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

“Just calm down, you big baby,” I said. “I can’t hurt that much.”

“It’sss taking my blood!”

“Don’t be silly, it’s nothing as hideous as that. It’s taking your memories.”

It is well known that in Xynnar there are alchemist sorcerers who, when given a drop of blood, can work their spells and tell you who the blood came from, why they spilled it, and can even use it to control the poor sap. And how do they do that?

Using magic and leeches, obviously.

Dungeon leeches differ greatly from regular swamp kinds, and added to that, a monster melding room can lend unexpected bounties to anything it blends. This was what I had banked on, and now I was incredibly grateful for all the hours I had spent alone in the academy library, while the rest of the cores were larking about. If I hadn’t, I would never have learned of core Tayla and her boss monster.

Dolos sucked on Maginhart’s ankle, draining not blood but memories. Its skin began to take on colors, which gradually transformed into images flashing inside its body one after another.

Within the leech’s skin, faces appeared. First Cynthia the tinker. Then Chief Reginal. Clansmen and women who I had barely met. Dozens of them flashed inside the creature, forming one after another until it was hard to keep up with them all.

After the faces came a medley of pictures. I saw carts, vegetables, shirts, spades, anything Maginhart had ever seen while on the surface.

Dolos grew bigger, his body bulging at the seams as though ready to burst.

Maginhart stared at it wide-eyed, clearly too surprised to utter even a single word.

“That’s enough, Dolos,” I said.

The mimic-leech unlatched from his ankle. Maginhart stepped away, then rubbed his sore skin. There were a series of teeth marks left on him, though it could barely be called a wound and would have no lasting effects.

“Step outside the room a second, please,” I told Maginhart.

The kobold looked at me with hurt in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Maginhart, but you wouldn’t have agreed to let a leech bite you if I’d told you that was going to happen. I know for a fact it doesn’t hurt much.”

Maginhart traipsed out of the room while muttering to himself, leaving Dolos and me alone.

“Let’s see…” I said. “Dolos, can you turn into Cynthia the tinker, please?”

Dolos’s body transformed now. Expanding, twisting, bulging, taking on color and height, stretching upwards and outwards until a person was standing before me.

She was a five-feet tall ratbrid with cunning eyes and a snout adorned with not just whiskers, but a pair of tinker’s goggles. She wore a leather chest piece designed not for combat but to spare her from the occupational hazards of a tinker, who dealt with all kinds of chemicals.

I had met Cynthia twice, and had I not created Dolos myself, I would have sworn this was our third meeting. The imitation was outstanding in all ways but one; this version of Cynthia the tinker smelled like a garbage pile in the Underworld.

 Though I hadn’t expected the stench, it didn’t surprise me. All mimics had a tell; something about them that betrayed what they were. For some, it would be some kind of physical defect in their imitation. For Dolos, it seemed, the smell was his giveaway. I’d have to bear that in mind.

“Maginhart,” I called. “Come back in, please.”

Maginhart entered the room, having procured a bandage for his ankle from somewhere, which was surprising since I don’t keep bandages in my dungeon. When he entered the melding room, he stopped. His eyes lit like fireworks.

“Cynthia!” he called.

He rushed over to his tinker friend, only to stop and cough. “Cynthia…a sssmell lurks around you. I am sssory, the dungeon isss not a nice place for you.”

“That’s not the smell of my dungeon, you cheeky lizard,” I said. “It’s the mimic.”

“Dolosss?”

“The same. Dolos, transform back, please.”

My boss monster did as commanded. As Cynthia the tinker disappeared and gradually resumed the form of a transparent leech, Maginhart fainted.

“Karson, Tarius,” I called out. “Come and help your friend. Be nice to him, he’s had quite a day. Some bloody cruel person made a leech bite him.”

Fainting kobolds aside, I was pleased. Dolos was going to come in very useful to me. In fact, I already had a way to improve him.

And not only that. Perhaps there was a way to earn my freedom that didn’t involve the narkleer. I would still need the creature for my dungeon, but if I could earn my sovereignty back from Galatee without causing harm…

I needed to think of a plan. One of many, it seemed. I needed a plan for everything these days. Luckily, I had plenty of things to experiment with.”

“Wylie,” I said. “Come here, please. And bring the werewolf essence dust. I need to see what happens when you give it to a mimic.”

CHAPTER 24

The morning after I had met my new mimic boss monster, I gathered my clanmates in the south-east section of the dungeon. The hole that led into the dungeon next door was in the corner of my vision, tempting me, drawing me in. I ignored it until I finished my briefing.

Much like in our celebratory loot room meeting, it was a full house today. Not every dungeon creature would play a part in the conquest to come, but they all needed to know the script.

I had explained my plan to my clanmates over and over while Gulliver watched from a corner of the room, scribbling notes in his book. His experience as a warscribe had taught him there were times when his quips and morsels of advice were best left unspoken, and he’d said nothing as I explained our plan.

“You’re all absolutely sure about your