks, holes, or any sign there might be a thermal pocket beneath. He even roped me in to help.”

“You? Doing physical labor?”

Bolton laughed. “Like asking a cow to bathe a goose, no? But I helped because labor is exercise for the soul. Now, my little core, I am tired of inspecting dirt and instead turn to matters closer to my heart. I understand you have been a busy, busy core. And a clever one too, if the stories are to be believed.”

“You heard about the heroes?” I said. “How? Their corpses aren’t even cold yet.”

“Word spreads fast, and it spreads especially fast in a wasteland where throwing stones at the sun counts as entertainment.”

I decided to be modest. “I’ve had some blinding success. Mostly through my own sterling battle tactics.”

“Quite so. Carry on the way you are, and the academy might regret its decision about you, Beno. But I’m not here to slap your arse and tell you how great you are.”

“Then to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’d like to tour your dungeon. See how things are shaping up.”

“I don’t answer to the academy anymore. I don’t have to let you traipse around checking every nook and cranny.”

“Something to hide?”

“I’m just busy.”

“Well, you may not answer to the academy, but you answer to your owner, First-Leaf Galatee. I am acting on her authority.”

Damn it. If that was true and Galatee had asked him to come and check on me, then he was acting as her proxy and I would have no choice but to obey, due to the contract.

There was one way to test it.

“I refuse you permission to step a foot further into the Fungeon.”

Bolton opened his mouth in mock shock and covered it with his hand. “Fungeon? What…forget it. Oh no, whatever will I do if you refuse me permission? Oh, that’s right. I will just disregard anything you say. I have a job to do, Beno, and no amount of unrighteous indignation will prevent it.”

And with that, Bolton walked past me and out of the room, heading down a tunnel that led to the essence cultivation room.

As I watched him go, I felt a flare of panic. If Galatee asked Bolton to inspect my dungeon, there were two reasons.

One, my role here was to defend the clan against invaders, and she probably wanted to make sure I was building an army of creatures and training them up, instead of messing around and reading Soul Bard or something.

Two, she most likely suspected me of plotting something. Why she would think that of me, I had no idea, but for some reason, people are always so suspicious of me. It’s a cynical, cynical world.

But motives for the inspection aside, I was in trouble. Bolton had not only worked for the academy for decades, but he had built the greatest dungeon in existence. If there was something about dungeon-building that Bolton didn’t know, then it was probably a lie.

That, and his overseer skills, meant he had a specialization in seeing dungeon traps, secrets, and puzzles. It meant that as soon as he walked by the room where we had covered up the narkleer hole, he’d sense something wrong.

I couldn’t afford for him to find out. If he did, he’d tell Reginal and Galatee, and my slight, slight chance of using the narkleer to gain my freedom would be ruined.

Damn it.

I quickly checked my dungeon map and saw that Bolton was almost at the essence room, roughly ten minutes’ walk from the narkleer hole.

“Tomlin,” I said, sending my voice out through the dungeon.

Tomlin was in the essence room, kneeling beside a vine bulging with essence plants and carefully pruning them to encourage growth. The look of concentration in his eyes was immense. Checking his stats, I saw that he was a level 12 cultivator now. It wasn’t hard to be impressed with his dedication.

“Tomlin busy,” he