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

Kobold [Cost 35]

Angry Elemental Jelly Cube [Cost 75]

Shrub Bandit [Cost 100]

Sinister Owl [Cost 120]

Stone Dwarf Troll [Cost 180]

Porcu-Pinetree [Cost 195]

Bogbadug [Cost 200]

*New* Chain Imp [Cost 200]

*New* Poltergeist [Cost 200]

Bone Guy [Cost 250]

Hivemind Shrooms [Cost 375]

Mimic [Cost 500]

*New* Lizard-Pegasus [Cost 550]

*New* Yeti Priestess [Cost 615]

Drownjack [Cost 790]

*New* Double-sided Minotaur [Cost 825]

Clock Work Sentry [Cost 1007, Artificer required]

Balachko [Cost 3000]

My last level up had unlocked new creatures for me to craft. Some were common creatures that I’d read about in my studies in the Dungeon Core Academy. I mean, who hadn’t heard of a lizard-pegasus or a poltergeist?

Others, however, weren’t as common. It wouldn’t be an unreasonable question to ask, 'what the hell is a double-sided minotaur?' 'What in the name of Xynnar is a yeti priestess?'

The one that interested me most today was the chain imp. Its low essence cost suggested a creature of not much offensive ability, and that was a fair thing to assume. On its own, the chain imp was worthless to have around once a core grew their dungeon to a higher difficulty. But when you put them into a monster melding chamber…

Feeling a plan forming, I used some of my essence.

Monster created: Chain Imp

Essence Remaining: 2260 / 2460

“Look now, what’s this?” said Gulliver, taking a step back. “A little goblin of some sort, but uglier…if that were even possible.”

Standing before us was an imp. Three feet tall, its skin as red as a slapped arse, with wings smaller than a duck’s, and a mouth full of blackened, razor-sharp thorn-shaped teeth. It held a sword in one hand and a poker in the other.

“Hello, little fella,” said Gulliver, resting on his haunches as if he was talking to a child.

“Gull, you’ve become too used to dungeon creatures, and you’re forgetting that they are dangerous. Take a step back.”

“Why? He belongs to you, doesn’t he?” he leaned forward and squeezed the imp’s cheeks. “You’re a cute little bugger, I’ll give you that much.”

The imp took a step to the side. But though he had moved to his right, a twin copy of him was still standing where he had just been.

He stepped again, creating another copy. He did this again and again until he’d formed a ring of little imp copies around Gulliver. The one standing behind Gulliver cackled and pricked the scribe’s arse with his sword. The other imps shrieked with laughter.

Gulliver jumped and rubbed his buttock. He turned this way and that, trapped on every side by imps who were pointing pokers at his posterior.

“Alright, alright,” I said. “Come on, imp, let’s have none of that. Gulliver is a friend of the dungeon. Now, as is the custom in my lair, I like to give creatures the chance to name themselves. Do you have a name?”

“Ken!”

“Dracksilva!”

“Morose Mack!”

“Kentwhistle!”

The dozen imps all said a different name, each of them shouting at once until most of the names were lost in the general hubbub. The sound of imp voices babbling in a chorus became deafening.

“Enough! Unlink your chain, please, and speak to me as one.”

The imps stepped into each other, one at a time, until just one of them stood before me.

“There, you see?” I told Gulliver. “A chain imp. In battle, they can create copies of themselves, linked by an invisible chain. Only by knowing which is the true imp can you kill them.”

“Remarkable,” said Gulliver, rubbing his rump.

“The problem is, they’re not exactly the most fearsome of warriors. The ability to copy themselves makes them tough, and it means they can ambush people while staying in plain sight, since few fighters would expect them capable of forming a copied chain. But…they’re about as tough as a paper shield. Put an imp up against a well-seasoned hero, and there’d be no match.”

“Right. How is this thing going to help against a duke’s army?”

“Creating the imp is only step one of my plan. Watch.”

Next, I created a poltergeist and a bone guy. Given that poltergeists were ghosts with scores to settle, and bone guys were walking skeletons, they had a certain undead kinship that would help them bond better in the melding room. It was a little-known melding-chamber trick that combining creatures that shared similarities would increase your chances of getting a good monster and not a ridiculous freak.

“And what are we expecting here?” asked Gulliver, as all three creatures took their places on the rune circles.

“If this goes to plan, we’ll get undead skeleton warriors with a poltergeist’s invisibility, and the chain-imp ability to make copies of themselves. Invisible, undead, multiplying warriors.”

“And if it doesn’t go to plan?”

“We’ll get a ghostly imp who drops little bones everywhere. Okay, melding room. Get to it.”

Monster melding in progress.

Chief Reginal paced up and down the room, grumbling and coughing. Galatee, who had shown great patience up to now, finally snapped.

“Reginal! Reginal…dear…can you stop pacing?”

“It’s this damned cavern. The idea of it. Tons of stone above us, waiting to crack and fall on our heads…”

“You have been in Beno’s dungeon lots of times.”

“That was different! That was when I knew I could get out.”

“Then let’s do what we came here to do and make a plan. Beno, have you been busy?”

“Busier than a tavern owner when the king’s navy turns up at the docks,” I said. “I have a new creature in the process of creation, and I have made a new unit of monsters.”

“Those bloody beetles? What good are they?”

“Fire beetles, actually. They’re cheap as hell for me to make, have tough shells, and can use fire attacks.”

“They don’t even reach up to my knee, Beno.”

“Doesn’t matter. They cost so little essence that I could make 30 of them.