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

room, I saw Reginal with his back to me, shoulders sagging, staring out of the window. His half-finished painting was out of the frame. He’d snapped it in two.

There were even more guards on the streets. Must have been twenty of them surrounding the house. Half of them had core whips. That said a lot about how serious they were; core whips were expensive, and they were one-use weapons. As soon as they hit me with one, the whip was useless. They weren’t taking chances.

I just needed to buy a little more time.

“Where are my new digs?”

I said. “Somewhere nice, I hope?”

 Warrane pointed. Far away from town, maybe a quarter of a mile, was a giant glass box. I could tell it was glass from the way the sunlight hit it. The floor was made of metal. Steel, probably.

That would be my cell, and it was a good solution. The glass would mean they could see me at all times, and they’d probably forged it with some kind of alchemic solution to stop my core senses working. Being on the surface, I wouldn’t be able to use my powers. The second they put me in there, I was screwed.

“This one is sorry,” said Warrane.

I wished I could tell him his apology wasn’t necessary. That right now, his mind wasn’t his own.

The truth was, I was pissed.

“Sorry,” he said again.

He dropped his core whip and pulled out his sword.

He smacked the guard nearest to me over the head, sending him stumbling into the wall. Before the guard next to him could react, he kneed him in the balls and punched him in the face, knocking him onto his back.

“I think you just lost your job, Warrane,” I said.

“The pay wasn’t worth it.”

The other guards wised up to the fact that Warrane had betrayed them. They sheathed their core whips and drew their swords.

I barely had a second to think.

All I could think was that Riston must not have had control over Warrane.

And that even so, we were screwed. There were still more than twenty guards.

Luckily, I hadn’t come to the meeting with Galatee completely unprepared for treachery. I’m a core, after all. It’s in my nature to expect the worst of people and plan accordingly. It’s pretty easy to do. I’m a terrible person. I just imagine what I would do in any situation, and then pretend my enemy is going to do it.

“Jahn? Cynthia? Maginhart?” I said.

Cynthia the tinker appeared from the side of the tool supply store on the end of the street. Maginhart walked behind her, his claws raking on the dirt.

Sunlight reflected off Cynthia’s tinker goggles. They hid her ratbrid eyes, usually full of shrewdness and cunning, but today taking protection from the sun. Beads of sweat lined her whiskered snout. I hated the sun more than anyone, but I pitied furry beings like her. Yondersun was an unforgiving place for those with masses of hair.

There was something strange about Cynthia today. It was her smell. Metallic, almost. Or maybe not metallic. A little like the air after a thunderstorm. Anyone without amplified core smell wouldn’t pick up on it, but I did.

Given my background in using mimics, I considered the idea that a mimic was at work here. But it couldn’t be. Even if a mimic’s tell is their smell, it was nothing like the one coming off Cynthia.

Hmm. Something to look into, but not right now.

“Is Jahn with you?” I said.

“Yesss,” said Maginhart.

He opened a satchel by his waist and took a core out of it. It was orange and shaped like an overweight star. Dungeon cores don’t have faces, but our aura can project outwards sometimes. Any self-respecting dungeon core likes to portray a smoldering malevolence, but Jahn was different. His aura was cheerful. Happy. Fluffy puppies and rainbows.

If he weren’t a good friend of mine, it would have sickened me to my core.

“Really, Maginhart?” I said. “You kept Jahn in your bag? Show a little respect! He’s a core.”

“Hess’s heavy, Dark Lord. My bag isss artificed ssso I do not feel the weight.”

“Lay off Ash Whiskers,” said Cynthia.

“Ash Whiskers?”

“That’s my name for Maginhart. After he burned himself the first time he tried to use my burner.”

“Beno! I can’t believe all this,” Jahn said. “Riston. Gary. The wraiths. Riston…Gary…the wraiths…Riston…Gary…”

“Focus, Jahn. We need to get back to the dungeon. Hold them off.”

Twenty-something guards charged at us in groups of threes. In every trio, one had a sword, another a shield, and the third had a core whip. They weren’t taking chances. They were expecting me to attack them, but I couldn’t use essence on the surface.

Jahn, however, could. One problem with that…Jahn was hopeless at anything combat-related. So earlier, when we discussed our plan, we’d decided on something else.

Core Jahn channeled essence. Every non-core in the area would have been oblivious, but cores always know when essence is being used. I felt it. I smelled it.

Four big, steel walls sprouted up from the ground. They rose until they were twenty feet tall, fencing the guards in.

We heard them talk worriedly. Then their swords dinked on the metal as they tried to pound their way free.

 A great crash came from our west, away from town. The cell building that housed Shadow and Eric had completely crumbled.

I had a pretty good idea of what had happened.

Wylie and his team were expert miners. But they had to dig their tunnels carefully. Keep the structure intact. Today, I’d given them hardly any time to work. So, when they tunneled under the cell block, they must have made it cave in.

Oh well. It could have used a renovation anyway.

At least Eric and Shadow were free.

“Everyone back to the dungeon,” I said.

CHAPTER 10