The Guild Core: The Complete Saga Boxset: A LitRPG Dungeon Adventure

by TJ Reynolds

  Wanting nothing more than to become one of the Vermillion Guard, Rhona chose the Cavalry Class and the two most useful skills available at the time.

  Her career had picked up after, and soon she was placed into a special unit of soldiers training to move up to the elite Vermillion Guard. Their proving grounds moved away from the practice yard and into the battlefield. They deployed on dozens of short missions, carrying out the king’s business with great efficiency.

  It was on one such mission when she found her heart leading her elsewhere.

  After discussing her change of perspective with Palben, the man had introduced the concept of the Monk class to her. Few times in her life had Rhona been faced with as difficult a decision. The Monk class held great potential for power, but it was exclusive. Upon choosing it, she willingly gave up her other two classes and all the skills she’d fought to earn.

  Yet despite the sacrifice, she felt no regret.

  Letting the information dissolve in her mind’s eye, Rhona brought her focus back to the present and marveled at the beauty of the Brintoshi countryside.

  Just a few days ride out from Creshon, and she was surrounded by a sea of rolling hills and pristine forest. A grove of poplars bucked gently in the wind, looking almost like a school of fish recoiling from danger. Rhona thought of dismounting and feeding Honor another handful or two of radishes, but then she heard it, the clap of hooves on the gravel of the road behind her.

  Rhona reached forward to stroke Honor’s mane and whisper in his ear. Then, with the press of her heels to his sides, they were bolting ahead of their pursuers once more.

  This time, she held the warhorse back. Though the bandits’ mounts had the sleek look of thoroughbreds, she doubted they were full blood. Honor was a destrier, and if it came to a charge up a wooded slope or through the steel-clad ranks of an infantry company, he would easily outperform the other three. But this was a race over open land on an even road; he didn’t stand a chance.

  Rhona repressed every course of action her instincts and experience as a soldier cried out for. No, she wouldn’t set an ambush. No, she wouldn’t stop and wait until they slowed their approach only to charge in with Honor biting and kicking his way through their midst. Though both tactics would grant her a tactical advantage, they would also betray her new philosophy and fighting style.

  The first thing she would try would be an honest effort to outrun the bandits. She planned on giving Honor one more leg of abuse before committing to a fight. You never knew when a thug would choose convenience over effort if presented with a resistant mark. If they weren’t that prudent, Rhona would face them alone; she hoped, for their sake, that they had more than a little skill at arms. No, Rhona, she chastised herself. Let’s hope instead to avoid this mess. If you’re going to pretend to be a monk, start thinking like one!

  The sound of the approaching horses grew louder until, when stealing a glance around a bend in the road, she spotted them. Confirming that there were exactly three riders, Rhona spurred Honor into a gallop and pulled ahead. There was a chance, even a small one, that they’d be dissuaded from pursuing her. Avoid a fight if and when possible, Palben’s voice instructed in her mind.

  Yet if she had a single gold coin in this world, she’d bet the fight couldn’t be avoided.

  Though she couldn’t hear a thing over Honor’s pounding hooves, Rhona continued to check on her pursuers, and noticed that after another ten minutes, they were no longer visible behind her, even on a long stretch of road, unobscured by hill or tree line.

  She didn’t stop, just yet, but pushed Honor for another hour, noting the lengthening shadows. It would be dusk in another hour, and she needed to ensure she had either left the bandits behind or that the confrontation was good and done with.

  As she contemplated her next move, Rhona felt a jerk in the saddle as Honor turned an ankle. The injury was minor, yet there would be swelling, and the longer she ran him, the more it would slow her in the days to come.

  Thanking Briga that Honor hadn’t broken a leg or fallen, she pulled him back into a trot for a bit and then a stiff walk. Stopping immediately after such a run was foolish, so she walked her horse a bit more before pulling off to the side of the road.

  She dismounted and slung the watering skin over Honor’s nose; it was a handy design used by the cavalry on extended movements. They held just enough water to keep a horse going until one found a proper stream or spring. Rhona listened to the lap and burble of Honor as he drank the water in the skin, but kept one ear to the road.

  All was quiet, as she patted him down and set him to grazing in a patch of clover a few dozen feet off the side of the road.

  Rhona took a drink herself and leaned forward over her tired legs, letting the weight of her body stretch out her back and shoulders. It was her favorite stretch. The real name had been lost amid all the useless dribble of military life, but the troops called it the Dead Man stretch—short for Dead Man on the Balcony. The image the name conjured always made her giggle, despite how grim it was, as she pictured an unfortunate soldier, an arrow in his chest, hung over a balcony in death, yet not falling. He’d get one hell of a stretch, at least.

  Soon enough, the sound of hooves in the distance came at last. Rhona sighed, stood up, and stretched again side to side. It would come to a fight then; she preferred to be loose.

  Removing her cloak and riding gloves, Rhona set them down in a neat pile and walked to the edge of the road. Rather pissed that she would have to fight for her life because of the unscrupulous greed of common ruffians, she decided that rather than strike a pose, she would just keep stretching.

  Rhona was in a deep lunge, one leg bent under her while the other extended far out behind her, and enjoying the slow burn of her hip loosening from the day’s ride, when the bandits came in sight at last.

  She hailed them cordially and smiled. The odd sight made the three riders pull back hard on their reins, wary for some trickery or danger. Rhona only switched legs and waited for the inevitable to unfold. Sure enough, after the leader had whispered a few orders, the other two spread out to either side of the road, their poor horses blowing from the race and in full lather.

  They dismounted and began walking toward her position. None of them retrieved a bow, and Rhona thanked Andag for his kindness. If she’d had to face a ranged foe as well as two with swords, the outcome might have been more in doubt.

  Rhona could see the leader grimacing as he tried to figure out exactly what to say, so she took the initiative from him, employing her heaviest dregs accent. “Oy! A fine day finally ended, as they say. And what’re you gents about? Looking for a place to lie up for the night. Not sure about you, but it’s been a touch too nippy of late, so I’m dreaming of a right-thick hedge to lie under.”

  Her friend Hammel had been a dregs boy. Growing up in the bowels of Creshon, a mile deep down the twisted alleys of Old Town, he’d developed one of the finest dregs accents she’d ever heard. He’d learned a method of distracting an enemy. Hammel still used it, as she remembered from their sparring match before she’d left. He’d come out of the gate, all sweet and much too talkative, until his blade was already sailing through the air.

  Then he was a nightmare.

  The lead bandit cleared his throat, throwing a nervous glance over at the woman who walked toward Rhona’s opposite side. She must be his right hand, Rhona gathered, and tried not to laugh at their discomfort. No doubt, they’d pictured this going a lot differently.

  At last, the leader spoke, his tone clipped and just above a growl. “We’ll have your horse and equipment too, along with any coin you have, girl. If you go easy, we’ll let you walk back to town without injury—it’s not too far to do so, even without those fine boots.”

  Rhona feigned shock, standing up from her second stretch, and responded as cheekily as possible. “But then who will I tumble with? You think I’m stretching for fun? I was certain you lot wanted to have a good old-fashioned fight. I wouldn’t dream o
f disappointing you.”

  The man laughed, baring his teeth in a snarl. He was about to spit something venomous, when the woman called out, “Don’t be a fool, girl. This is what we have to do to keep food in our bellies. Just give it over and you can keep on living.”

  Rhona let her smile drop at last before answering, “Go shiv a goat, you bastards! You want to steal for a living, that’s your business, but don’t pretend you have to. Now let’s get this over with.”

  “Lester, handle it,” the leader snapped, and the tall man walked over, an unwieldy sword held like a club in both hands.

  The man swung ponderously at her neck, almost as if in slow motion, and Rhona marveled that the bandit hadn’t died in some scuffle before now. How slow can you be? she wondered, and realized that this man at least, was a much lower tier than she was, perhaps only a Crimson ascended.

  Not bothering to lift a hand, Rhona side-stepped the first attack, allowing the blade to graze her shoulder. The pain of the cut was nullified by Blood Sunder, a stream of ether trickling into her gut and begging for release.

  Feeling the hot trickle of blood down her arm, Rhona stepped forward. Lester had to use all his strength to slow the blade as it swung through the air unhindered. Seeing his first attack miss, he threw a hasty backhand slash at her face.

  This next attack, Rhona ducked under, and when she came up, she slapped her palm to Lester’s sternum and activated Etheric Sapping. More ether poured into her body, making her muscles thrum with power. The man groaned, his body drooping for a moment as the energy taken from him took its toll.

  Then she sunk her opposite fist into Lester’s chest with the force of a war hammer.

  She released the full store of ether Blood Sunder provided and it tore through the man’s body in a wave. Bones shattered and his heart stopped in response to the blast of power that shot from her hand. The man fell to the ground, staring up at her in silent horror.

  “What the hells? Lester! Lester, get up!” the woman cried, and the fearless leader growled.

  When Lester did not get up, the fight continued, though the other two were entirely more skilled than the big man had been. From the speed of his attacks, Rhona guessed the leader was ranked Golden 1, at least. The woman recovered from her shock and stalked forward, dual-wielding a pair of matching short swords. “Let’s kill her, Karn, I’m sick of seeing her breathe.”

  The pair had been fighting together for more than a little while. The woman came in first with darting attacks, and Karn swept in after, his long sword aiming to kill or dismember Rhona when she dodged the initial attacks.

  Rhona blocked the woman’s strikes with her unarmored forearms, welcoming the nicks and cuts she dealt out and relying on Wall of Stone to negate much of the damage. Meanwhile Rhona accumulated another pool of expendable ether by so doing.

  Karn’s attacks she avoided entirely. The man was not only fast and true in his aim, but the blade of his sword had begun to glow red, exuding the power of Yugos.

  He must be employing a Fire-enhanced skill, Rhona thought, and though this style had plenty of limitations and was as common as rocks in the Brintosh army, if an attack landed, she might never get a chance to counter.

  “Hold still, will ya?” Karn growled, his face contorted with rage as he swung wildly at her.

  The woman changed her tack and came in closer, no longer simply harassing but going in for the kill herself. She cut low, aiming at Rhona’s midriff, then spun, her second attack whipping out like an adder’s strike. The blade grazed Rhona’s cheek as she turned her head to dodge the brunt of it.

  Then in quick succession, Rhona jabbed the toe of one foot out, kicking the side of the woman’s knee and followed up with a hard kick to the thigh. The first blow spun her legs open, throwing her off balance.

  The second attack was ether-infused, and the snap of the woman’s femur resounded in the open air along the Earl’s Road. Rhona heard Honor nicker behind her, and Karn cursed as his companion fell in a heap beside him.

  Using some final skill, he stabbed out at Rhona, his sword blurring. He must have been hoping to end the struggle once and for all.

  Instead, she twisted sideways and stepped forward. The edge of Karn’s blade sliced the flesh above her ribs, sending fiery tendrils of pain lancing through her body. She countered with a fist into his belly, before striking up with her other palm, blasting his teeth into fragments, shattering his jaw, and snapping the base of his spine with the incredible impact.

  A pulse of blue ether shot out in a ring around the man’s fractured skull.

  “Shivving wench!” the woman howled and Rhona felt the blade of a sword cut through her thigh. It was a deep cut, perhaps mortal, so rather than use the pooled ether to lash out at the woman, Rhona stumbled back and pressed ether into the wound. It did not fully heal her but alleviated the wound enough to stop the spray of blood from a nicked artery.

  The remaining bandit screamed in frustration, her broken leg not allowing her any means of pursuit. Rhona considered just leaving the woman there, her own decisions dooming her either to death or prosecution by whatever noble or enforcer of the law happened by. Though slim, there was a chance that she would somehow manage to cause more trouble.

  Rhona sighed. That wouldn’t do.

  Rhona straightened from her defensive crouch and walked toward her foe. She dodged the clumsy attack aimed at her leg and kicked her foe in the chest. The woman fell back, her swords falling in the road. Rhona stood over her, reached down, and using just a sliver of ether, she plucked the artery on the right side of the woman’s neck. Palben had taught her how to do it just so. If you were gentle enough, the skin wouldn’t break, and the blood that burst free from the ruptured artery would flood under the skin in a massive bruise. Though morbid to look upon, it beat bathing in blood.

  The woman’s face went white with shock and terror as she died, her neck swelling a disgusting purple, bulging unnaturally from the internal wound.

  “I hope you rest well and return a better person,” Rhona said. “I’m sorry I had to do that, but it isn’t worth the risk of you hurting someone else.” She stood still, watching respectfully as the woman kicked and thrashed in the dirt, her final acts in this world.

  When the dust had settled, Rhona looted the bandits, finding a few cut purses, and a pile of weapons and valuables. She knew exactly what to do with these.

  Their clothing and gear she left with them. Taking anything else from the corpses would be disrespectful. But their horses were a different matter.

  Rhona pulled them together, keeping their reins in one hand while calling out to Honor.

  She walked all four horses down the road a ways, far enough away from the carnage so as not to disturb the souls of the recently departed.

  The bandits had a second chance now. They could pass on, be reborn as something more honorable. There was no reason to tempt their souls into haunting her or terrorizing the Brintoshi small folk along this stretch of road.

  Eventually, Rhona found the hedge she’d mentioned earlier, thick as a woodsman’s wife. The leaves beneath were dry and home to only a few insects. Smiling to herself for remaining on The Path, Rhona fell asleep, happy and justified.

  15

  Staves and Stones

  Kai

  Kai’s first battle with the snake had been something of a nightmare.

  It turned out to be poisonous and much faster than any noodle-shaped beast had any right to be. Still, after getting bit in the forearm, Kai managed to hack down through the snake’s neck, ending the fight rather unceremoniously.

  The trouble came shortly thereafter, when his arm began to swell and Kai noticed, quite alarmingly, that he couldn’t feel his face. Oh, Ban! Blasted beets, I think I’m poisoned!

  Ban fought to keep his own sense of panic down as he saw his dragon fall to a knee, his sword clattering to the ground. I just have to heal you; no trouble at all. Now let me see.

  Kai felt the Earth Core dickering a
bout inside his body for a time, and though he trusted the dungeon would keep his promise, it was hard to remain calm when his vision started fading and his muscles locked up, becoming cold and unmovable.

  Before he spent too long in that state, though, Kai regained his good health. Thank you, Ban. That wasn’t pleasant, but it was my fault. I’ll be certain to avoid being bitten next time.

  Though they’d just started training, it took Kai a long while until he regained full use of his limbs. When he was fully functional again and Ban re-summoned the snake, Kai dodged it instead of attacking, parrying the incoming fangs with his sword. In that way, he used the sword defensively while still causing the snake damage.

  It was a downhill fight from there.

  Following each kill, Kai felt the trickle of ether fill his core a bit at a time; each snake granted him four Progression. To think, less than a week ago, he thought rabbits were the finest source of Progression he could manage.

  Though the skill book had granted him immediate knowledge of the sword, it was still difficult to pull off some maneuvers he’d read about. His footwork was perhaps the most troublesome part, and Kai had to use every thread of his concentration to avoid falling.

  After an hour, Ban spoke up, suggesting they stop training for a bit. There are three other skill books waiting for you. You might want to read them all while you can, and then work on improving your skills with different weapons. You’ve done well so far, but, Kai, maybe the short sword isn’t the best weapon for you.

  Kai agreed, and after a snack of roasted snake, read a skill book that discussed the various tactics of fighting with a hammer and axe. Though the weapons had some things in common—both were two-handed, heavy, and relatively slow—there were many differences in how they were employed.

  For instance, Kai learned that war hammers were devastating weapons against almost any type of armor, including plate. One picture was so graphic and well-rendered that Kai slowed down in his skill-induced trance to stare at it. The breastplate of a knight would buckle inward, completely demolished, by the well-aimed blow of a war hammer.