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

by TJ Reynolds

  He used the same design to replace the door between the training hall and his core chamber.

  Next, Ban carved a tunnel off to the side with a ramp that sloped up in a wide sweeping arc from the training hall into what Ban had decided to call the study. This gave Kai more options to navigate through the dungeon.

  The study was the site of much more work that Ban had yet to complete.

  Yes, Ban had made some more books, and he was pleased with his progress, but books were not meant to be left lying about. As he offhandedly summoned two more minions for Kai to hack apart, the boy occasionally having to raise his voice to get Ban’s attention, the dungeon started cutting bookshelves directly into the stone wall itself.

  He could have formed wooden shelves, to be sure, but not only would they require more resources, he found the notion of bookshelves made of quartz crystal to fit the very essence of decor. He cut them out first, from the bedrock, then laid down a thin coating of crystal over the top when he was done. He would ask Kai to stack the books as he saw fit.

  Ban regarded himself a home maker, not a maid.

  As the hours drifted by, Ban slowly caught up with the ever-growing list of tasks he had set for himself. There was no way any Earth Core in their right mind could grow bored. The world was simply too full of possibility.

  For instance, had anyone ever fashioned an ether chandelier before? He did not know exactly what a chandelier looked like, but he had read of it in one of the books he had summoned, and the concept of suspending a series of lights from the ceiling appealed to his sensibilities greatly.

  Ban continued to lavish attention on the study, even extending one wall out a bit, and he realized distantly, that the more he worked on himself, the faster he got.

  His time with Yorick had been much less stimulating, in this way. He still loved his old master, but the dragon had limited Ban. He liked simple things and asked Ban only to create a few rooms and keep them cozy. Bah! Cozy was for the commoners!

  When the dungeon had finished enough in the study to make the young man fall over in surprise, something that was endlessly entertaining to Ban, he moved on to a more urgent matter. Up to this point, Ban had used the few creature designs he remembered from before his shivvering, and added a few of the skeletal ones he had gained during his recent excavations.

  Though it made him nervous, Ban did remember another way to make minions.

  The dungeon retained a small portion of his attention in the service of summoning the minions Kai needed for training, but the rest, he focused inwardly.

  His memory of the technique was so scattered, that when he focused his mind and mentally prompted his Monster Creation Interface to appear, he gasped when his perspective shifted.

  It worked!

  What worked? Kai shot back.

  Ban apologized, embarrassed he had not thought to shield his outburst, then gave the dragonling a rat, snake, and puppy to deal with. Chuckling at the sounds of struggle that ensued, Ban continued his dickering.

  He found himself looking into a rectangular space, suffused in ether blue. It appeared like the mental projection of a chamber, one which he could rotate at will. Along the left-hand side of his altered perspective, he saw a list of words.

  At the top was ‘Available Minion Designs’. Mentally nudging this option, a series of names ran down in a column. The minion types, including Monstrous Rat, Amethyst Viper, Sludge Hound, Small Chitterling, Greater Slug, Viscous Fire Slime, and more, surprised Ban to no end. He had a much larger repertoire of minions than he had realized.

  A few of the names were a faint gray. He tried selecting the Viscous Fire Slime and nothing happened. Changing his approach, Ban selected the Small Chitterling.

  The minion design chamber suddenly filled with a mass of legs and eyes. The chitterling appeared to be some kind of spider, but one that ignored any constraints regarding the proper number of legs.

  Ban counted at least sixteen, though it was hard to tell because the minion would not sit still. It had a long pair of pincers that protruded ahead of it as well. No way would he be letting his squishy dragonling face such a demon.

  More information was displayed above the minion when he had selected it. Its name was there, of course, but he could see this minion cost 25 AE, 20 BM, and 20 IM to summon. In every sense, the Chitterling was a very expensive minion to make.

  A series of boxes lined the top of the screen. From left to right, they read: Minion Name, Ether Cost, Material Cost, Affinity Blessing. The last box was empty, so Ban assumed that the Small Chitterling did not require an affinity blessing. He could not help but wonder, What is an Affinity Blessing? And…

  His mental question cut off as a scroll popped up in answer.

  How clever? Ban mused, and read the scroll.

  Affinity Blessing - Advanced and Mythic Minions require additional resources to craft, Affinity Blessings are among these. There are seven common Affinity Blessings: Water = Briga, Earth = Andag, Fire = Yugos, Air = Shu, Holy = Anlil, Abyss = Angut, Niama = Soul. In order to acquire an Affinity Blessing, the dungeon (or bonded dragon) must swear fealty to a chosen diety. Typically, only a single Affinity Blessing may be acquired.

  * The Affinity Blessing Menu is only available to dungeons upon Golden 1 ascension.

  Well, that’s a lot of fun and none at all, Ban muttered, and suppressed his desire to ascend immediately. Kai had a ways to go before he surpassed Ban at Amber 2. Only when Kai was ready to ascend to Golden 1, would the dungeon be able to increase in power.

  Ban’s mind spun with a combination of joy and anxiety. The sheer possibilities of creation seemed endless, but all the advanced options were locked. Patience would have to be the armor he wore while he waited for his bumbling master to advance.

  Returning to the main Monster Creation interface, he dismissed the revolting Small Chitterling and reviewed the rest of the screen.

  At the top, he again noticed Minion Creation Designs. Below this box, three other options were listed: Amalgamations, Champion, and Metamorphosis.

  Champion sounded interesting, so Ban selected it. A scroll popped up and warned him, Champion must be selected from existing Amalgamations!

  Acting on a hunch, Ban selected Metamorphosis and was not surprised when a similar message popped up: Metamorphosis is only available for existing Amalgamations or Champion!

  Having no other choice, Ban selected Amalgamations.

  A new image filled Ban’s perspective, and he studied it. Two small boxes hovered above a larger one, and when he read the labels above each and the list of options scrolling down the left-hand side of his viewpoint, Ban had an epiphany.

  Distantly, he heard Kai request another round of battle.

  Come on, I’m so close to leveling! the dragonling complained. What’s the deal?

  Ban pulled his attention from the hundreds of possible combinations that Amalgamations would enable him to create.

  Are you busy, Ban? Kai whined.

  Summoning two minions at random, Ban chuckled to himself in a way that was both creepy and filled with promise. Yes, he thought, I’m busy and will be for some time.

  17

  Charity Begins to Roam

  Rhona

  Traveling with a chain of unsettled horses had dramatically slowed Rhona’s progress. She stopped several times each day and ended well before dark to ensure that none of the beasts injured themselves.

  The countryside slowly changed, shifting from seemingly endless meadows and patches of woodland, to the sparse, rocky hills of the south.

  As she came to a particularly tall knoll on her third day after killing the bandits, the first evidence of real civilization came into view—the scattered smoke stacks and sprawling huts of a proper village. Though Rhona had passed several hamlets along the way, little more than three or four families clustered together for support, she had ridden straight through, wanting to deliver her bounty to a settlement that could better utilize it.

  If her map was
correct, this was the village of Orman’s Port, a bustling town that was busier than its relatively small population accounted for. It sat on a bluff above the ocean, commerce pouring in from the dock-lined port below. Rhona had never been to this part of Brintosh, nor had she ever seen the southern ocean, but many of her friends had told her tales of the place and its bars and brothels, the life of sea-faring men lending the city a predictable atmosphere.

  She’d also heard tell of an orphanage here, the proprietor of which was supposedly well acquainted with the surrounding countryside and the inner workings of Orman’s Port. Rhona would seek out the man, and not only relieve herself of her equestrian charges, but hopefully learn the location of another master of The Path of the Bleeding Tiger.

  Rhona dismounted and fed the horses the last of her food, a fond farewell to the beasts she’d grown attached to as well as nourish them before the final stretch. She ran her fingers through the mane of one of the mares, a blood bay who’d taken a liking to Honor and had therefore captured Rhona’s heart as well.

  Appraising the three horses, Rhona felt proud. Each stood a bit taller and stepped easier, despite three hard days’ travel. Riderless and moving at a moderate pace, the horses had recovered from their recent abuse. More noticeable was the gleam in their coats and the tangles that she’d unraveled from their manes. They were humble mounts, but beautiful, nonetheless. All such beasts deserved respect, and so Rhona found even more reason to feel justified in her treatment of the bandits.

  A breeze whispered against her neck and she smelled, if briefly, the wide expanse of the ocean.

  It called to her.

  Rhona mounted up and brought the chain of horses, tethered behind her in a line, to a quick trot.

  Orman’s Port disappeared behind the hills for a while, but before long, she’d crossed over another ribbon of hills and the town opened up below her. The sound of hawkers calling their wares and the bustle of goodwives and sailors hauling their goods up from the port surrounded Rhona as she led the horses deeper into town.

  Catching the arm of a boy who walked just a bit too close, Rhona pried the orphanage’s location from him. “R… round the way, miss,” he stammered. “Two doors down from the clock tower you see there. Can’t miss it. It’s the only shivving yellow building in town.”

  “Watch your tongue, young man, and thank you,” Rhona said, releasing the boy and handing him a copper. “For your time.”

  His eyes bulged, then he sprinted away into the crowd, no doubt in pursuit of some sweet he now had the coin for.

  Rhona eyed the clock tower as she made her way through the streets. It was taller than a settlement like this deserved, and intricately made. She could see the brass workings within sparkle in the sunlight, a work of the ancients then. Strange to find such anywhere but in the long-cast shadows of Creshon, she now knew that at least one nobleman called this place home.

  The garish exterior of the orphanage came into view, and she noted a few grubby children dicing near the front steps. She snapped her fingers and two of the brats ran away. The one who remained was a diminutive girl, small enough to fit in her pocket.

  “Come on! Now who am I gonna fleece?” she whined. “You up for dice, then?”

  Rhona laughed; the spine on the girl was commendable, but she had other plans. “A copper if you go and get me the master of this house. Another if you tell me the finest place to lodge my horses in town after.” Holding a finger up for suspense, she added, “A silver, if you show me to a vendor who isn’t likely to fleece me.”

  Her little eyes lit with greed, the girl jumped up, shoving the dice in her pocket to hold out her hand. Rhona ignored the filth coating it, and they shook. She couldn’t help but notice the similarities she shared with the girl, fierce despite being born in a body with limited strength, with a wild spirit to match.

  Rhona could respect that.

  The girl flitted away into the building, leaving Rhona in the street, her horses already finding stray weeds to nibble at growing up against the building.

  A man appeared a few moments later, his appearance far from what she’d expected. She’d pictured Father O’Donnahue to be old, portly, maybe even balding. Instead, the priest who came out the front door was stick-thin and barely older than she was. He walked down the steps and bowed. Catching her eye again, he introduced himself. “Good day, Miss. My name is Seth. What can I do for you?”

  Rhona was momentarily confused. “I’m sorry. Are you not Father O’Donnahue?”

  “Aye, but my given name works just as well.” He smiled.

  It was a good sign that the man was humble, so she skipped the niceties and told him her business. “I came from the capital. Only just a week ago I left the king’s service, honorably mind you, and will be seeking a different life. On my way here, I happened upon some bandits who thought my possessions were a simple means to increase their lot in life.” She hesitated, hoping to say the rest without coming across like the killer she was.

  Seth saved her the trouble. “And they didn’t fare so well in the exchange?” He gestured to the horses behind her. “All three, by my count, are food for daisies?”

  Rhona laughed, glad that the man wasn’t naive. “Yes, Father… Seth, that is. Yes, I didn’t want to, nor did I strike first, but none of that lot survived the encounter. I’ve come here to ask you if your orphanage might benefit from a donation. I have need of exactly one horse, you see. These are fine mounts. Their previous owners didn’t mind them well enough, but they are already well on their way to recovering. I’d think they could do someone well who needs a trusty horse, or else they might be sold by those in need, for a goodly amount of coin or supplies.”

  Seth’s brows lifted in honest surprise. “And so you thought of my fine establishment?”

  “Aye.” Rhona smiled. “Will you take them, or should I look elsewhere for their new caretakers?”

  The young priest shook his head, staring at his feet. When he looked back up, his eyes were filled with tears. “Thank you. I have twenty-three brats under my care. These horses will feed them for a year, at least. Not that we’ll be butchering them.” He held his hands up. “I’ll likely sell two and keep one for our needs. Thank you.”

  Rhona handed him the lead horse’s reins without ceremony. Seth took it and stared at the strap of leather, confounded. He spoke in a quiet tone, “Please, what is it I can do for you? I’d love to have you stay for supper, but I’m afraid it’ll be poor fare for a guest, only potatoes and clams.”

  She laughed and admitted, “Potatoes and clams are my favorite, sir. I’d love that. I might not be around though, at least I hope not. I have something to ask of you.” Rhona paused, the urgency of her request burning within her. What if the man couldn’t help her? Shoving doubt aside, she asked him plainly, “I was told there lives a master of The Path hereabouts. An old master who might teach me something, anything, of my chosen class.”

  “Goodness. You’re a monk then? That is well! Few choose to walk The Path these days. I hope you forgive me, but I mistook you for a common soldier on leave. Not because of your clothes, but in the way you move and speak.”

  “And I am… or was, at least. But I have turned my back on the blade and the bow. I wield no weapons now, though I still dream of holding them. But please, tell me that you can help.”

  The desperation in her voice may have embarrassed a lesser person, but Rhona had shed much of the vanity of pride.

  Seth smiled easily and bobbed his head. “You’re in luck. The old master is one of the few who still give to my cause. I’m not sure what else you have to do in town, but the day won’t last forever. If you wish to achieve this goal today, I suggest you leave. You’ll find the master in a sea cave, about a mile south of the port.”

  Rhona shook the man’s hand and then walked over to one of the gifted horses and patted its bulging saddlebag. “Thank you, Father O’Donnahue. Seems I’ll indeed be missing supper tonight. Within this satchel you’ll find an assor
tment of items I found on the bandits’ persons. These I wish distributed among those unfortunates in town. I trust you can disperse this second gift to any who might be in need. And don’t fret. My own purse won’t lack for coin any time soon.”

  Then, walking to retrieve Honor’s lead, she snapped her fingers once more, and shouted, “Girl! You want those coppers or no?”

  The scrawny child ran out and stared up at Rhona, confident in her abilities as a guide. “Name’s Conch, by the way. What’s yours?”

  With an arched eyebrow and a smirk, the ex-soldier replied, “You can call me Rhona. Now, Conch, show me to the only fair merchant in town.”

  Conch’s face grew serious, and she said in a tone of pure authority, “Miss Rhona, I’ll lead you to the fairest of the lot, but if you think any merchant is honest, I think you’ll be fleeced no matter what I do to help.” Then, shrugging, she fell into a cocky gait and said over her shoulder, “No matter. Long as you don’t spend my coin, doesn’t bother me one bit. Make sure to keep up though. As Father Seth always says, I’ve got the strongest legs in the orphanage.”

  Rhona met the father’s eyes once more and gave the man a nod. He smiled benignly, no longer crying but still in shock that his orphanage’s fortune had changed so drastically. Rhona turned to catch up to the sprig of a child who was already turning the next corner.

  18

  The Price of Pondering

  Rhona

  When Rhona left the girl near the merchant’s stall, her provisions refilled and horse tended to, she’d given the child three silver pennies. Conch’s eyes practically fell from her skull, and despite the many clever witticisms that had dropped from her lips as she led Rhona through town, the girl was left speechless.