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

“Come on, Beno. I have to put on my most weak-sounding voice just to get you to do the right thing? Pah. You dungeon cores…you do the slightest good turn and think that you deserve an eternity of thanks.”

“Well…”

“But nevertheless, you do deserve some gratitude. I appreciate it, Beno. Truly. My powers might be gone, but whatever help I can render in the future, I will.”

“Thank you,” I said.

I wanted to leave, but something kept nagging at me. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What is it?”

“Did it hurt when Dullbright used the scaleedge sword on you?”

“More than I ever thought possible. I most certainly advise you not to try it.”

After I informed Razensen that my proposed solution was not going to work, there was really only one thing that could be done.

I stared at the demented kobolds, bone guys, and shrub bandits. I watched a kobold bare its teeth and lurch forward, biting a chunk from a fellow demented kobold’s ear. It chewed and swallowed, its teeth stained with blood and lips covered in foam.

“Look at them. The witch completely corrupted their minds,” I said. “We’ll have to destroy them. They will still get a lamp of their own in the remembrance chamber. We owe them that much.”

“I will do it,” said Razensen. “They were my unit.”

“And I created them. I won’t give an order that I’m too weak-willed to carry out. Bring them to the alchemy chamber, and we can both destroy them.”

“You do not need to concern yourself with this,” said Razensen. “They were under my watch when this happened. The responsibility is on me.”

“If I had been here instead of delegating dungeon defense to you, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“You doubt my abilities?” said Razensen.

“Not at all. I just mean that I am trained for enemies like this. I would have sensed the witch, and I would have been able to plan accordingly. You didn’t go to the academy. You have rarely fought magic users, and you are more used to physical threats than magic ones.”

“Even so, you must not blame yourself, Stone.”

“This is completely my fault. If I wasn’t spreading myself so thin, I would have been here, and we could have stopped the witch before she infected my dungeon mates. And if we had done that, then we wouldn’t need to…”

“Sometimes a person can try to climb a berg too tall for them,” said Razensen. “And they slip and break their back. You have been trying to climb three at once, Stone.”

When our task was done, I felt strangely empty. Not my usual sensation of being void of feelings, but a different emptiness. A deeper one that I couldn’t quite place. It had been a long, long day.

“Thank you for your help today, Razensen,” I said. “Go and swim in your pool, or whatever it is you like to do.”

“Did I miss anything today, Stone? I hear there was a storm on the surface. It was a shame that I didn’t get to see it. Anything but this blind heat would be a blessing.”

I thought about what we had heard in the chiefs’ meeting. That Duke Smit was traveling with a bogan, who could only be Razensen’s brother.

If I told him, Razensen would leave the dungeon and go tearing across the wasteland. His eyes would burn red with fury and he’d completely lose his senses. Nobody in his path would be safe, and Razensen himself wouldn’t be safe once he reached Duke Smit’s fort. He’d get himself killed trying to storm it alone.

Then again, was it my choice to make, to hold this from him? Was saving him from himself more important?

Damn it. What was it about today and having to make decisions?

“Nothing much happened,” I said. “We employed a weathermage to deter the duke from Yondersun. He’ll be back, but not for a while.”

“A weathermage, eh, Stone? Might be nice if you ask for a blizzard next time you see him. I will go to my pool now.”

CHAPTER 10

Deep within Fort Smiten, Duke Smit stared at the disaster before him, his sense of horror growing by the second.

“Gods, how did I get this so wrong?”

It was a question he just couldn’t answer. He’d followed the recipe, after all, but the splodge of caved-in sponge and hardened jam was less a cake and more a crime against baking.

A man entered, wearing a white apron and whistling to himself.

“Duke Smit,” said Cook Fontaine. “You…are in my kitchen.”

“My kitchen, you’ll find. Since this is my fort.”

“And yet, if I asked you to find me a spoon, you would spend all day rummaging through the drawers.”

Smit couldn’t help but grin. Only Fontaine, who had been the fort’s cook back when Smit’s father was in power, could get away with talking to him like that. Not that Smit was unfriendly with his people. He knew the names of all his soldiers and all his manor staff. But the most he shared with them was a polite “Good morning” and perhaps a smile. It didn’t look well for a leader to be over familiar with his people.

“It took me long enough to find the bloody eggs and flour. Believe it or not, this cake is my third, and best, attempt.”

“If you were hungry, Duke, you need only ask.”

“It’s Marcie’s birthday. Shayna used to bake a cake for her every year.”

“Yes, I remember. She would hog my kitchen all day long! Your wife was well-loved by the staff, Duke. Ah, she is still missed around here.” Fontaine slapped his head. “What am I saying…stupid words. I didn’t mean to be so blunt.”

“I know what you meant, Fontaine. This is Marcie’s first birthday without her mother, and damn it, I will try and make it as normal as I can. This