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

“I told you, I’m not Maginhart’s father. That’s a really, incredibly weird thing to say, so please stop.”

“He’s close to passing his apprenticeship. When he does so, where he goes next is his choice. I’ll step back and let him decide. Until then, Beno, I am his master. If you want me to end his apprenticeship early, then just interfere again. I’ll take that as a signal that you do not want me to teach him anymore.”

Maginhart would be devasted if that happened. I knew how much all this meant to him.

At the same time, I was losing control.

Of Maginhart. The dungeon. Gary. Everything.

But maybe Cynthia was right. She knew what she was doing. I had to take a step back. Focus on other things.

“Fine,” I said. “But don’t refer to me as his father. Not even if you’re making some kind of weird comparison.”

“What is a father, if not he who creates someone?”

That made me think of the academy forgers. The people whose job was to resurrect a dead soul and fuse it into a core. If they were lucky, it resulted in a charismatic, clever, modest being like me.

Did that mean the forgers were my fathers? Just because they had certain skills and used them to perform a service? Nope. A father was a lot more than the guy who created something.

“This is making me uneasy. Let’s just agree to disagree.”

“Fine. What did you need?” she said.

“I have a job for you. We know that we can’t attack the insects, right? So what’s the opposite of attacking?”

“Getting attacked?”

“No… well, yes, technically. But that’s not what I had in mind. We can try to repel them.”

Cynthia fixed me a cunning stare. I almost wished she’d kept her goggles on. There was way too much wiliness in her ratbrid eyes. I didn’t know if that was a ratbrid thing, or just her. If she wasn’t on my side, I’d be worried.

“So you want to use someone as bait to attract the insects, but you also want to repel them? Ever heard the phrase, having your pie and cooking it?”

“Okay, maybe not repel. That’s the wrong word. Do you think you could come up with something that could subdue the insects without damaging them?”

“Ash Whiskers and I could experiment. Come up with a few things that might work. I always bring supplies with me,” she said, patting the satchel next to her. “But without an insect to test them on, it would be trial and error. I hate working on guesses. I hate it more than I hate people who order complicated cocktails in the tavern that take ages to make and hold up everyone else. Guessing is the antithesis of alchemy.”

“I thought the point of alchemy was to try new things?”

“No, Beno. It’s to make a hypothesis then test it. Not just start burning and mixing and hoping for the best. But given the circumstances, I’ll try. A problem occurs to me, though. Even if we subdue and capture an insect, how would we make it lead us to its nest?”

“That’s the thing. If they attack as a pack, I want to subdue all but one of them. I’m banking on the fact that if one insect sees the rest fall, it’ll go back to the nest for help.”

“At which point, you’ll follow it.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Let me see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Cynthia.”

“Let me ask you something,” she said.

“Go ahead.”

“Everyone is wondering the same thing. Who are you going to use as bait?”

This was my favorite part of the plan.

“Heroes,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“I have a mimic in Hogsfeate. You’ve heard of them, right?”

“Hogsfeate? Of course. I go there for supplies.”

“Mimics, I mean.”

“I am a lady of the world, Beno. I’ve seen more than you, I’d hypothesize.”

She wasn’t wrong there.

Since my resurrection, I’d been to the academy. Then to my first dungeon. After that, I’d come to the wasteland. That was all of the giant world of Xynnar that I’d seen. Any places I’d gone to when I was a man didn’t count since I couldn’t remember them. I didn’t see how it could count as traveling unless you remembered a place.

“Fine. So you know about mimics. Well, I have a mimic named Morphant. Right now, he’s taking the guise of a guy named Pvat, who is-”

“Head of the heroes’ guild,” said Cynthia. “Yes, I know him. As I said, I have to go to Hogsfeate from time to time. He’s an absolute prat.”

“They don’t call him Pvat the Prat for nothing.”

“Do they call him that?”

“It’s a name I made for him,” I said. “I was hoping it’d catch on.”

“I’ll certainly help spread it for you.”

“Thanks! But here’s the thing. Pvat is dead now - an absolute tragedy - and I have a mimic pretending to be him.”

Cynthia flashed me a grin. “You have a mimic acting as head of the heroes’ guild. Which makes you, a dungeon core, in charge of the heroes’ guild.”

“A core in charge of a bunch of heroes. And they don’t suspect a thing. Ingenious, right?”

“Mildly clever, yes. Let’s not go overboard.”

“I’ll have Morphant issue orders, as Pvat,” I said. “We’ll send a bunch of heroes into the wasteland. Send them out with a cart, get them to act like defenseless traders. If they journey far enough into the wasteland, they’re sure to get attacked by the insects.”

CHAPTER 14

Riston

Riston had just finished communicating with his master. Although it was exhausting, he found that talking using his mind was much cleaner than saying words. Words could be overheard. The sounds that made words could carry in the wrong direction, to the wrong set of ears. Then that person