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

chamber in my dungeon. It was like I was in a house and I was preparing for the king to visit, or something.

I checked all my traps, my puzzles, my monsters. I made sure the doors all locked and unlocked as they should. I even tested the riddle doors to make sure they had memorized their riddles. They were sleeping, and I had to wake the grouchy buggers up. Yep, everything was working.

Even so, this didn’t feel right. I didn’t have enough of anything. Enough traps, enough monsters.

To quell my nerves, I spent some essence creating four more fire beetles, as well as a bogbadug and a stone dwarf troll. I assigned these creatures to be warriors. This pushed me up to my monster limit of 11, but it made me feel a little more confident.

I then rechecked everything again and again.

I was putting it off, I knew. I was approaching the moment that is every dungeon core’s destiny to face, and I had always looked forward to it. Now that it was here, I felt a little worried. I began to think of all the things that might go wrong, all the little ways a party of heroes could outwit me.

Finally, I realized that I was acting like Tomlin, and I knew that I would have told Tomlin to get a hold of himself.

So, I got a hold of myself, and I went to the most northern room in my dungeon, where not so long ago I had placed the beartraps, pitfalls, and the trick looping tunnel.

This was it. The place where my dungeon would open to the heroic public. Time to craft an entrance to the dungeon, and from there, a signpost would be created above.

Tomlin, Wylie, and the fire beetles were with me now. I guessed they could sense the tension in me, because they stayed on the far side of the room, quiet and watchful. I was glad to have them there.

“I suppose you should dig out a slope to the surface, Wylie,” I said.

“Wylie dig! Tomlin too?”

“Yes, Tomlin will dig, too. Penance for being so rude to Gary.”

My friend folded his arms. “Tomlin was surprised, is all. He has already introduced self to Gary.”

I felt like I had been a little harsh on him lately, but I was only trying to make him braver. Managing creatures really was a balancing act.

“Thank you, Tomlin. You still need to dig. This is a momentous occasion, and it only feels right that we all take part. I will even use my core arms to dig some of the slope.”

“Dark Lord dig?” said Wylie.

“Yes, Dark Lord dig,” I replied. “I dug the very first tunnel in this place, I’ll have you know.”

My kobolds walked toward the assigned wall. Just as they reached it, something occurred to me.

“Hold on!” I said. “Our dungeon needs a name, does it not?”

“Name!” shouted Wylie.

“Let’s see. I already had a few ideas, but they didn’t grab me. There was just something missing…ah. I know what we should do.”

My kobold friends looked at me now, patient in their kobold way, and I was surprised to realize how much affection I felt towards them.

“We will each choose a word for our dungeon name, my friends. Because this is our dungeon, not just mine. It feels right that we’ll all name it. Yes?”

“Agree!” said Wylie.

“Tomlin thanks you. This feels like his home.”

I smiled at that. “Good. Our two eldest and most high-leveled fire beetles can name it, too. Beetles? Get over here!”

The level-four warrior fire beetles scuttled into the room.

“Okay,” I said. “I will give the first part of the name. Then Wylie, Tomlin, and the two beetles. Ready?”

“Ready!”

“Tomlin ready.”

“Here we go then. I now name this dungeon…The Whistling….”

“Gary!” said Wylie.

“Caverns,” said Tomlin.

“Fight!” “Kill,” said the beetles.

Oh, for demon’s sake. I’d really let myself in for it, hadn’t I? But I wasn’t a core who went back on his word.

“Very well. I name this place of terror, The Whistling Gary Caverns of Fight Kill.”

CHAPTER 26

“Hmm. The dungeon rune just lit up,” the barbarian said to himself.

The hero party was on the eastern outskirts of the town now, where they had set up their tents.

Most traveling hero parties stayed in taverns, but this party was a thrifty bunch. They never wasted gold, nor the opportunity to earn it. Besides, if a hero party couldn’t bear sleeping outdoors, how could they cope with a dungeon?

The barbarian had utter faith in his rogue, mage, and bard friends, but he wasn’t sure about the two brothers. Right now, the rogue was having a practice duel with Bill, the older brother, while the mage was in deep conversation with Lisle, the younger one.

The boys were greener than a frog’s arse, and their skills were way underdeveloped.

Even so, there was a glimmer of hope. Bill certainly knew the basics of swordplay, while Lisle could cast a fire spell. Sure, the resulting fireball was barely bigger than a plum, but it was something.

After talking to them a little, the barbarian had come to both like and pity them. They had once wanted to join the king’s army and the mage college, respectively, but their tale was one of woe.

The barbarian had heard lots of tales of woe. In fact, one prerequisite of earning your hero license was that you had suffered sufficient tragedy in your past. If you didn’t have it, you at least made up a sad-sounding backstory.

The boys’ story was all too sad, all too genuine…all too bog-standard, actually.

A father killed by bandits. A sick mother. The usual stuff.

He had to admit, though, that they had the makings of heroes. Perhaps conquering this dungeon would help them unlock their potential.

The barbarian stood up and