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

in midair, and within that ethereal picture frame I saw a cavernous room, the darkness broken only by light blinking from lamps on the walls.

Dagger-shaped rocks pointed down from the ceiling, and the acoustics of the curved room made every sound echo. This was an effect I had designed so that when a hero cried, he couldn’t escape his own whimpering. It was a work of art.

In the center of the loot room was him; the hero who had become a real pain in my arse over the last few weeks.

Cael Pickering. The middle of the three Pickering brothers. Easily the most capable hero of the bunch, and he knew it.

I wasn’t going to let him beat me again.

I studied the scene as if it were a game of chess, looking for anything I had missed, any way that my nemesis could get out of this. I rotated the frame of light back and forth, round and round, studying all angles of the loot room.

All the while, Cael stayed put, one foot on the pressure plate trap, sucking in his cheeks as he tried to think of a way to get out of it.

Had I left any weaknesses for him to exploit? If I had, they were beyond my ability to see them.

“There’s nothing he can do. See? He’s finished!” I said. “At last I’ve trapped the sword swinger! Five times this berk and his dopey brothers have waltzed into my dungeon and taken my treasure. But there’s no way out of this one.”

A figure shifted from the corner of the core room. A wolfish beast called a kobold, a species which many dungeon cores use for mining, laboring, and even fighting. I had many of them, including a kobold bard, shaman, rogue, and several miners.

“Dark Lord said he had no way out last time,” said Tomlin.

Tomlin was my oldest kobold. My oldest friend, I suppose you’d say. He always retreated to the safety of my core room whenever heroes entered the dungeon. If cowardice was measured in gold, Tomlin’s riches would make a king tremble with envy.

“This time I’m right. Look at him! His brothers can’t help. He can’t move from the pressure tile because he knows he’ll release a trap, and he’s outnumbered. If he gets out of this, then you might as well close my dungeon down.”

“Tomlin is scared, Dark Lord.”

I felt a rebuke on my tongue that was so sharp I almost cut myself with it. One stare into Tomlin’s wide, pathetic eyes was enough to stop me saying it. No good would come from kicking a kobold when he was down.

“I know you’re worried, but this is dungeon life. Heroes are always going to come. You would do better to try and get over your fear.”

“Tomlin cannot fight.”

“You don’t need to. Perhaps go to the loot room and stand in the shadows and watch how Gary, Brecht, and the others deal with it. You’ll see that heroes aren’t anything to be scared of. They’re made of flesh and blood, just like you. Flesh can be cut, and blood can be spilled.”

“Your words do not inspire Tomlin with courage.”

“Everyone gets scared sometimes, Tomlin. Bravery without fear is better described as foolishness.”

“Look, Dark Lord! Hero is doing something,” said Tomlin, pointing.

There was a movement in the frame of light that showed the loot room. Cael, still standing in the same spot, was fumbling for something in his shoulder satchel.

He was up to something. Given that thus far, Cael and his brothers had defeated almost every trap I set for them, I needed to end this quickly and without mercy.

“Gary?” I said, casting my voice beyond my room and deep into the dungeon. “Finish this. Tear out their guts. Drain their blood. Rip their heads off their necks and kick them down the tunnels, and other equally horrible things.”

Cael looked up from his satchel and spoke to the air. “Can we finish it in a second? I’m looking for something.”

“Tear him into tiny pieces, Gary,” I ordered.

In the loot room, Gary, my giant spider-troll, scuttled toward Cael. Gary was the first boss monster I had ever created. A hybrid of a troll, spider, and leech, he towered above most beings, was ugly enough to inspire fear in the stoutest of hearts, and had a ferocious appetite for hero flesh, even though he pretended that he was too dignified for such base desires.

 As he stomped forward his every step echoed through the room and created a clamor that should have stirred fear in even the bravest of heroes.

But Cael Pickering wasn’t just brave. He also had that special quality that renders bravery infallible: he was arrogant as hell, and he didn’t care to hide it. His arrogance was so shameless that it was hard to dislike him completely. As they say, arrogance is the younger brother of confidence, retaining its charm but lacking its older sibling’s wisdom. I respected anyone who had that quality, even if they were heroes who I’d have to kill.

A smile crept on Cael’s face, and he laughed in a way that was meant for me to hear it. Whatever he planned to do to get himself out of this, he was almost ready.

“Gary,” I commanded. “Slaughter him on the spot.”

Before Gary could reach him, Cael produced a leather purse from his satchel. It was tied with string and bigger than his head, and should not have even been able to fit inside his satchel. It must have been magically altered. What was he up to?

He set the bag down by his feet, and then simply stepped off my pressure trap.

“Not bad, core,” he said aloud. “I almost feel tired this time around. You’re improving, but you have a long way to go. Now, let’s see what treasure you have for me this time.”

There