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

by Alex Oakchest

  CHAPTER 2

  The heroes entered my dungeon for the sixth time, twirling their swords in their hands and chatting as if they were on their way to a tavern. As much as their nonchalance made me want to throttle them, I understood it. If I had beaten my enemy five times, I wouldn’t be worried about our next meeting.

  I watched them make their way through chambers and tunnels. There wasn’t a creature in sight, and not a single trap laid to stop them aside from the ones they had already spotted in previous dungeon raids, and they avoided them with ease.

  Approaching a riddle door, the poor door had barely opened its mouth to ask for a riddle, when Cael blurted, “A man. The answer is a man.”

  They jumped over hidden pitfalls and deftly walked around pressure switch tiles, laying not a hand on their swords the whole time. It was after thirty minutes of walking that Cael stopped. His younger brothers followed suit.

  “Hello?” Cael called out. “Core Beno?”

  “Good morning, Cael!” I said. “Nice to see you again.”

  He looked around as if he expected me to be floating above his head. “You should get out a little more, Core. Experience the world outside your dungeon. It isn’t morning but evening, and a lovely one at that. My brothers and I thought we’d collect more of your loot. If we’re quick, we might sell it in time for happy hour at the Scorched Scorpion. The innkeeper brews a cracking ale.”

  “By a desert hellhole’s standards,” added the youngest brother.

  “Well, come in, come in,” I said in my most welcoming voice, trying not to betray my eagerness to slaughter them. A dungeon core isn’t supposed to show excitement. “Your loot is waiting for you.”

  The youngest brother nudged Cael. “Something’s not right about this. I sense danger.”

  “You’re in a dungeon. What else did you expect?”

  “He’s trying to trick us.”

  “Of course he is! I’d be offended if he wasn’t. Now keep quiet. Remember; he can hear everything we say.”

  They wormed their way deeper into my lair, traveling south through passageways laced with spiked pitfalls and rusted bear traps. Parts were wide enough for them to walk in a row, while other tunnels grew tight enough that they went single-file, the youngest going first to detect and disarm traps.

  Though they wisely kept their swords handy, they didn’t encounter a single one of my creatures as they traversed the twists and turns of my tomb, threading their way deeper into the heart of darkness.

  Finally, they reached the center of my dungeon. Standing in one of the loot room archways, Cael put his hand up, palm outwards. His brothers paused behind him.

  “You best make sure we’re safe from traps,” he said.

  The youngest brother walked slowly around the loot room, stopping every few steps and checking for traps on the ground, the ceiling, and even in the air. Finding nothing, he beckoned the other two over.

  “We’re clear,” he hissed, still not grasping the fact that I could hear everything they said no matter how much they whispered.

  They crossed into the center of the room, where I had left them a gift.

  In my core room, I heard Tomlin making a racket behind me.

  “Do you have to do that so loudly?” I said.

  “Do what, Dark Lord?”

  “Whatever it is you’re doing.”

  “Breathing, Dark Lord?”

  “Yes! For the love of all demons, Tomlin, do it quietly.”

  “Is Dark Lord feeling tense?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “It’s just that if this fails, I’m out of options. I’ll have to admit that I’m not strong enough as a core.”

  “Tomlin thinks this is the last time we will fight the Pickerings.”

  “A decidedly vague response. Call me suspicious, but that sounds like you have your arse planted firmly on the fence, Tomlin.”

  The kobold didn’t answer me.

  “Damn you,” I said, and turned my attention back to the heroes.

  In the loot room, Cael sheathed his sword and crossed his arms. “This seems suspicious,” he said.

  I couldn’t argue with that. The three brothers were staring at a chest brimming with trinkets. Shiny treasures made of gold, silver, diamond. Heirloom plates, old family crests, vases, goblets, daggers, jewelry. It was a haul that would make most adventurers salivate.

  It was mostly fake, of course. I wasn’t rich enough to fill my loot chest with real antiques made from gold, especially after suffering five defeats in a row. I had asked Cynthia, the Yondersun tinker, to apply a gold finish to some cheap iron trinkets. Right now, that didn’t matter. The heroes weren’t going to spend time evaluating the authenticity of each item whilst in my dungeon.

  Cael’s youngest brother eyed the chest with suspicion. “No monsters to fight, Cael? A few traps, sure, but no beasts? It’s like he’s giving us all the treasure for naught. Seems funny to me.”

  “Mebbe he feels bad for forgetting Cael’s birthday,” said the older brother.

  “He’s left us a note,” said Cael. “How polite. Awful handwriting, though.”

  “What does it say?”

  Cael read the note I’d had Tomlin write for him. “Let’s see…the core says he’s giving up. He wants us to take this treasure and leave his dungeon, on the condition that we never come back.”

  “Wow! We really wore him down! I’ve never heard of a core being so demoralized.”

  “I almost feel bad for him,” added the other brother.

  Cael didn’t try to suppress his smile. “Wait until the guild hears about this, lads. A dungeon core so scared of heroes that it gives up all its gold! Whoever heard of something like that?”

  He tipped his head back and laughed, and when his brothers joined him, the loot room filled with the guffawing of heroes. The sound was like a knife twisting in my mind, cutting the strings that held back my anger and snapping them one by one.

  Keep calm, I told myself. Let them have their moment, because it’s going to be their last.

  The brothers filled their satchels with all the trinkets from the chest. As I’d already guessed, their satchels were magically altered to hold more than they should have been able to, allowing them to make off with a haul of glittering rewards that would ordinarily have been way too heavy to carry. My plan hinged on this very fact.

  Happily chatting amongst themselves, they made their way out of the loot room and north through my dungeon, toward the exit. Having already swept for traps on the way down, they took a more relaxed approach to their return journey.

  “Where we gonna go next, Cael? Now that we’ve drained this dungeon dry an’ all that.”

  “Oxfitz, maybe? It’s the Oxfitz Mage parade soon, and you know what those sorceresses are like, eh? Then again, Ratty Marmaduke said that a new dungeon just opened in Briarbutt. Might be worth a visit. New cores are so eager to attract us that they fill their loot chests with the best-”

  Click.

  The sound that no adventurer wants to hear in a dungeon, but a sound that dungeon cores like me absolutely love. Forget rain drumming down a window on a winter’s day. Forget birdsong in a spring vale. I could listen to the clicking of traps all day.

  “Shit,” said one brother.

  “Bugger,” said another.

  Only Cael had anything useful to say. “Nobody move!”

  The brothers were silent, looking this way and that to see what horrible outcome the trap would bring.

  “Damn it. I told you to clear our way! How did you miss this?” said Cael.

  “I missed nothing! This is a new trap.”

  “You’re saying the core placed new traps while we were in the loot room?”

  “It’s the only explanation.”

  “Aye. That, or you’re about as much use as a glass battle axe.”

  “Hey, now! You’re the one who…”

  I watched the brothers bicker with each other, feeling quite pleased with myself. After a while, I thought it was on
ly fair that I break the silence.

  “You shouldn’t be so harsh on your brother, Cael,” I said. “He’s right; the trap wasn’t there before.”

  They stopped talking.

  Cael was the first to answer me. “Well done, core. You tricked us. What is it, a pressure plate? You’ve already seen how I handle them.”

  “I have. As a matter of fact, it was your clever display that gave me an idea.”

  “Glad to be of service. Now, shut up and let me speak to my brothers. The Scorched Scorpion is calling my name, and I’m incredibly bored with this place.”

  “You won’t be bored for long, I promise you,” I said.

  A loud creaking sound came from the end of the passageway, signaling the opening of a hatch in the ceiling. The hatch was new, of course, and the hinges weren’t anywhere near old enough to produce such a loud creaking sound. That was done purely for effect. I would never let it be said that I don’t have any flair.

  Following the sound of creaking hinges emerged a giant boulder taller than Cael and five times wider. It crashed into the tunnel with such force that the whole dungeon shook, and dust fell from the ceiling. The rock began to roll toward the heroes.

  “There’s our trap!” called the youngest hero.

  Cael didn’t look as worried as he should have been. “Well don’t panic, for gods’ sake. It’s a standard rolling boulder. Boring. Cliché, in fact. Come on now, core, did you really think we can’t outrun a boulder? We’re dungeoneers! We’ve outrun more boulders than you’ve had breakfasts.”

  The brothers, intent on fleeing from the boulder, set off down the tunnel, heading back to the loot room. No doubt they planned to reach the loot chamber, let the boulder tumble safely by, then go their merry way.

  But they only took one step down the tunnel before their plans went awry.

  The youngest hero lurched, losing balance and falling onto the ground, smashing his nose. His elder brother almost lost balance too, staggering around, his back bent under a great weight.

  “It’s the loot! The loot!” shouted one brother. “It’s getting heavier! What in all hells?”

  Finally, Cael felt it, and the look of surprise on his face was delicious. The suddenness of the feeling of added mass was enough to make him trip up. He put his hands out as he hit the ground, sparing his face but grunting at the pain in his wrists.

  Straining with effort, he unhooked his satchel strap from his shoulder.

  “What’s this now?” he said, abandoning his loot sack.

  The giant boulder rolled toward them, the sound deafening. Cael was the first to his feet. He dashed to his brothers and tried to help them as the boulder loomed ever closer, struggling frantically to unhook their satchels from their shoulders and get them to their feet.

  “Up! Run!” he shouted. “Come on! Come on, for gods’ sake!”

  But the boulder was picking up speed. His younger brother was unconscious, and the elder had twisted his ankle. Though he tried to run, he winced with every step.

  In that second, with a giant boulder rolling their way, the brothers’ fates unlinked. They adopted a mindset almost every person takes when faced with death; survival of the fittest.

  Cael made it to the loot room before his brothers, and there he collapsed onto his knees and took deep breaths.

  “Gods,” he said, his voice hoarse. “The core tricked us…”

  A scream of agony echoed out from the passageway, joined by another. Two voices squealing inhumanely, only for the sound to be silenced seconds later with a dull splat.

  The boulder rolled to the end of the passageway, where it came to a stop at the entrance to the loot room and wedged itself in the archway, completely blocking it. The side of the boulder facing Cael was covered in blood and bits of flesh.

  Cael’s face was a picture as the truth dawned on him. The color left his cheeks, and his breaths were ragged.

  I gave a great, throaty laugh. One that I had practiced over and over for occasions such as this.

  “It was your little trick with the stones and the pressure plate,” I said. “Your stones were magically altered so that you could carry them easily, even though they weigh as much as you. It meant they could trick my pressure plate, and yet were light enough to haul around. Yes, it was a good trick. Maybe too good, because it got me thinking that the opposite might be just as fun, too. Those trinkets you took from my chest?”

  Cael heaved until there was nothing left inside him. I patiently waited for him to finish.

  “I had a tinker mess with the loot. You’ll like this, Cael. You see, first, she used artificery to make the loot weigh ten times more than it should. More than even the greediest of heroes could carry. After that, she used a temporary finishing solution to make them weigh ten times less. After all, I needed you to be able to walk out of my loot room with the treasure in your bag. And when the boulder emerged, the solution wore off, and you found that it is difficult to run with the equivalent of twenty cannonballs in your bag. Isn’t it fun, playing with the rules of nature? There’s a lesson here, Cael. Don’t be greedy.”

  Cael’s face twisted in fury. “You killed my brothers!”

  “You can save your praise for later.”

  “You monster!” he shouted, spit flying from his lips, tears streaming from his eyes and mixing with the blood on his cuts.

  “And you’ve murdered plenty of my creatures,” I said. “Let’s not pretend either of us has clean hands. Dungeoneering is a contract between a hero and core. Everyone knows the risks. Did you come into my lair expecting a picnic? Did you think you could raid my dungeon again and again, injuring and killing my creatures and giving us no time to recover?”

  Cael couldn’t take his eyes off the blood-spattered boulder. He gripped his sword tighter. “I’ll destroy you, core.”

  “The time for that has long gone. You might say it has rolled by.”

  Footsteps sounded the arrival of my creatures now, blocking the other three passageways out of the tunnel. Most of them were injured and tired from our busy hero battling schedule, but that didn’t matter. Cael was alone, and he was hurt. Not only that, but he was so furious and upset that he couldn’t think straight, robbing him of even his wits. We had him.

  I held myself back from gloating for now. I needed to finish this, and then I could revel in my triumph all night.

  “Gary,” I began. Noticing something, I stopped talking.

  The anger had left Cael’s face as quickly as it had come, until he looked perfectly calm. A smile crept across his lips.

  “Core Beno,” he said. “It’s been good getting to know you. But you are aware that I am duty-bound to avenge my brothers?”

  “You don’t seem too upset about them,” I said, puzzled.

  “Truth be told, core, we were never all that close. We raided dungeons together, we spent gold together, but our bond wasn’t any greater than with other heroes. They were half-brothers, at any rate, products of our scoundrel of a father’s flings with trollops all the way across Xynnar. We worked together, supped together, but affection? Beno…you judged me all wrong.”

  I didn’t like the sound of this, nor did I enjoy the strange look on Cael’s face. A twisted one, as though some foreign presence had assumed control of his features.

  “Beno,” he said his voice cold. “My entire family could die in this pathetic pit, and I wouldn’t have a tear to shed. I’m too strong for things like that.”

  “Really? You looked like you were crying to me.”

  Cael rubbed his eyes. “My eye was watering.”

  “A pretty coincidental time for your eye to water, right after your brothers get flattened by a boulder.”

  “It was a watering eye, damn you! I care for nobody and nothing. But though my heart is colder than your dungeon, they were still of my blood. Blood always avenges blood. Even when there is little affection, there is always honor.”

  “It’s a shame you won’t have the chance to finish that. Gary? F
ight, Death, Kill? Everyone, in fact. Finish this!”

  “Your pathetic creatures couldn’t finish their dinner.”

  “Rip out his guts and flay his skin. Tear out his bones and crush his skull. Wrench his-”

  In one archway, Gary stretched two leech legs forward. His eight eyes blinked, and he bared a set of monstrous fangs. “We get it, Beno dear chap,” he said. “Kill the hero. Make him suffer. The usual business.”

  My monsters advanced on Cael. Gary stomped forward. Fire beetles scuttled. Kobolds scampered. The air was thick with tension and blood lust.

  Cael took out his phoenix feather and drew a hammer-shaped rune on his sword.

  “Now,” I said. “Before he uses his stupid wartificer spells.”

  “Too late,” came a sneering voice.

  Cael’s weapon flashed with an orange light three times. When he struck the boulder, it shattered into a thousand pieces, revealing the passageway behind.

  “Remember, Beno,” he said. “You could have let us leave with the loot and you’d never have seen us again. But now I’m going to come back, and it won’t be for loot. I’ll destroy you even if I have to kill every creature in this hovel.”

  I laughed. “You think this is over?”

  “Well, it appears my way out is no longer blocked. So, genius core, what do you think?”

  “I’ve seen you use the boulder smashing trick before, Cael. I know that you need a rest after using each of your runes before you can use them again. Did you think I wouldn’t have considered that? Wylie, pull the lever.”

  There was a mechanical crunch, and a second boulder fell from the hatch and made the tunnels shake. It began rolling down the passageway, where it would eventually block the archway and trap Cael again.

  “You bloody cores,” he hissed. “You know nothing of honor.”

  “Honor?” I said. “Never heard of it.”

  “Perhaps I’ll have to teach you…next time.”

  He reached into his pocket and drew out of a small, octagonal stone. When he threw this on the floor, a beam of light washed out, flooding the loot room with blinding yellow rays. It formed a twenty-feet-tall portal, which Cael leaped through.