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

old family crests, vases, goblets, daggers, jewelry. It was a haul that would make most adventurers salivate.

It was mostly fake, of course. I wasn’t rich enough to fill my loot chest with real antiques made from gold, especially after suffering five defeats in a row. I had asked Cynthia, the Yondersun tinker, to apply a gold finish to some cheap iron trinkets. Right now, that didn’t matter. The heroes weren’t going to spend time evaluating the authenticity of each item whilst in my dungeon.

Cael’s youngest brother eyed the chest with suspicion. “No monsters to fight, Cael? A few traps, sure, but no beasts? It’s like he’s giving us all the treasure for naught. Seems funny to me.”

“Mebbe he feels bad for forgetting Cael’s birthday,” said the older brother.

“He’s left us a note,” said Cael. “How polite. Awful handwriting, though.”

“What does it say?”

Cael read the note I’d had Tomlin write for him. “Let’s see…the core says he’s giving up. He wants us to take this treasure and leave his dungeon, on the condition that we never come back.”

“Wow! We really wore him down! I’ve never heard of a core being so demoralized.”

“I almost feel bad for him,” added the other brother.

Cael didn’t try to suppress his smile. “Wait until the guild hears about this, lads. A dungeon core so scared of heroes that it gives up all its gold! Whoever heard of something like that?”

He tipped his head back and laughed, and when his brothers joined him, the loot room filled with the guffawing of heroes. The sound was like a knife twisting in my mind, cutting the strings that held back my anger and snapping them one by one.

Keep calm, I told myself. Let them have their moment, because it’s going to be their last.

The brothers filled their satchels with all the trinkets from the chest. As I’d already guessed, their satchels were magically altered to hold more than they should have been able to, allowing them to make off with a haul of glittering rewards that would ordinarily have been way too heavy to carry. My plan hinged on this very fact.

Happily chatting amongst themselves, they made their way out of the loot room and north through my dungeon, toward the exit. Having already swept for traps on the way down, they took a more relaxed approach to their return journey.

“Where we gonna go next, Cael? Now that we’ve drained this dungeon dry an’ all that.”

“Oxfitz, maybe? It’s the Oxfitz Mage parade soon, and you know what those sorceresses are like, eh? Then again, Ratty Marmaduke said that a new dungeon just opened in Briarbutt. Might be worth a visit. New cores are so eager to attract us that they fill their loot chests with the best-”

Click.

The sound that no adventurer wants to hear in a dungeon, but a sound that dungeon cores like me absolutely love. Forget rain drumming down a window on a winter’s day. Forget birdsong in a spring vale. I could listen to the clicking of traps all day.

“Shit,” said one brother.

“Bugger,” said another.

Only Cael had anything useful to say. “Nobody move!”

The brothers were silent, looking this way and that to see what horrible outcome the trap would bring.

“Damn it. I told you to clear our way! How did you miss this?” said Cael.

“I missed nothing! This is a new trap.”

“You’re saying the core placed new traps while we were in the loot room?”

“It’s the only explanation.”

“Aye. That, or you’re about as much use as a glass battle axe.”

“Hey, now! You’re the one who…”

I watched the brothers bicker with each other, feeling quite pleased with myself. After a while, I thought it was only fair that I break the silence.

“You shouldn’t be so harsh on your brother, Cael,” I said. “He’s right; the trap wasn’t there before.”

They stopped talking.

Cael was the first to answer me. “Well done, core. You tricked us. What is it, a pressure plate? You’ve already seen how I handle them.”

“I have. As a matter of fact, it was your clever display that gave me an idea.”

“Glad to be of service. Now, shut up and let me speak to my brothers. The Scorched Scorpion is calling my name, and I’m incredibly bored with this place.”

“You won’t be bored for long, I promise you,” I said.

A loud creaking sound came from the end of the passageway, signaling the opening of a hatch in the ceiling. The hatch was new, of course, and the hinges weren’t anywhere near old enough to produce such a loud creaking sound. That was done purely for effect. I would never let it be said that I don’t have any flair.

Following the sound of creaking hinges emerged a giant boulder taller than Cael and five times wider. It crashed into the tunnel with such force that the whole dungeon shook, and dust fell from the ceiling. The rock began to roll toward the heroes.

“There’s our trap!” called the youngest hero.

Cael didn’t look as worried as he should have been. “Well don’t panic, for gods’ sake. It’s a standard rolling boulder. Boring. Cliché, in fact. Come on now, core, did you really think we can’t outrun a boulder? We’re dungeoneers! We’ve outrun more boulders than you’ve had breakfasts.”

The brothers, intent on fleeing from the boulder, set off down the tunnel, heading back to the loot room. No doubt they planned to reach the loot chamber, let the boulder tumble safely by, then go their merry way.

But they only took one step down the tunnel before their plans went awry.

The youngest hero lurched, losing balance and falling onto the ground, smashing his nose. His elder brother almost lost balance too, staggering around, his back bent under a great weight.

“It’s the loot! The loot!” shouted one brother. “It’s getting heavier! What