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

the duke. Surrender Yondersun with no bloodshed, in the hope that he allows our people to keep their homes and jobs and live in the town under his banner.”

“Give him our town?” said Reginal. “The one we fought each other for? The one countless goblins, gnomes, and orcs have died for? The one we have built until it is beginning to flourish all the way out here in a wasteland that nobody thought could be cultivated? I will not even consider it. I will go to my grave with a hundred swords in-”

“In your belly. Yes. It is unconscionable for me as well, darling, but I will not have our people think we did not at least discuss it.”

“We fight.”

“We fight.”

“Let’s get to it then,” I said. “We need to start drilling your fighters on where they should be when we lure the duke down here. I’ll lace my dungeon with more traps than a wizard’s dirty-magazine drawer. The duke’s soldiers won’t have a clue what to do.”

“Beno,” said Galatee, “Do you think you could spare some traps for the cavern? I believe they will be useful.”

“Really? You’ve always hated the things I use in my dungeon.”

“I am a chief, Beno. I have people to protect. Needs must.”

Just then, a message sounded in my core.

Monster Melding complete.

 

CHAPTER 22

Sheltering in our dungeon beneath tons of mud, sand, and stone, we couldn’t hear the pounding of their cavalry’s horses, but we definitely felt it. The sound vibrated above us, shaking the dust from the ceiling. Kobolds stirred and whispered. Fire beetles scampered around, some waving their antennae around to try and locate the sound, others idling up to Brecht, to Shadow, to Gary and asking for pets from them.

“Hardly the behavior of fearsome warrior insects,” said Gulliver.

“They’ll be fearsome enough when the time comes.”

More thudding came from above. Speckles of dust fell from the ceiling.

Gulliver brushed his shoulder. “Seems like the time’s coming, alright.”

“We just have to hope the duke sees the signs we left for him,” I said.

“Dark Lord?” said a voice.

Tomlin stood in the archway, his kobold fur covered by combat leathers. The leathers were made to fit a young teenager since I found it cheaper to buy leathers this size in bulk and then have them re-sized by a tanner who’d set up shop in Yondersun.

He held a sword in his hand, though his palm was too close to the bottom of the hilt. Every so often he scratched his armpits and his back, clearly uncomfortable in his combat attire.

“Everything okay, Tomlin?” I said.

“Tomlin would like to speak with you.”

“Go ahead.”

The kobold looked at Gulliver. He shifted his feet. “Alone, please. No offense to Gulliver.”

Gulliver winked at him and exited the core chamber, leaving Tomlin and me alone.

“What is it?” I said.

“Tomlin is scared, Dark Lord.”

“I know that you don’t like fighting, but this isn’t just a gang of heroes. We will need everyone if we’re to have a chance, Tomlin.”

“Tomlin isn’t a fighter. He will not be any use. He does not know how to use sword, and his leather armor is too heavy for him. Tomlin…Tomlin is frightened he will die.”

You poor, poor creature, I thought.

Of course, it would not be very motivating for me to say that.

“Pull yourself together, for demons’ sakes. You’re a kobold! You’re a dungeon creature! The men coming to fight us have spent their whole lives above ground. They know nothing of darkness. They cannot fight in tunnels where the claustrophobia is so strong it seeps into their marrow. The only thing they know is that to win a battle, they have to strike quicker and stronger than their opponents. They don’t know about our kind of warfare, Tomlin. They don’t know about traps and puzzles. They don’t know what moves in the shadows down here. But you…you are a creature of that darkness! It is they that will fear you! Alright?”

He looked at least a little bit convinced, which I supposed was the best I’d get from a residual coward like him. I felt a little guilty to be so stern, but that was my job. It would do neither of us any good if I told him that he had very good reason to be scared.

“Dark Lord…if Tomlin dies, will you be careful when you choose who becomes the next cultivator?”

“You aren’t going to die, Tomlin.”

“Tomlin knows he is a coward. But he is a coward because he doesn’t lie to himself. Eric says a person must not lie to themselves about fear. Tomlin could die today. Dark Lord should be honest.”

“Then yes. This is a battle we’re not given much choice in having. There’s a chance it could be the end for all of us.”

“Then Tomlin thanks Dark Lord for giving him cultivator job and letting him learn skills. And he hopes that if dungeon wins but Tomlin dies, Dark Lord will choose someone who will carry on Tomlin’s essence vine work.”

“You’re a good kobold, Tomlin. Here with me since the beginning. You know that if I could spare even a single person from fighting, I wouldn’t put you in danger?”

“Tomlin understands.”

Galatee grimaced as she adjusted her leather armor, trying to create even a millimeter of space for her armpits to breathe.

“Do they have to make the dreaded thing so tight?”

Reginal, who had been wearing his armor since the minute he woke up that morning, held his sword and struck various defensive poses while watching himself in the looking glass and correcting his form.

“It wouldn’t do much good if the armor was so loose that it hindered movement, would it?” he said.

“Even so, with all the bloody mages and artificers crawling around Xynnar, you’d think one of them would have come up with comfortable