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

What had they gotten themselves into, pooling all their fortunes to buy Jahn and I? What was a dungeon core, if he didn’t fight heroes?

 “Warrane,” I said. “It seems your people might not be as educated about dungeon cores as I thought. Is that right?”

“This core talks of heroes and loot, and it confuses this leaf.”

Yep, that sold it. These people didn’t know much about cores at all, and they’d somehow pinned their hopes of salvation on us. Though salvation from what, I didn’t even want to think. The people that Warrane’s family left to join, yes, it had to be them. What did he call them? The Seekers? Who were they?

I was sure answers would come, but for now, I was left with a feeling of a massive weight resting on me and threatening to crush me. So many people, so much hope placed in a couple of failed dungeon cores.

Ever had the feeling you’re about to disappoint a whole society of people?

We had only walked a hundred or so feet into the wasteland when Galatee stopped. There was nothing here. No sign of growth, not even any insects. I had already shut off my sensations, because a great heat was coming from the sky, and the smell of sulfur swirled all around me.

Galatee kneeled against the ground and placed both her hands on it. Light washed from her palms, forming an orange rune of light that spread out in a circle. The light solidified, becoming a door. She pushed on it, and the door opened inward, into the ground.

Galatee led us on, walking through this door and then deep into the ground, to a sloping tunnel lit by mana torches. The deeper we went, the further into darkness we traveled, the more at home I felt. Yes, there’s nothing a dungeon core loves more than a stinking, black space buried way, way below the surface.

Soon, the tunnel widened more and more, until finally, it opened onto an enormous cavern.

Ah. Here was their home.

It was a sprawling cave hidden way below the surface, lit by enormous mana torches as big as houses fixed at various points in the cavern. There were hundreds of dwellings made from crystal-like materials of different colors, catching the torchlight like a prism and sending beautiful patterns of illumination across the space.

Bah.

Did I mention I’m a dungeon core? Beauty doesn’t appeal to us, I’m afraid.

This cavern was filled with people of all ages, races, genders. Here, at least, my suspicion was proved right. None of them wore their liquid metal suits in the cave, which suggested that the surface was deadly to them.

It meant I could see just what a multicultural society they were. I spotted orcs, dwarfs, merkins, humans. I even saw a group of kobolds pushing minecarts, which made me think of my kobold friends, Tomlin and Wylie.

Course, they were my creations, not friends. According to dungeon core rules, when a core made monsters from essence, they were just tools constructed to help part heroes from their lives. To me, though, the little kobolds were my friends, and we’d grown close. I missed Tomlin and Wylie.

“Bearers, bring your cores to the lightorium,” said Galatee.

“Yes, two-leaf Godwin.”

As Warrane carried me across this cavern city, it was hard to ignore the dozens of faces that looked my way, and it reminded me that I was a salvation of some sort to these people.

Galatee had mentioned that these guys had pooled their possessions to pay for me, and they had high hopes. They probably expected something from me that I just didn’t have; a kind of gravitas, I suppose. They would expect me to act all mysterious and powerful. Maybe I could play the part, and give them their money’s worth.

I addressed one orc male, who had two cute orc kids standing by his legs. “Yes, it is I, your core. May glory come to this fine settlement.”

“Shove it up your arse, gem,” said the orc. His children made a gesture with their fingers, which I guessed wasn’t a welcoming one.

Oh well. You can’t be friends with everyone.

The lightorium was the biggest structure in the city. Shaped like a sphere, and with a giant dome and crystal walls. On the inside, the dome seemed impossibly high, much higher than from the outside. I sensed the work of an artificer-builder, who were known to be able to craft illusions into their designs.

Streams of light spiraled up near the dome, illumination of different colors spinning in the air and forming shapes when they touched one another. A web of brown light met green and together they formed a tree, while silver and black met and transformed into a giant sword hanging above us. It was as though they were alive and playful, and there was a real sense of glee in the way they swirled, formed, melded.

Galatee stood under the dome. She took a small marble from an unseen pocket on her liquid suit. The marble was transparent and small enough for her to pinch between her index finger and thumb. She held it to her chest, and the marble began to draw the suit from her, almost sucking it off her body until the marble became pure silver, and Galatee stood before us uncovered.

Still wearing clothes, obviously. It’s better that I point this out right now. These people weren’t naturists or something.

When I’d hypothesized about their tree/leaf structure and what it meant, I’d guessed that Galatee being a second-leaf meant she was of an older generation, with first-leaf presumable being the eldest.

Don’t you just love being right? Not to gloat. I mean, I’m often wrong. But this time, I’d hit the mark.

Galatee was a gnome. A tall gnome, but her gnomeness was clear in her face. Craggy, yet feminine. Wrinkled, with wide, shining blue eyes. So blue that