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

“Tomlin doesn’t like it and he doesn’t trust it,” said Tomlin as he paced around my core room, hands behind his back, wearing essence cultivation gloves that looked like a baker’s oven mitts. As much as his circling around the room was making me dizzy, I needed Tomlin’s council today. His natural cowardice was a great balance to Gulliver, who would climb into a volcano if it would get him a juicy story.

Gulliver had taken his usual position leaning lazily against the wall, quill and book ready. He was wearing a shirt patterned to look like a peacock, and had made the interesting – if I was being nice about it – fashion choice of hanging little bells on his belt.

Namantep, the inactive core, was floating on the pedestal in the center of the room which I would have once occupied, before I earned the float ability. She was still completely inert, kept in the air only by the force of the pedestal.

“What exactly don’t you like or trust?” I asked Tomlin.

Tomlin pointed at Namantep. A stray string of essence vine fell off his glove. “She is a core like you, Dark Lord. If you were not my master, I would not like or trust you.”

“Tomlin, your words spear right through my tender heart.”

“Dark Lord is dangerous. But Tomlin happy when his danger is on Tomlin’s side. This core? Gives him a dark feeling in his stomach.”

“Gulliver?” I said. “What are your thoughts on our guest?”

“On the face of it, Hardere just needs a place to keep her where Dullbright won’t search. After meeting Dullbright himself, I don’t doubt that he would happily grind every core in Xynnar to dust. I think this is as simple as it seems; Hardere needed a favor, and you needed a portal stone. Contrary to popular belief, mages don’t much bother with ulterior motives and secret plans. They just don’t care enough to make the effort. The idea of mages as sneaky rats dabbling in magic was spread by an influential duke to vex a mage who refused to make a love spell for him. It seems the commoners latched onto the duke’s lies, and this idea spread.”

“You know a lot about mages.”

“Who do you suppose the duke turned to in order to spread his anti-mage propaganda in the first place?”

“You?” I said.

Gulliver laughed. “Way before my time. It was the scribes’ guild. All scribes are taught the story as apprentices so that we can appreciate the power of words. One well-aimed, well-funded propaganda campaign, and the reputation of mages has never recovered. Which is a shame, because for the most part they’re a good lot and always pay when it’s their turn for a round of drinks.”

“Even so, they’re still people. There’s always something lurking behind the face of it. Better to be safe than end up as core dust, I always say. I’ll build a chamber for Namantep. Keep it locked, keep it guarded, and keep it far away from the rest of the dungeon. Then, as long as I don’t accidentally summon a core forger to the dungeon or complete the ritual of reawakening by mistake, there’s no chance of an upset.”

“Very good. Are you ready to make a move on Cael? We’ve already given him a few days of recovery time.”

“We have a portal stone Hardere made using Cael’s blood, so it should lead us to him. Razensen needs a day or two to recover from his wounds, and then he’ll be ready.”

“Is he enough?” said Gull.

“On his own, in his normal state? No. He’s strong, but he’s not made of steel. But you saw what happened when he was mad enough and his eyes turned blood red. One blink later, nine men were pulped.”

“What’s your plan? Send him through the portal and then prod his arse with a hot poker?”

“Something like that, but I won’t be sending him alone. That would never work. We need to maneuver Cael into a trap.”

“Supposing he’s ready and waiting for you? What then?”

“A dungeon core never pursues a hero outside of the dungeon. It just doesn’t happen, it goes against our natures. It’d be like seeing a shark leave the sea to chase a swimmer onto the beach. Cael will never expect it.”

“Sharks don’t do well in the open air, Beno.”

“True, but sometimes sharks have to take a risk.”

“We’ve rather burned out this shark talk, haven’t we?”

I couldn’t have said that the remembrance chamber made me feel sad, but it certainly changed my mood. It was like stepping out of the dungeon and straight into a ray of sunlight; it couldn’t hurt me, but that didn’t mean I liked it.

The mana lamps in this chamber glowed faintly, sending out solemn traces of light. There were twelve of them on the north-pointing wall. A dozen lamps, each one lit in memory of creatures who had fallen in service to the dungeon. There was no single monster assigned with keeping them lit, and instead, everyone took turns in refilling the oil. Even Gulliver played his part. The first thing he did whenever he visited the dungeon was to stroll to the remembrance chamber.

It was illuminating, seeing the lamps. Not just in the light that they gave off, but what they symbolized. Seeing them like that, a visual reminder of the creatures who I had sent to their deaths in service to the dungeon, was important because it kept me grounded. Plenty of cores were happy to send wave after wave of kobolds, fire beetles, and other beasts straight to their deaths. When they died, they simply waited for their essence to regenerate, and then made more.

That was no way to run a dungeon. I knew the rumors that spread about me.