Monster Core: A Gamelit Harem Dungeon Core

by Dante King

  “They seem pleased,” Ralph observed.

  “These are the first kills we’ve made in weeks,” Zarrik said. “Our band has been starving for essence. Our power dwindles without a constant stream of energy.”

  “I have barely rested, so I wouldn’t know.”

  “You’ll find the thirst for essence is insatiable. It’ll turn you into a fiend. Something about the way Infernal tattoos are made. They hook you worse than the sand-weed those fellas are smoking.”

  Ralph could feel the hunger for power, but it didn’t seem insatiable. He wanted to grow stronger; it wasn’t the essence making him desire it.

  “Is Zagorath truly as valuable as you say it is?” Zarrik asked.

  Ralph’s mind flickered back to the dungeon. The side-altars, the sigil-infused weapons resting there in the blood-red light, and the monsters filled with essence were all waiting to be claimed. The dungeon had claimed the lives of Alaxon and the entire band of Scalpers, so its power would’ve done nothing except grow.

  It would be a difficult battle, but Ralph believed they could win. The Scalpers had been amateurs, and Ralph had never dived a dungeon before. The Sand Pirates were something else entirely, and he now had the benefit of experience. After all, he’d defeated Kerril, the leader of the Sand Pirates, and he now wielded the dead man’s swords.

  “It’s claimed everybody who’s walked down its steps,” Ralph told his right-hand man.

  “Except you,” Zarrik said with a smile.

  “Aye. Except me.”

  “You said you conquered it. How?”

  Ralph didn’t flinch. If he was to perpetuate the lie, he would have to be unblinking about it. “The others were too enthusiastic, too consumed with greed. They fell, but not before they took the dungeon’s champions with them. From there, it was a simple matter of taking the mace and leaving.”

  “And you left the core behind?” Zarrik muttered, shaking his head.

  “Wouldn’t you?” Ralph challenged him. “If it’s allowed to thrive, then the monsters of Shadow Crag and all of the Infernal Realm grow in strength. Giving us more essence. A constant stream of it. Would you not do the same?”

  Alaxon had taught Ralph all about the economy of dungeons, and the false-priest had also mentioned that cores were not so easily taken after their roots were planted into the earth. It required high-order magic to remove a sealed core, but Zarrik obviously didn’t know this. Ralph didn’t hold the pirate’s ignorance against him; it wasn’t unreasonable for him to know so little about dungeons—after all there hadn’t been one in this realm for centuries.

  Zarrik nodded. “You make a good point. Never thought there’d be a dungeon back here. Sounds like the realm is on the up. What’s our next move, Chief?”

  Ralph almost flinched this time. Chief? Was that his new title? It sure sounded good coming off the other man’s tongue. He looked down at his hands and the ring glittering on his finger. He had taken from Kerril’s gnarled hand, and only in the moonlight could he easily see the runes etched into its surface. It carried an enchantment, but Ralph hadn’t determined its use yet. He was already strong, fast, and filled with an unshakable bloodlust—but were they a result of magic or just his desire to ascend through adventurer ranks?

  “Chief?” Zarrik prodded.

  “We stay to the path,” Ralph said after he recalled the other man’s question. “More monsters crawl over this mountain, drawing their power from Zagorath. If we’re to survive its depths, we need to be brimming with Essence. How are the others? Have they had their fill yet?”

  His new lieutenant laughed. “We’re never satisfied, Ralph.”

  Ralph grinned at their shared motivations. “Then let’s allow the others to rest. We move at dawn.”

  Visions of Zagorath filled Ralph’s light sleep, and he awoke constantly to the imagined sounds of battle. Rather than spend the evening tossing and turning, he decided to take watch and allow his men a full night’s rest.

  When the sun peeked over the horizon, they resumed their journey up the mountain. Sulfur gnomes crawled from the cracks and holes of Shadow Crag, accompanied by an enormous bat with glowing red eyes and huge fangs. Ralph had never seen such a thing, but when one of the party—an enormous man named Razen—brought his huge warhammer of matte steel down on its head, Infernal energy radiated from the strike and caused the monster’s skull to implode. Bone and brain matter splattered over the gnomes, and they scattered in retreat.

  Razen hefted his hammer back over his shoulder as the Infernal Essence swirled into his tattoo. The brands glowed a shimmering blood-red and made his eyes glitter with power.

  “Should we go after the gnomes?” a half-orc said.

  “No,” Ralph said as he watched the monsters retreated into their warrens. “There’ll be plenty more essence on our journey. And the greatest prize awaits!”

  The Sand Pirates roared their approval before mustering forward. Ralph took a moment to run his hands over Kerril’s broadswords holstered on his back. He had used them frequently, and they proved as effective as the Dark Reaper. Even still, a lingering doubt hovered in his mind. Alaxon had admitted to lying about the prophecy, but a sliver of hope existed. Mother had told Ralph that he would be something great, and he’d always thought she carried the gift of prophecy. Maybe the false-priest had actually made a valid premonition?

  The thought carried Ralph onward as he traversed the mountain alongside his band of pirates. They continued slaying monsters, soaking up their essence, and increasing in power. Taking Zagorath would be a simple task at the speed of their progression.

  When they were almost at the peak, a deafening screech pierced the air, and Ralph recoiled as his blood boiled at the very sound of it. The Sand Pirates hesitated, and Zarrik cursed in his native dialect, before looking back to Ralph.

  “What the fuck was that?” The lieutenant's eyes were wide, and his expression showed fear for the first time.

  Ralph recalled his first climb with the Scalpers and how a similar sound had drifted across the mountain. It had been duller then, barely a whisper. Even Alaxon, with all of his experience, hadn’t known the source of the sound. But it was far closer now, and more threatening.

  Every foe they’d faced thus face had fallen before pirate blades. This would be no different. An extra supply of essence would only help them conquer Zagorath with more ease.

  Ralph gripped the two swords, and they hissed free of the leather as he unsheathed them. The dark blates glittering in the failing light of the sunset.

  “It sounded big,” he said to his men, not a hint of fear penetrating his voice. “Perfect for us.”

  The pirates seemed to drink in Ralph’s confidence, and he wondered whether this might be the magic present inside the ring. They certainly obeyed his every command, and his emotions seemed to drift over them and penetrate their hearts.

  Good. He would need men willing to die at his word. Kerril’s knowledge had taught him as much. Years of battle tactics and leadership skills filled his mind while the magical substance roared through his body.

  “We’ll go where you lead, Chief,” Zarrik said, and the rest nodded in assent.

  The screeches grew louder as they approached with weapons drawn. Ralph lifted a hand, and they all crouched behind a crop of boulders. As he lifted his head to peak over a rock, an enormous flying creature suddenly dove from above. Ralph only caught a glimpse of the thing—a long, slithering neck with feathers, a round gut covered in scales, and dragon-like wings—before he dived toward the wall of the mountain. The monster’s beak struck the ground, shattering the slate where he’d been a second before.

  The Sand Pirates moved in a pincer-formation to try and trap the giant creature, but it lifted free of the ground before they could ensnare it. They let fly with crossbows, but the Orc Steel bolts didn’t penetrate the monster’s flesh or tear through its wings.

  “Don’t waste your bolts,” Ralph said. “Save them for the dungeon.”

 
The monster dived again, targeting Ralph again. It must have known he was the leader, or it could sense the powerful equipment he was carrying. Either way, he wasn’t going to let the monster end his dungeon dive before it began. The left broadsword slashed down as the creature came within striking distance, and the blade cut through its eye. The monster recoiled and flew to the mountainside behind them. Blood oozed from its wound, and it swiveled its head to seek out more prey. A black chain was attached to its back, and it seemed to be buried on the mountain’s peak.

  Who had placed it here? Was this the work of Zagorath?

  “Draw it down,” Ralph said, dismissing the questions. “There’s no use trying to climb and get it. We need it on the ground.”

  The monster sprung from its perch and attacked Zarrik this time. The lieutenant dived and rolled over the cracked slate to avoid certain death. Magical speed ignited in Ralph’s limbs, and he burst toward the monster. He leaped into the air and half-flew toward his intended destination. The creature didn’t see him coming, and the twin swords sank into his neck. Black and red burst from its throat, and the monster thrashed. Ralph tried to hold onto his swords, but his fingers loosened and he tumbled from the creature’s back. He struck the hard ground, and as the dying creature continued to scream and flail, he rolled to his feet. His boots struggled to grip the loose scrabble as the threat of being flung off the cliff in the monster’s death throes became an almost certain reality. The monster crashed into him, and his right foot slid over the cliff. His left came after, and it was only a quick flash of his hands that saved him from falling off. The rock bit into his fingers as he clamped onto the cliff’s edge.

  “Chief!” Zarrik yelled, and then came a furious clamor of weapons striking flesh.

  Ralph scrambled over the cliff as Razen leapt from a boulder, bringing his hammer whirling down. With a blast of Infernal Essence, the winged monster was hurled from the mountain’s edge, Ralph spinning away at the last second.

  The enormous black chain trailed behind it and then suddenly snapped. It cracked like a whip and recoiled after the monster. Ralph watched in horror as the metal links wrapped around Zarrik’s legs and dragged him toward the cliff.

  “Help me!” the pirate screamed, but the rest of the crew were too far away, and he was traveling to his doom far too quickly.

  Ralph sprang forward, the Infernal Essence blasting through his system and giving him the strength of Lilith’s spawn. He gripped the metal chain in both hands and planted his feet against a boulder.

  “You don’t die here,” Ralph growled through gritted teeth. “Come on, climb!”

  The weight of both pirate and monster was almost too much to bare, but then the rest of the cohort lined up behind Ralph and tugged on the end of the chain. Soon, Zarrik was back onto the cliff, but the monster’s link to its chain had been severed. Only a hunk of flesh remained at the end of the chain now.

  “You have my thanks, Chief,” Zarrik said.

  “You live!” Razen said as he clapped Ralph on the back. “You are like a man of prophecy, one who cannot die.”

  Ralph grinned. “It’s a pity about—”

  “The swords?” Razen asked as he nodded at both weapons lying bloody on the ground. “A true pirate never leaves anything that can’t be taken. I pulled them from the monster before I gave it the end of my warhammer.”

  Ralph took the swords, wiped the blood from the blades, and then sheathed them. He walked to the cliff’s edge and peered down at the massacred monster that had splattered on a crag a few dozen paces beneath. Infernal Essence drifted from the corpse, and he closed his eyes to concentrate. He gritted his teeth from the effort of drawing the substance upward, but after a few moments, it was already siphoning into his sigil. He stopped halfway through the process and turned to his men.

  “You can have the rest,” he said.

  The pirates jumped at the opportunity for more spoils while Zarrik stood beside Ralph. He didn’t absorb any of the essence, likely because he thought he didn’t deserve it by almost dying. Ralph had almost died, too, but he wouldn’t give up the opportunity for essence just for the sake of honor. He would provide his men with some of the spoils, so he wasn’t entirely without honor.

  Zarrik slung his crescent-bladed axe over his shoulder and slapped Ralph’s shoulder. “Shall we continue, Chief?”

  “Aye,” Ralph said. “Onward to Zagorath!”

  As they started back up the path, keeping their eyes upward for more of the creatures, Zarrik spoke again.

  “The gods truly blessed us with you, Ralph Kraus.”

  Ralph didn’t think the question foolish, but he wanted to know more. “How so?”

  “Kerril would’ve left me to die,” he told me simply. “You didn’t.”

  “You chose to follow me. You trusted me. The Scalpers—those that I first raided the dungeon with—they refused to. Victory lies with me leading the Sand Pirates, and I want you by my side. Every last one of you must enter the dungeon, and every last one of you must leave it victorious.”

  It was an unlikely scenario, but Kerril’s knowledge flowed through Ralph’s mind and told him that a leader needed to fill his troops with courage, even if his words were false.

  “We’ll follow you to the end,” Zarrik said, and a murmur of assent came from the others.

  Another steep climb, and yet another feathered monstrosity erupted from the mountainside. This time, Ralph had much more time to set eyes on it. But for the warping of Lilith, this monster might’ve been human once upon a time. Now it was vulture-like, fastened to the mountain by a long black chain, each link almost the size of his outstretched hand and thick as the haft of a smith’s hammer.

  The pirates were ready this time, and they darted closer to the mountainside, forcing the monster to adjust its flightpath. A pirate—his name was Undzin— jabbed a long poleaxe at the monster’s face, slicing open the corvian skull and forcing it to retreat. Led by Razen and Zarrik, the others surged forward, heavy weapons ready to cleave and crush. Feeling the Infernal Essence feeding his rage, Ralph charged forward as the monster swiped with its huge wings, looking to hurl him into the abyss.

  This time, they’d all learned their lesson. They were focused and single-minded in their goal—destroy this vile creature and take its essence for themselves. Two pirates pinned its wings, their blades tearing through its feathered flesh. Blood fountained from the creature as it twisted and tried in vain to find and pierce one of the pirates. There were too many pirates for the monster to succeed, and Ralph dodged a savage strike from the creature’s beak before sweeping both broadswords over his head and decapitating the monster with one almighty swing. The beast went slack and slid sideways. The chain on its stout collar rattled as the corpse of the monster slid off the cliff. The chain broke rather than leaving the creature suspended over the mountainside.

  “The links must break after it dies,” Zarrik commented.

  Ralph took the lead and siphoned half the monster’s essence before granting the pirates the rest. While it might have been seen as unfair, none of the band protested. He was their chief, after all, and he needed to be strong. Ralph was starting to think he was destined to lead in this manner.

  After they absorbed the last of the essence and moved on, they found themselves on a plateau, crowded with the creatures. There were at least five of them, curled protectively over nests of eggs.

  Ralph pulled Kerril’s blades from his back, and the sigils etched into the blades glowed as they greedily fed on the power inside his body. One gave him far greater swiftness than even the Reaper could offer. The other gave him explosive strength, offering an explanation for the duel and the old leader’s absurd dexterity in wielding these weapons.

  The moment the monsters sensed the pirates, their reared their enormous bodies, flared out their wings, and screeched with almost enough force to burst eardrums. Ralph didn’t even need to see his fellow Sand Pirates to know that they were spreading out behind him, knuckles wh
ite around their weapons.

  “There’s too many,” Zarrik warned from the left. “We’ll take your lead, Chief. Give the word and we’ll strike.”

  The murmurs from the other pirates were less sure this time, but not one of them was silent.

  As loathe as Ralph was to admit it, his lieutenant was right. The monsters hadn’t attacked them yet, and they almost seemed a little afraid. They weren’t the giant feathered beasts who had taken significant effort to slay. In fact, they were a little smaller and their chains were shorter. Their talons seemed blunted, and their faces were spotted with bright red patches.

  “They’re females,” Ralph said with a smile. “They’re sitting on eggs. I don’t think they’ll attack us.”

  “Then we move through them?” Razen asked.

  “Aye,” Ralph replied.

  “What of their essence?” Undzin asked. His eyes were ablaze with a desperate hunger, and it seemed that Zarrik’s words about essence-hunger were true. He was like a madman, and Ralph had seen enough town drunks back on Cothslar to know that a drink was the only thing that would cure them.

  “I didn’t say we were going to leave all of them alive,” Ralph said, with a manic grin. “Just those that are protecting the eggs. We’ll leave the others to breed, so we can return to them later. Once we conquer Zagorath, they’ll be ours to do with as we wish.”

  The pirate nodded and produced a bloodthirsty smile.

  Then, as one, the Sand Pirates charged the nesting monsters.

  Some shrank back from their charge, hissing and gathering themselves protectively over clusters of grey-black eggs. Those, the pirates left to live. But the others whirled to match them, their talons ready to strike. Their wings, however, were incapable of flight, and on open ground, the pirates had the advantage. Ralph led from the front, dual blades singing a deathsong as they sliced, cleaved, and bit into bone and flesh and feather. Blood splattered over him, and he absorbed their essence even as his cut them down. A snarling yell entered his ears, and he almost recoiled, but then he realized it was coming from his own throat.