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

by Alex Oakchest

  “You have Jahn looking through folks’ windows for you,” he said, “And the big scary yeti is training up the beginnings of an army. Good, Beno, but it doesn’t seem enough. Dullbright will work his whole town into a frenzy until they’re baying for whatever your equivalent of blood is. Cael, meanwhile, is most likely getting stronger by the day, and when he’s ready to come for you, he won’t be alone.”

  “You should have been a motivational speaker, Gull.”

  “I just hope you haven’t stopped your defense preparations there,” he said.

  “I didn’t have any essence left for more traps, but Wylie and the miners have made some adjustments for me.”

  “New chambers?”

  “Nothing that drastic. He used some of the stones we collected after excavating Razensen’s chamber and we’ve created ambush hills in a few of the rooms. Chiefly the loot chamber, since that is where most battles are fought. If I’m going to use bowmen, they need cover.”

  “But you aren’t just going to wait around for Cael to come to you?”

  “Defense is like you and your cravats; you don’t always need them, but you feel lost without them. I just want to cover myself.”

  “What about our friend over in Hogsfeate, then?”

  “I thought I might just have Dullbright killed.”

  “Hmm. A rather simple solution.”

  “Almost graceful, I think,” I said.

  “It doesn’t seem wise to send an army, even if you had one big enough to invade a walled town.”

  “I was going to be a lot subtler than that. I thought perhaps that I could send Shadow. She is the only member of the dungeon adept at stealth, and she has the Backstab ability. It seems to me that with Dullbright gone, the people of Hogsfeate might be content to let the matter drop.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “You saw Dullbright. You saw his statue. Did the two even bear any resemblance? The man has gone to pasture. His sword-swinging days are almost over, and when they are, what will he have left? Defeating Namantep is how he got his name, and doing the same to me is how he’ll keep his name relevant. If he were to unfortunately pass away, most of the Hogsfeate townsfolk would be content to just get on with their lives, I imagine.”

  “Maybe. As long as they didn’t think a dungeon core had arranged the killing.”

  “Shadow will have to make sure it looks like someone else’s work.”

  Wait a second.

  “Someone else’s work,” I said. The words were awakening something in my mind. “Someone else’s work…someone else’s work…”

  “Do you need a lie-down, Beno?”

  And then it fell into place.

  “Nope. I need essence. And for that, I need time.”

  When I visited Core Jahn’s dungeon, I found Jopvitz, one of my miners, sitting on the floor, alone, in an empty chamber.

  “What’s going on? Where are the core visions?”

  Jopvitz shrugged. “The other Dark Lord said he no longer has time to cast them today. He needed to focus on his work.”

  “The other Dark Lord? Do you mean Jahn?”

  “Yes!”

  “Not all cores are your Dark Lords, Jopvitz. Just me.”

  “Yes, Dark Lord.”

  “Did you get a chance to see anything at all?”

  “I watched visions, Dark Lord. I watched for hours. Most of the time it was just people in their horrible houses. Eating meals. Talking.”

  “No secret meetings? No whispering?”

  “Nothing, Dark Lord.”

  “Damn it.”

  “Ah, it’s you, Beno! What a lovely surprise. Twice in two days you have come to visit!”

  Jahn had just appeared on the pedestal in the center of the room. He was covered in dust and gave off an air of exhaustion. As well as having strong human emotions, Jahn was the only core I had ever met who needed to sleep.

  “Good to see you, Jahn. Where are the core visions?” I said.

  “I’m sorry, Beno, but it was taxing. I have so much work to do for the chiefs, and I found it impossible to focus on it while keeping my visions projected.”

  “Damn it!”

  “I am really in a difficult position, Beno. Reginal and Galatee expect me to work on the town. If my progress slows, they will wonder why.”

  I sighed. Not at Jahn, really, but myself. “I know. I understand the position I’m putting you in, but this is important for both of us. If we don’t take care of the No-Cores, we’re in real trouble.”

  “I know, Beno. I’m trying.”

  “I know you are. I’m sorry, Jahn. I don’t mean to behave like an absolute donkey’s arse.”

  Jahn gave off a wave of kindness. “Are you scared, Beno?”

  I paused. I glanced at Jopvitz, who had the expression of a child trapped in the middle of his parents’ sensitive conversation, and unsure of how to extricate himself.

  “I’m not scared,” I said.

  “It’s okay to be. You always say that the old core ways of doing things are wrong. That we shouldn’t treat our dungeon mates as slaves. That we should foster relationships with them. Well, why do we not say the same about the old idea that cores shouldn’t have emotions? Eh?”

  “Emotions stop you from thinking clearly.”

  “Beno, emotions guide us. Why do you suppose people have them? They are there to influence our decisions and ensure our physical and mental survival.”

  Was this Jahn I was speaking to, or had someone taken the place of my friend? I had never expected to hear this kind of thing from him.

  “You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?”

  “I know what they all used to say about me, back at the academy. That more of my human side had come through than for anyone else. The overseers said it would hold me back, and perhaps it did, when it came to dungeons. But I think there’s more to it than dungeons, Beno.”

  “It?”

  “More to our existence than being a core. Have you never thought about it?”

  “More to our existence than being a core? We are cores now! There’s no more to it. That’s like asking ‘is there more to being a human, than being human?’”

  “You’ve never asked if there might exist other reasons for a person to be resurrected and forged into a new life?” said Jahn.

  Jahn was leading me into dangerous thoughts and murky waters. At the academy, we were taught not to think about things like reasons or purposes, because no answer could ever satisfy the hunger once you woke it, and further questions would only make it stronger.

  “Beno?”

  “I don’t need a higher purpose, Jahn. I’ve never heard of them doing anyone any good. Right now, I need to see a core vision,” I said. “A particular Yondersun resident named Boothe Stramper.”

  “The man with scars all over his face?”

  “He’s with the No-Cores. He’s their enforcer, though they stop short of giving him that title officially. They can’t be seen to be more than just peaceful protesters, of course. If they showed themselves to be the violent morons that they really are, Galatee would have a good enough reason to squash them without risking her popularity.”

  “Stramper is staying in one of my lodges in the west district, I believe. Devry plotted a grid system for every house, and we have recorded who lives in each one. Let me just remember…ah, here we go!”

  Jahn cast an image on the wall, showing us the living abode of a Yondersun lodge. A heavily scarred man was sitting at a table with an array of knives spread out in front of him. He had a cloth in his left hand and a jar of oil by his right, and he was lovingly wiping oil on a curved blade that had lots of cruel jagged spikes on the underside.

  “I always leave you to last,” he said to his knife, his voice drifting out from Jahn’s casting. “Because you’re my favorite.”

  “That’s him,” I said. “Booth Stramper and his impressive toy collection.”

  “Why not just show this to the chiefs, Dark Lord?�
� said Jopvitz. “Show that he has lots of knives.”

  I had completely forgotten that the kobold was listening. He had surprised me; it wasn’t that all kobolds are lacking in intelligence, that would be unfair to say. Their intelligence usually lay in other areas than reasoning.

  “A good idea, Jopvitz,” I said. “But with a problem.”

  “I can’t show the chief that I have been helping Beno spy on people,” said Jahn.

  “Exactly. More importantly, what does this prove? A man can own as many knives as he likes. Even in the more civilized places in Xynnar, a man can arm himself. It isn’t until he sticks one in some poor sap’s gut that the big arse of the law can loom over him.”

  “Ah. As you say then, Dark Lord.”

  “That was a good suggestion though, Jopvitz.”

  I decided to keep an eye on Jopvitz. I had created him to merely be part of Wylie’s mining team, but perhaps there was something else he could do. He had spent all day watching the visions and had by all accounts been completely diligent. He had also shown that he could analyze information. I didn’t have any specific jobs to give him to test his potential, but it would be good to see how quick he was at learning any new skill.

  “Jopvitz, I’d like you to join Shadow and Tomlin in stealth training tomorrow,” I said.

  “Supervisor Wylie asked that I begin my mining work an hour early tomorrow to make up for time spent here.”

  “He really is a tyrant, isn’t he? Don’t worry about Wylie.”

  “Yes, Dark Lord. Thank you. I look forward to learning under mistress Shadow.”

  I didn’t even bother to address him referring to Shadow as mistress. As much as she was a thorn in my arse, the other kobolds all respected her. There was no point taking that respect away for now, not when I wanted Jopvitz to learn under her.

  “What are you going to do about Stramper?” asked Jahn.

  “About him? Nothing. With him? Well, you’ll see.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sorry, Jahn. Being cryptic has become a habit. I’m going completely erode his credibility and rid myself of two problems in one turn.”

  CHAPTER 11

  - Shadow’s [archery] proficiency has increased to 3!

  - Tomlin’s [stealth] proficiency has increased to 2!

  - Razensen’s Unit:

  Kobolds [x6] have leveled up to 4! [Arena boost active]

  Bone guys [x4] have leveled up to 3! [Arena boost active]

  Shrub Bandits [x4] have leveled up to 5! [Arena boost active]

  Dear Beno,

  Just a quick note to let you know about Maginhart’s progress. And I do mean a quick note. Reginal is roaming around Yondersun like a bee has stung his rump. “Cynthia, I need this!” “Cynthia, where are my fertilizers?” It gets tiresome being the only alchemist, artificer, and tinker in town.

  Firstly, let me just say that Maginhart is a delight. I have always been pals with him, of course, since you’re always sending him to me to ask for stuff. Having him around for longer than just a brief visit has turned out to be a pleasure.

  Onto more serious matters. Maginhart has excelled in his tinkering tuition. He’s smart, focused, and loves taking things apart. I think he shows great promise.

  As for alchemy and artificery…well. I don’t like to call an apple bad until I see blemishes on its skin. Early signs, however, point to my little friend struggling with chemical compounds and infusing mana into things.

  It has only been a few days, of course, but I have a knack for seeing promise long before others, and I worry about Maginhart’s artificery and alchemy. Not that I will stop trying to teach him.

  If he gave up his studies now, it’d be a failure on my part, and not little Magi's. So, I’ll keep trying to chisel knowledge and skills into that block of kobold stone.

  I’d write a little more, but I don’t have the time or inclination.

  Yours busily, Cynthia.

  “Thank you, Peach,” I said. “You can get rid of the note.”

  My elemental jelly reached out with a long globule of goo and slapped the paper note, making it stick to what was the jelly equivalent of a hand. As the jelly left my core room, I had a second thought.

  “Actually, Peach, can you leave the note here? Just put it on the bookcase. Thank you.”

  Peach, who had a temper problem even for an angry elemental jelly cube, muttered to himself as he placed the note and left the room.

  “Feeling sentimental, are we?” asked Gulliver, nodding at the note.

  “I thought it might be nice to collect them, that’s all. To keep a record of Maginhart’s progress. For evaluation reasons.”

  “Right. For a moment, I thought it was because you are proud of your kobold making progress on new skills.”

  “Preposterous. Anyway, we have work to do, Gull. It took the best part of two days, but I finally have enough essence.”

  “This should be fun. Wait a second. Let me get my quill.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “A problem?”

  “I don’t like to create monsters in my core room.”

  “Does it really matter?”

  “Yes, Gull. It does. I like to have a part of my dungeon room that is just for me. A place where I do as little work as possible. In this chamber, the only monsters, heroes, and battles I like to concern myself with are the ones on my bookshelves.”

  Gulliver scribbled something in his book.

  “What did you just write?” I asked.

  “Nothing.”

  I sighed. “Let’s use the alchemy chamber. Razensen is training his unit in the arena, and Gary and the fire beetles are in the loot room. I swear, I can’t get any peace in this bloody dungeon.”

  The alchemy chamber was the most decorated chamber in this part of the dungeon. Waves of mana light glowed on the walls, illuminating patterned carvings of various spirals and shapes. On the ground were two runemarks, one red and the other blue. Both were large enough to fit a corpse inside, which was useful given that my primary use of the alchemy chamber was to dissolve hero corpses.

  “This is my least favorite room in your whole dungeon,” said Gulliver. “And that includes your toxin chamber. There’s something so dreary about it. I mean, look at all the blood on the floor! Can’t you at least try to mop it up?”

  “That becomes a chore after a dozen corpses. Besides, this is a dungeon. It’s supposed to be covered in blood and guts and other innards.”

  “To think. my master always told me that a scribe’s life was exotic.”

  I focused on the alchemy chamber floor, gathering my essence in my core and forcing it to ball up, to compact and to tremble inside me, desperate to be unleashed. When I judged it was ready, I let it out, focusing it into the shapes I needed.

  Mimic x2 created!

  [Essence remaining 505 / 1505]

  “I’ll never get used to how utterly unimpressive mimics are in their natural state,” said Gulliver, staring at the two translucent blobs lying on the floor.

  “They have ears, you know.”

  “Really? I can’t see them. Correct me if I’m wrong, though I doubt it, but mimics don’t have emotions of their own, no? They merely take on the emotions of those whom they mimic. It isn’t as if I can hurt their feelings.”

  “Personal emotions would hamper them. If they’re to successfully mimic someone else, they must be a blank canvas. The more of themselves they bring into their mimicry, the less convincing they will be.”

  “Correct, you trussed up goose!” said a voice from the floor.

  “Remember that, you poncy prat!” said another.

  My two lumps off goo had formed little gooey mouths and lips, and had evidently decided the first words to come from them would be insults toward Gulliver.

  “Not as blank a canvas as you’d hope then, eh?” said Gulliver. “They might look like Dolos, but they sure as demon turd don’t have his reserve.”

  “They’ll do the job. It’s not
like I have much of a choice, is it? I can only think of a few ways to deal with both the No-Cores and Sir Dullbright that don’t bring all-out war on my dungeon.”

  “What are the other ways?”

  “They’re impossible to pull off unless I had a dragon or a wish lantern. Let’s get to it.”

  “What exactly is it?”

  “One of our mimics is going to take Boothe Stramper’s form,” I said. “This is how we’ll deal with the No-Cores. Using force against the protestors would only turn them into victims or even martyrs. It would also give credibility to their stupid slogans about how dangerous I am. We need to fight them another way. The same way their movement grew in the first place.”

  “I’ll get started on the poorly decorated signs and badly rhymed chants,” sighed Gulliver.

  “No, Gull. We just need to spread a little disinformation. To ruin their reputations. Once our mimic has seen what Stramper looks and sounds like, he can mimic him. Then, we’ll make sure this mimicked Stramper gets seen around Yondersun doing things that completely undermine the No-Core movement.”

  “Stramper is just the hired help. If you really want to undermine them, have him mimic their leader, Gilleasberg Torp.”

  “If only. Gilleasberg is seen around town a lot more than Stramper, which increases the chance of the real Gilleasberg and the mimic Gilleasberg being seen at the same time, which wouldn’t be ideal. Whereas Stramper works mostly in the background and thus is not expected to appear publicly as much.”

  “What if Lady Chance does decide to take a great dump on you, and two Strampers end up in the same part of town?”

  “I’m not a complete amateur, Gull. We’ll use Jahn’s visions and make sure Stramper is at home.”

  “I like this. I like it a lot. But it seems to me that you are missing something.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Critical mass of the popular movement. Using a mimicked Stramper to undermine the movement’s credibility will work a little, but it will be like chopping down a tree. One axe will take time. But many axes will get the job done faster.”