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

Only now, dangling myself as a prize, did I see in a change in the Collector's face. His three noses twitched, and his medley of eyes stared at me with such an intensity that it was like he was trying to burn holes in me. Which, without knowing where he got his eyes from, might have been possible.

“Cores,” I said. The half a dozen cores, glittering in different colors and shapes like a jeweler’s display case, stared at me. Though, like myself, they lacked eyes, I could feel their attention on me.

“Surely you see the ridiculousness of your predicament,” I told them. “Invading another core’s lair. Serving this wretched thing. You don’t have to wield your essence for him, my friends. I am well regarded by the Dungeon Core Academy, you know. I am something of a cult figure in the overseers’ eyes. Renounce your servitude to this fool, and you could have dungeons of your own.”

The Collector had been silent all this time, and he didn’t say anything even now.

Instead, he laughed. A horrible cacophony of several laughs coming from several mouths, each sound produced by several vocal cords collected from all manner of unfortunate beings. I heard the guffaw of a goblin, the hearty laugh of a barkkin, the deep throaty mirth of an eldritch.

“Leave your comedy to the experts,” said the Collector. “My collection has heard quite enough jokes recently. Your words are like swamp air, my dear friend. No substance except the stink they carry with them.”

I ignored him, concentrating on the cores. I didn’t even know if it was possible, but if I could get even one of them to turn…

“Core life doesn’t mean servitude,” I told them. “Trust me on this, because I know it more than most. My friends, I am a free core. And without this hodgepodge of stolen limbs looming over you, you could be free too.”

The Collector stroked its many chins with many of its fingers.

“A free core, hmm? A lovely thought. One that raises many questions, which I have the answer to. Cores? Help me welcome a new addition to my collection.”

Light burst from each core as they used their essence, spawning creature after creature before them until soon, the loot room resembled the ballroom at a kobold’s birthday party.

The Collector stepped into the room fully now, and his cores rolled on their platforms until they had all left the tunnel archway and were inside the core room.

“I suppose I have my answer,” I said.

Using essence of my own, I used some essence of my own.

Steel door created!

A door appeared where the Collector had once stood, covering the archway. It was of simple construction and with an easily beaten lock, but I wouldn’t give the Collector time to work on it, nor even realize that he needed to.

 “Pendants please, Shadow. The rest of you know what to do.”

The Collector and a brand-new host of creatures were ready for battle. His eyes, every single one of them, seemed to thirst for it, and it was in that instant I knew that it wasn’t his collection that pleased him, but the act of collecting it.

Yes, he really was no different from the heroes that trawled through dungeons. He ached to best dungeon cores, to outthink and outfight them. Unlike heroes, though, he wasn’t content with loot, and had to keep his defeated cores as trophies.

But his bloodthirsty expression soon changed.

Knowing our plan, all of my creatures bolted out of the loot room, each fleeing down different tunnels.

Shadow took three blaudy stone pendants from her bag.

“The second you activate them, run,” I told her.

I left the loot chamber pedestal and materialized in my core room, where I quickly cast an image of the loot room in front of me.

Shadow stroked each pendant and whispered the words she had once heard heroes use, before they unleashed full moonlight. She threw them into the center of the loot room and as the pendants began to tremble and glow, she sprinted toward a tunnel.

A voice cried out.

“Karson!”

It was Tarius, standing in one tunnel archway and pointing at his friend.

Karson was still in the loot room!

One of the Collector’s new rot flies had shot its sting at him as he fled, piercing his leg. He was lying on the ground, clutching his thigh as the rot venom bloated it.

I knew it was hopeless. It was already too late to help him.

Could I risk everything for one kobold?

As much as it pained me, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

“Get back,” I ordered.

Despite my mastery of him, Tarius’s bond with Karson was strong enough that he fought against the order.

“Karson!” he shouted.

“Gary, grab him,” I said.

A leech leg wrapped around Tarius and pulled him away, and Gary and the kobold went further down the tunnel, away from the loot room.

Then, with three flashes bright enough to chase even the stubbornest of shadows away, holy light exploded out of the pendants and washed through the room like a spiritual tidal wave, lashing over the Collector and his cores.

CHAPTER 33

“Dark Lord!” yelled Tomlin.

There was no time to dwell on the loot room, because Tomlin was pointing to a core image of my eastern dungeon.

Milark and his dwindling host of monsters had powered their way through the ancient halls and mural-lined passageways. My scant traps had taken out a few more of them, it seemed, but I knew that I had no more traps left. I simply hadn’t had the time to bring this new set of passageways and chambers up to my usual standard.

There was only one obstacle left for the troll, now armorless thanks to Megalodonid, but what an obstacle it was.

They had reached