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

And worse, I was the one making him do so.

“That is not all,” I said. “We are also saying goodbye to another of our dungeon mates today.”

Every kobold, every beetle, every jelly, every Gary was staring at me. Kainhelm and Razensen were staring hardest of all.

“Kainhelm is also leaving us,” I said. “He is going to travel to Razensen’s homeland with him, where he will spend time seeing a different part of Xynnar. I’m sure you will all wish him the best.”

Kainhelm looked at me. “You poxing…you plaguing…” he said, struggling for words. “Thank you, core.”

“And thank you, Kainhelm. Good luck to you.”

I was content to stay over by the corner of the loot room then and watch my dungeon mates enjoy the farewell party. They’d earned the break, what with the battle of Jahn’s Row and the incessant clean up afterward. They needed a rest from it, a rest from everything that had happened.

I did too, and so I just stayed there and listened to them talk and laugh, and I enjoyed Brecht’s music as he played his tambourine and sang. Gary, still injured from the battle, could not play his lute, more’s the pity, but he lent his singing voice to the proceedings and sang about lovely things such as dead heroes caught in murderous traps.

As the party wore on, I heard a voice in my inner core.

“Dark Lord?”

I recognized the voice, though I hadn’t expected to hear it again.

No. It couldn’t be. I was hearing things.

“Dark Lord?”

The voice speaking to my inner core was Morphant. This was a trick. It must have been.

Another voice spoke now. An older voice that I recognized, but couldn’t place. “So I speak to the sprinklings of stone, you say?” said the voice.

I used my core vision, tuning it into the core shavings in Hogsfeate. I looked upon Sir Dullbright’s meeting room, where the furniture was covered in blood and there were corpses everywhere. Whatever had happened, it looked like they’d had a great time. They appeared to be dead guards. One, two, three, four…and Pvat, the head of the heroes’ guild.

Was this my birthday?

“Mage Hardere?” I said. “You seem to have been enjoying yourself.”

“Heavens above, this bloody thing works!” said Hardere. “Astounding. We mages have our ways of sending messages, of course, but nothing like this. Amazing.”

  “Amazing indeed. Things are starting to make a little more sense now that I’m hearing your voice,” I said. “You cast a spell to remove my control over my mimic, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

Hmm. This was strange. I’d expected him to deny it.

“What do you want?” I said.

“What if I said that I could give you control over the heroes’ guild in Hogsfeate?”

“The heroes’ guild would never follow a core. Why would I even want them to?”

“Think of what you could do, Core Beno. A dungeon core in control of a chapter of his enemies. I’m sure you are creative enough to imagine the uses you’d have for such power.”

“Even so,” I said, “They’d never follow me.”

“No. They follow Pvat, their elected leader. Only, poor Pvat had an accident involving his gut and a sword.”

“Was it you?”

“In a manner of speaking. Pvat is dead, but only in the same way poor Sir Dullbright is dead, but isn’t, at the same time.”

“Ah. Morphant has mimicked Pvat, and you control Morphant now.”

“Quite right, Beno. You’re clever, for a core.”

“What’s your price?” I said.

“Nothing you cannot pay. You just need to balance the scales a little. Let’s say if Dullbright were to leave Hogsfeate for good. The town would need a new mayor, no? I intend to win the election, and I am sure I could find ways to use your support in that.”

“And in return you’ll give Morphant back to me?”

“You’ll get your mimic back. You will control the heroes’ guild, and I will control the town. I’m sure we will enjoy working together.”

I only needed a second to think about it.

“We have a few things to work out, but I don’t see why not.”

“Splendid! Oh, and by the way. I have heard that my brother is peddling his wares in the wasteland. Offering to create storms and such like. You’d be well advised to have no dealings with him; he is a slippery bugger.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I said.

CHAPTER 27

Jahn’s Row was alive with activity as I floated across it. Yondersunians worked together with my kobolds who, overseen by Wylie, were cleaning debris and scrubbing blood stains from the streets. Core Jahn, sitting atop his pedestal, barked orders at a gaggle of workers and supervised the rebuilding of the shops and houses damaged by the battle, most of which came from the fight between Razensen and Nazenfyord.

I met Galatee and Reginal not in our usual meeting lodge, but instead in their own, personal lodge, where Reginal was sitting on a chair and Galatee was standing next to him. I had never been inside it before, and it gave me an inner view of the chiefs’ life together.

It was normal. Drearily normal. They even had little pieces of fabric stuffed with feathers that Reginal told me were called cushions. They served no purpose other than to be left on the couch and moved out of the way when somebody wanted to sit down. There was an easel with a half-finished painting in the corner of the room, though I couldn’t tell if it was Reginal’s or Galatee’s.

“What was the material cost of the battle, dear?” asked Reginal. “how much will it cost to fix up our town?”

“Devry has calculated as best he can, and…”

“My son was in charge of costing up the battle damage?”

“He’s the cleverest in