Dungeon Core Academy: Books 1-7 (A LitRPG Series)

by Alex Oakchest

  “I am Beno, the core of this dungeon. I live under various names. The Dark Lord, His Dark Magnificence, The Master of Darkness. You were created to serve as the boss monster in this dungeon, but I may have made a mistake. You appear to be nothing but a growth of talking mushrooms.”

  “Just mushrooms? Show him!”

  Something suddenly fell onto me then. It balanced on the tip of my core.

  A strange feeling shot through me, almost like an invisible arm reaching inside me. It became hard to think.

  And then the sensation left, and the thing on top of me rolled off and plopped onto the ground. It was a mushroom. Small, black, entirely unappetizing, even if I still had a desire for food.

  It smiled wide with its tiny little mouth. “I did it! I read his thoughts!”

  “Ah,” said a mushroom on the ceiling. “The knowledge has just come to me.”

  “Me too! He has a strange mind.”

  “Ha! Dark Magnificence? Dark Lord? He gave those nicknames to himself!”

  “He likes to pretend he is the Soul Bard! I saw it in his mind. He tried to hide it!”

  If I had cheeks, they would have reddened. As it was, I hid my minor embarrassment and focused on what was happening.

  One mushroom had somehow wrenched thoughts from me, and the others learned the same thoughts just seconds later. That was the power of the hivemind, I supposed. It meant this would be a good monster for gathering intelligence, but how could it ever stage a final battle?

  As if in answer, four more mushrooms dropped from the ceiling. When they hit the ground they began to grow, their forms stretching and molding until they became larger shapes.

  They would have been chest-height stood next to a man, and their figures were human-like in that they had two normal-proportioned arms and legs and they stood upright. It was only their faces that gave away what they really were.

  The four of them wore haunted expressions and had dead eyes, lacking in color and set deep in their sockets. No, they weren’t Dungeon Academy overseers.

  They looked like they had visited the shores of death but then had been washed back by the tide just when it was within reach. They were undead, and undead meant bone guys.

  Yet, they weren’t made of bone, or even of fungi. Their humanoid forms were made from ooze packed tightly together so that they wobbled when they walked.

  Two were glowing red, and heat emanated from them. The other pair was blue, and a chill was cast from their bodies. I understood now. I had seen aspects of the hive fungi and the undead bone guys, and now I could see where the angry elemental jelly cube had come into play.

  So, the mass of fungi growing on the melding room roof could not only read minds and spread that intelligence to the others, but they could form big slime shapes with undead characteristics and elemental damage.

  Not too shabby at all. Not when you think about what I could have ended up with. Stuff like a giant, bone-hard mushroom. Or tiny mushrooms made from jelly. Or even an undead mushroom that spat out blobs of jelly. Really, the melding room could make a mess of a monster if you were unlucky.

  Possibilities raced through my mind now. Perhaps this monster wasn’t so bad after all.

  The first fact that stuck out was that the four creatures that formed from the fungi hadn’t added to my total dungeon capacity. It meant an almost endless supply of creatures, right?

  I was rich! Rich with monsters! The mushrooms could drop off the ceiling and form something bigger, adding to my army.

  But then I noticed something. Each of the newly created forms was shorter than the last.

  I decided to try something. “Could you please for two more…uh...jelly men?”

  On command, two mushrooms dropped from the ceiling, and these were also shorter than the others.

  So, there was a drawback. It seemed that the more of the shapes they formed, the weaker they were. I wasn’t quite so rich. If the mushrooms kept dropping and taking different shapes, they would get smaller and smaller until soon, they were forming ones barely bigger than a mouse.

  Maybe their true power was elsewhere. There was something else I could try.

  “You. Fire jelly man. Follow me, please.”

  I quickly hopped to the pedestal in the core room. “This way,” I shouted.

  Soon, I heard squelching noises approaching. So, they weren’t going to offer much stealth, that was for sure. Before long, one of the red ooze men had joined me into the core room.

  He looked around, his dead eyes scanning the room. He opened his mouth to speak, making nothing but a slurping sound at first. Then he found his words.

  “The master needs me?” he said. The noise his gullet made was quite revolting, and it took a lot to disgust me. I usually love disgusting things.

  “I want to try something,” I said.

  Slurp. “I am ready.”

  “Could you stop this sound, maybe? It’s distracting.”

  Slurp. “I am sorry, but I cannot.”

  “Fine, we all have our flaws. Listen, there is a mage in the labyrinth. He has spells that cause ice damage.”

  “I should attack him?”

  “No. Wait here a second.”

  I hopped back into the melding room, where I heard the fungi chatting to each other.

  “He doesn’t like our slurping? Does he think he is the king of Xynnar or something?”

  “Shh! He’s back.”

  “A mage with ice damage. Nasty.”

  The chattering gradually died down as knowledge of my presence spread through the hivemind.

  “Make another ooze man,” I said.

  Again a mushroom fell, and a shape formed. This was the smallest one yet by at least an inch. But, it was colored red, and heat emanated from it.

  Aha.

  It was like I’d suspected. When I had told the last jelly guy about the ice mage, this information had gone straight to the hivemind, even though they were in different parts of the dungeon. Then, when they’d created a new jelly person he had fire damage, which was an elemental counter to ice.

  It was capable of spreading information from one part of the dungeon to another with barely any delay, and it could use that to tailor the ooze creatures to match the enemy.

  My new boss monster might not have been anywhere near as fearsome as Gary. It might not have had his delightful personality. But, it could be very, very deadly.

  “Dark Magnificence,” said a voice. It came to me through my core hearing, so I knew it was someone in another room.

  “Maginhart?” I said.

  “Your crystal dust is talking.”

  I felt anxious now. Anxious and excited. If the crystal dust was talking, it meant that my leech had made its way into the caverns, and to the meeting the Wrotuns were having.

  Now, it was time to listen to them all talking behind my back.

  CHAPTER 22

  In the alchemy chamber, I hovered on my pedestal with a pinch of communication crystal dust beneath me. It was hard to hear the voices at first, and even more difficult with Maginhart humming to myself. After asking him to leave, I was alone. I concentrated, and the sound became a little clearer.

  There were dozens of voices all chattering at once at first. The leech must have found his way into wherever they were holding the meeting. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to pick anything out.

  Then I heard something banging again and again. I recognized the sound because it was burned into my memory; it was Godwin’s staff.

  “Order! Order!” he shouted.

  The voices trailed off one by one. Some became whispers, but soon, all were silent. Even so far away in my dungeon, I sensed there was tension in the room.

  “I have called you all here for an important reason.”

  “Yeah, Second-Leaf Gumkin started charging more for her stew!” shouted a voice.

  There was muffled laughter before the banging of a staff stopped it.

  “Do you think this is a time for jokes?” thundered the
First-Leaf. “One of our own has died, and you laugh?”

  The tension doubled. I almost felt it cling to me, even in my core room. Godwin seemed to have the whole fill-people-with-dread effect down to perfection.

  “I am sorry,” he said, in a kinder tone. “I do not mean to call you all here to shout. I know that people grieve in different ways, and for some, laughter is a mask. But the Rushden family are here, and laughter is salt in their wounds.”

  There were murmurs now, but no more heckling.

  “The future of our people rests on what we decide here today, my fellow leaves. My family. My most beloved people.”

  Huh. I really heard the emotion in his voice now. Say what you will about Godwin, but I didn’t doubt that he cared for the rest of the Wrotun.

  “I want to hear your views. As you know, I try my best to foster an air of openness, and I like to think I am an amiable and approachable fellow. I only ask that you listen to me, first. To begin, I must acknowledge that I have made a mistake. And that mistake was purchasing our cores.”

  The room exploded into a chorus of murmurs now. I couldn’t pick one sentence out from the next, nor did I recognize any of those who were talking. But Godwin didn’t bang his staff now; instead, he waited for the noise to die of its own accord. It seemed that he knew how to read a room, but I guessed that came with hundreds of years of practice.

  “I am sure most of you know the details of what happened today, such as they are. We are still unsure of the particulars, and I have asked those who were present to refrain from discussing some of the more sensitive aspects.

  Yet, one thing can’t be denied, nor ignored. A cherished Wrotun leaf lost his life in the dungeon near the mana spring. The very dungeon guarded by Core Beno; the one supposed to make us safer.

  I know what some of you are thinking. It was my idea to pool our scant resources to purchase the cores. I even had to talk many of you around to my plans. I made promises to you. This is why, my dear ones, I must say something you won’t often hear from me; I have failed you.

  Entrusting me with your futures was a gift, and I have mistreated it. I did not mean to do so; you people are my life. But intention is a horse that sometimes unsaddles its rider. I had imagined that a core from the esteemed Dungeon Core Academy would ensure our safety for generations to come, but I fear the arrow we have shot has rebounded, planting itself in our chests.”

  He was silent then, giving them all the chance to comprehend his words. He really knew how to play a room for effect.

  I wished I could say that I didn’t believe what I was hearing from Godwin, but it didn’t come as a surprise. I knew that the First-Leaf had been up to something, with how quick he had been to point his staff at Gary.

  That had been an understandable reaction on its own, but when he had cast his spell to mute Gary, I knew he was up to something. Why mute him instead of letting me question him to find out what had happened?

  He had distrusted Jahn and me from the outset, which didn’t make any sense. Bringing us here was his idea, as he said himself. Why would he be so quick to blame me for this? Why hadn’t he even talked to me about it?

  “It is with a heavy heart, that I must make a recommendation,” said Godwin. “We have the Seekers to think about, yes. But to my mind, we have brought an even greater danger to our own doorstep, and we have opened the door and invited it in. Once in our home, it has begun to terrorize us.”

  Terrorize? I might be a dungeon core, but I mind my own business. All I cared about was killing heroes. And Seekers, since that was my job.

  But now I heard murmurs of agreement that sounded like they came from all sides of the room. This wasn’t going well for me.

  “My friends, my family. My fellow leaves, both longstanding and newly grown. I am a gnome who is here before you, admitting his faults and seeking to rectify them. Put simply; we will never be safe while the cores are here.

  We must remove them. We must tear them from their dungeons and cast them out.”

  A voice shouted now. “How can we ever be safe if they live, First-Leaf? Cores have wicked hearts. They will plot revenge.”

  “Ah. I had hoped to avoid more bloodshed. They are conscious beings, after all. You make a good point, Second-Leaf Rushden. We must not just remove them, but destroy them. I can do that.

  But mark my words; the cores are devious, clever, and dangerous. They will know of our intentions before we can get too close. We must gather in force and remove them. Bring them to me, and I will destroy them before your very eyes.”

  “What about their traps?” shouted a woman.

  “Galatee can command them to deactivate their traps. That small act of mercy is allowed to us, at any rate. We will not lose more lives destroying these foul beings.”

  “Then why do we need a force?”

  “Because,” said Godwin, “A first-leaf who makes a mistake and learns, is perhaps forgivable. One who refuses to accept his warning is no better than the cores themselves.”

  I knew one thing then. Destroying me had always been Godwin’s purpose for the meeting. He had maneuvered his people so that one of them actually suggested it, but that had been his whole plan.

  Why? That was what I didn’t understand. They had brought me here; I hadn’t asked to come. What did Godwin have against me? Had I accidentally killed his cat or something?

  One thing I knew for sure; it wasn’t about the dead Rushden boy.

  In fact, I was beginning to suspect that Godwin and his spells had played a part in the boy’s demise. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine that a mage could cast a spell that worked its way through the dungeon, without the mage himself having to move.

  I might have my suspicions, but I wouldn’t know for sure. In any case, it didn’t matter now.

  I needed to forget hows and whys. I needed to do what I did best.

  Someone was coming to destroy me. They sure as hell weren’t heroes, but I would make sure they died like them.

  Just to be clear, I don’t mean they will die honorably. I mean that I’ll slaughter the hell out of them.

  CHAPTER 23

  By the time First-Leaf Godwin reached his quarters, he felt like his head was going to explode. The pain was the worst he’d felt in decades. He staggered inside and shut the door. A scream built in his chest, but he held it in.

  He began to whimper. He couldn’t help it, the pain was just too intense. His cat approached him, but he couldn’t stop to greet him. He staggered through the quarters and to his bedchamber.

  There, he picked up one of his feathered pillows, put it to his face, and he finally let loose the shriek of pain.

  The pillow absorbed the noise. Some leaked out, and his concerned cat leaped on the bed now, but Godwin carried on screaming until his lungs ached and he couldn’t even force a whimper from his throat.

  Then he slumped onto the bed, exhausted.

  How long would this go on for? It had been almost a year since he’d last partaken in mana from the spring. A year without it, and his body still cried out for it. As far as he knew he was the only adult who wasn’t drinking or bathing from the spring.

  And yet, a full year had passed, and he missed it with an intensity he’d never felt about anything else. It shamed him to say that he didn’t even miss his dear wife this much. Logically, he did, but physically his body begged him for mana.

  The worst thing was that without it, he felt himself dying. He’d taken too much of it over the years, and the effect was irreversible. It had extended his life beyond what should have been possible, and without his crutch, his life was slipping.

  This was why they had to leave. The mana springs would be the end of them all if they stayed. If they left, they still had a chance.

  The babes and children would learn to live without it. Small mercy at least that they weren’t given their first taste of mana until they reached adulthood. Even the third and fourth leaves hadn’t been on it long enough for an incurable addiction.

&nb
sp; But Godwin? His life was gone. He only hoped he could give what little he had left to save his people. The only way to do that was to get far, far away from the mana springs.

  He felt something furry settle on his hand, looking for warmth.

  “We’re almost there,” said Godwin.

  He heard a purr in response.

  “If we destroy the cores, they will have no choice but to leave this place. I couldn’t persuade them to leave the springs behind, so I had to deceive them. I just have to hope that with the cores gone, they see how impossible it will be to defend against the Seekers. Then we will have to go.”

  A mighty coughing fit overtook him then, so Godwin let it all out, and after that, he closed his eyes.

  CHAPTER 24

  I let out a big laugh. The kind that, if I had a body, you’d class as a belly laugh. I couldn’t help it, and I didn’t even try to hide it.

  Yeah, I should have been worried, but instead, I was laughing. They thought they could destroy me. Really? A bunch of cave dwellers who had spent their lives suckling on mana. They thought they could destroy the very core they bought to protect them.

  I guessed that the main fallacy in this was their belief that Galatee could order me to disarm my traps. There’s no such order, no rule that says that should happen. I was the one who told her that, and she’d told the First-Leaf in turn. They were operating under a misapprehension that would get them killed.

  And I’d be the one to make sure that happened. It was time to rig this dungeon up with more traps than a cheesemaker’s shop floor during mouse breeding season.

  This time, I needed to change my focus. My enemies would come from the west, from the direction of the caves, and they’d know the route to my core room.

  I wondered how much time I had left. I guessed it’d take them a couple of hours. That meant it was safer to bank on one hour.

  Using my core voice, I gave a command. “Everyone to the loot room.”