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

With stutters and half-sentences shepherded along by careful prodding from me - and uncareful prodding from Reginal - the scared boy described what he had seen at the oasis. He described the creature that arrived, not alone, and killed the clan members he was with.

Galatee had been right after all; this thing was a big middle finger to belief.

“Beno?” said Reginal. “Do you know what this foul beast is?”

Galatee stared at me. Reginal stared at me. The other elders, two of whom I’d barely spoken to in my time here, stared at me. All of them looking for answers.

“A creature unlike anything mentioned in books or even the darkest dungeon stories,” I said. “Who travels around with a troll and ball-like objects and can create monsters at will. I know who this is.”

I let the silence drag out. Even in moments of crisis, I know how to put on a show.

“This is the Collector,” I said.

Tasgario blinked.

Reginal made a gesture with his hand, beckoning me to go on.

“This isn’t the reaction I expected,” I said. “You’ve never heard of him?”

“Clearly not.”

I sighed. “The Collector probably has a real name, one given to him at birth, but nobody knows it. I doubt he even knows it himself. He’s been lost to legend for decades, maybe centuries. People say he exists. There are sightings of him, even. But they’re never proven and are always discredited.”

“And this Collector…what does he collect?”

“Dungeon cores. At the academy, they talk about him like he’s the Grimoire Goblin or the Hacksack Troll who steals children in fables. I honestly thought that he was a story made up by the overseers to keep us alert. That maybe there was a glimmer of truth about, say, a hero who beat a dungeon and didn’t kill the core but instead tried to steal him. I thought it was one of those stories where a seed of truth gets planted in the wrong garden and grows into an untameable thorn bush.”

“This…Collector…has come for you and Jahn, then. Clearly that is the case,” said Reginal.

“I suppose.”

“You don’t seem scared.”

“We’re forged so that we entirely lack that feeling, Reginal. I understand danger perfectly, but I don’t have the associated clouding of the mind.”

“We’ll drive this feckless kidneywipe away. I’ve fought enough battles in my life, but I can have one more. Call it my great send-off. Though, it will hardly be a battle. We outnumber this creature immensely.”

“He has a troll,” said Galatee.

I sighed. “The troll isn’t your problem. Didn’t you listen to Tasgario? He has half a dozen dungeon cores with him. That’s the only thing they can be if they’re conjuring monsters.”

“How do you know they are the ones creating monsters?”

“The Collector isn’t exactly pulling them out of his rump, is he? His cores are probably brimming with essence, and that makes them just a little bit dangerous. Galatee, I could construct a monster right now that would take a dozen clansmen to kill. Imagine six of me.”

“I shudder to think. But what danger do they pose, really? After all, you’ve proven you can’t create things unless you are in your dungeon.”

“That’s beside the point. His cores might be a higher level than me. Even if they’re lower, they have already proven they can spawn things in the wasteland, as evidenced by the monster that killed Tasgario’s friends.”

“So, these six cores…they could create enough monsters to overwhelm us?”

“I’m afraid it’s a possibility,” I said. “And think about this. Your people are tired from labor; you work them harder than gnomes in an iron mine, and you have a whole bunch of them still resting after their shift. The creatures made by the cores will be fresher than a bear after six months hibernation on a duck feather mattress.”

Reginal pounded the table. “On our naming day, of all days! Damn this all for a three-billed duck. Galatee, I see no other choice here.”

A look passed between them.

“I agree,” she said.

“Then we will surrender Jahn and Beno to this collector. Then he will need nothing from us, and so he will leave.”

“What?” Galatee said. “That wasn’t my intention at all. I thought you wanted to fight? That’s the Reginal I know. Not the sniveling gutbag who proposes that we trade with invaders.”

“Before any battle, you weigh your weapons. Think about it, Gal. I mean, Galatee. The only core we have that can create things on the surface is Core Jahn, who’s as useful in a fight as a sword made from a pixie’s dreams.”

I’d had enough of this. I wouldn’t let them even contemplate handing me over.

“Surface or not, it doesn’t matter. Stop thinking like a green-cheeked recruit on his first skirmish. Really, Reginal, I expected better.”

“Excuse me? Shall I fetch the whip?”

“Fetch it. Get Gal here to slap your arse with it, if that’s what you enjoy. I’m a free core now, Reggie, and if you come near me with that whip, I’ll spawn a creature so vile it’ll haunt every dream you have for the rest of your life.”

“Enough!” shouted Galatee, clearly ready to explode.

I composed myself. “Although I can only create monsters in my dungeon, those creatures can go to the surface. I can control the battle from my lair.”

Reginal nodded. “Fine. And my people aren’t so battle rusty that they’ve forgotten how to use their axes.”

Galatee smiled. Not a pleasant smile, but a darker one. “Finally, we are speaking like warriors, and not bickering like boys. We fought your people for decades, before the unification, Reginal. I am glad we are one clan now, but truth be told, I missed the fight, in a way.”

“Then we’re agreed. We’ll drive this bugger off our land.”

“Shadow,” I said. “Take me to the dungeon, please. I want