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

It was a rather pathetic monster and only cost me 100 essence points. In most fights, it wouldn’t have a chance.

However, I knew that my opponent was going to use a shaman with a sunlight totem. That was the key.

The round began. Immediately, the kobold shaman planted a totem. Meanwhile, the fire imp skirted around the arena, no doubt, aiming for a backstab attack of some sort.

Mana drenched sunlight fired out from the totem and poured over my shrub bandit. But rather than damage it, the sunlight reacted with a potion I had asked Maginhart to provide and spread over the shrub. It robbed the sunlight of any damage but kept its potency.

Using the process of rapid photosynthesis, the shrub absorbed the nourishment of the sunlight, instantly growing bigger and tougher. Its barbs and thorns grew to the size of a man’s hand.

The imp charged at it from behind. What it failed to recognize was that there is no ‘behind’ when it comes to a shrub. It could launch its thorns in any direction.

One thorn flew from amidst the bushes and pierced the imp’s stomach, sending it flying back. It landed on its back on the ground, bringing a cheer from the crowd.

Not done yet, the shrub fired a volley of thorns at the shaman. As a primarily magic-based creature, the shaman had no defense. He squeaked as five thorns peppered him, smashing the creature across the arena and pinning him against the wall.

The announcer waddled into the middle of the arena, his coattails trailing along the dust.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, with surprise in his voice. “The winner of round two is… Core Beno, of Beno and Jahn’s Dungeon Core Academy!”

I made sure to remember those words, the declaration of the first round our academy had won. I’d need them ready for savoring when times were tough.

Cheers rose from some parts of the arena, but not all. I watched with satisfaction as a few of the spectators turned their placards around so that the Academy of the Raised Arrow emblems were hidden, and a blank one was in its place.

In the dungeon, before round three, I once again gathered everyone in the core chamber. The air was tense. No doubt everyone was wondering what was going on, and why I had told a different plan to each of them.

“Bolton? Gulliver?” I said.

They looked at me.

“Grab hold of Shadow and bind her up,” I said.

Shadow stood up, but Bolton grabbed her straight away.

“What’s going on?” said Eric the barbarian. He drew his sword and flung his glorious hair back and settled into a fighting stance.

“Settle down,” I said. “This isn’t Shadow. It’s a mimic. I should have known, but it is a very good mimic. When we sent Shadow to sneak into the Raised Arrow Academy and spy on them, they must have caught her and sent back a mimic in her place.”

Nobody said anything for a moment. Gulliver was the first to speak. “I suppose Gill is owed an apology, is he not?”

“Let’s focus on the fight, and apologies can come afterward. Eric? I want you to head over to the Raised Arrow and get Shadow. For the rest of us, it’s 1-1. The winner of the next round takes it all.”

The third round was deceptively simple. It turned out that when the core from the Academy of the Raised Arrow didn’t have a mimic feeding him my plans, he wasn’t very bright.

Although his academy was much bigger than mine, as a core, he was many levels below me. As well as that, he had very little real battle experience. As I had found out the first time I left the academy, what you learned in theory was much different when put into practice.

I defeated him handily in the third round and enjoyed the announcer declaring me the victor.

Not only that, but several more of the spectators turned their placards around to show the blank side. This meant there were around twelve in total. I wasn’t exactly adored among the supporters, but at least it was something.

Chapter 18

While some of the crowd checked their tournament programs and left the arena to find other fights, tournament officials pulled three podiums into the center of the arena. Each had something on top, covered by black sheets.

The announcer pranced in front of them like a magician displaying a new trick.

“Ladies and gentlemen. As the winner of this fight, Core Beno may choose a Revered Trinket as a reward.”

There was a hush as I floated to the middle of the arena. I waited patiently for one of the tournament officials to realize that I was a core, and as such couldn’t remove the sheets from the rewards. Seeing no sign of activity, I gave a polite cough. When this didn’t work, I realized I had probably used up my reservoir of politeness for the rest of the tournament.

“Will one of you nitwits remove the sheets, please?”

They did so, uncovering the three Revered Trinkets.

“Remember, you can choose only one,” said the announcer.

The first object was a model of a small yacht with a single canvas sail. It was stuffed into a glass bottle. A card beneath the yacht gave a further description.

Yacht in a bottle.

On command, this tiny yacht will leave the bottle and become a full-sized sailing yacht. 

Wow. I wasn’t a fan of open water. I was a gemstone, and stones tended to sink in the sea. But a yacht that could be carried everywhere? The magic woven into such construction must have been worth a fortune. Was this really a reward for round one? What prizes awaited in later rounds? My desire to get deeper into the tournament multiplied.

The second reward was something called a Liecatcher’s Net. It resembled the thick rope nets you