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

Tomlin pointing a bow and arrow at Shadow. She was lying on the ground with an arrow sticking through her leg.

She spoke through gritted teeth. “You’ve been practicing, Tomlin,” she grunted. “A nice shot.”

“Tomlin was aiming for your heart.”

“Tomlin? Shadow?” I said, floating in. “What in all hells is going on? Shadow, what are you doing back?”

“Shadow sneaked up on Tomlin. Had a dagger in her hand. Covered in kobold blood. See? Shadow has been missing for weeks. Tomlin realized that she has betrayed the dungeon.”

“Is this true?”

“Betrayed the…” said Shadow, her face a perfect picture of shock. “Betrayed the dungeon? How could I betray it? I have no loyalty to it! Anna is my master. Sweet Anna, a kind master with really nice hair and a lovely singing voice.”

“Who, in the name of all that is wicked, is Anna? Oh…you mean the witch.”

“Anna is right here!” shouted a peppy voice. “In the flesh and at your service! Well, not at your service, because I don’t plan on helpin’ ya. But here in the flesh all the same!”

“Anna!” said Shadow, with what sounded like genuine affection.

That confirmed it to me. I knew Shadow. I had created her. I knew that the kobold was capable of a slight liking, at the very most, but certainly not true affection. Except when it came to her hounds.

The witch had used her abilities on Shadow. While she had beguiled Razensen’s monsters into turning on us, she had obviously altered Shadow’ loyalties, such as they were, so that the rogue served her.

“Right,” I said. “It seems we have a bit of an issue here, don’t we?”

Anna laughed and walked on as if she owned the bloody place. I noted that she seemed to heavily favor one of her legs.

 “I’ll say you do!” she said. “Although, I’m annoyed that you hurt my kobold. Look at that arrow! It’s gone all the way through her leg! Urgh!”

“My kobold, I think you mean.”

“My kobold.”

“My kobold.”

“Anna,” said the boy from the doorway. “Don’t get too close to them. Especially the ugly spider thing!”

“Rude and unnecessary,” said Gary. “You are a very ill-mannered young man.”

“Shut up, you hideous daddy longlegs!”

Anna shrugged. “Don’t worry about the monsters, Utta. I have you to protect me.”

“How? I don’t see any fire or wind or…”

“These aren’t ordinary leaves, Utta. Look closely.”

Utta’s eyes lit up. “Ah! Essence!”

He held his hand out. A row of essence vines nearest to him started to shake, and purple mist left them, gathering around his fingertips.

So, this lad had powers too. Who the hell were these kids?

“Don’t touch my essence, you little git!” I said.

I switched to my core voice now. “Razensen, I’m going to need you in the essence cultivation room.

There was no answer.

“Razensen?”

Razensen heard the pirates rushing down the tunnels, bellowing and shouting, their boots stomping on the stone like a herd of bison. He waited in the loot chamber, once again sheltered by the dungeon core’s tactical mounds of dirt.

Eric the barbarian patted his arm. “Don’t worry about the fear, Razensen, lad. Fear is fuel.”

“I fear nothing.”

“Don’t act tough with me. It won’t wash, and it’s stupid to boot. Most men who say they feel no fear are just kidding themselves, and a man who lies to himself wastes a precious part of his mind in keeping up the lie. I only met two people who truly didn’t feel fear, and it was the lack thereof that led to them being buried in a shallow grave in a forest, no doubt rotted away by now. I’ll feel better if I know you’re a wise enough lad to admit your fear.”

“A bogan feels no fear, barbarian.”

“Well, I’m scared. I feel like my stomach’s cramped into a knot.”

Razensen wasn’t just showing a brave face. He truly had never felt fear before a battle. The only time he’d felt fear was after Nazenfyord had almost killed him. Even when he was told that his brother’s plot had failed and that he had been chased out of their lands, he was still scared. When he lay in his sickbed, his lungs burning, feeling like every breath would be his last, dread took hold of him. And it wasn’t fear of death, as such. It was fear of dying before getting the chance to look into his brother’s eyes as he tore his head off his treacherous shoulders.

The enemy sounded closer now. Razensen began to feel excited.

“Take your marks,” he said.

His new unit of monsters spread out behind the mounds of mud, poised to run over and around them.

Razensen watched the pirates rush in one after another, some of them holding curved swords and others holding thin, pointy ones that looked no more use in battle than an axe made of snow.

They bellowed as they ran, weapons raised in a declaration of battle readiness that was just plain ice-brained. When charging into a fight, who would raise their weapon above them, instead of holding it ready to strike?

“Now!” he shouted.

The barbarian held his axe upright and by his waist, his muscles half-tensed so he could swing the weapon into the face of the first man he met. Bone guys clomped forward, iron swords ready. Frog-like bogbadugs leaped over the mounds, leg muscles bulging, their mouths opened to reveal rotted teeth, their horrible ribbit noises sounding like the death squeals of stuck pigs.

The first wave of pirates was surprised by the monsters, quickly falling amidst a sea of swords waved by skeletal arms and stumbling under the weight of giant frogs leaping upon them and tearing into their flesh.

Men screamed. Begged for help. Grunted as they tried to swing their swords and hit a target, cried as teeth sank into their flesh.

Their captain urged caution in the others. “Back,