The Crafter's Dilemma: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 3)

by Jonathan Brooks

  The Ogre took a single step forward…and then was knocked flat on its back as an explosion shattered half of its ribcage. Three more explosions followed in quick succession, blowing off a leg, an arm, and finally its skull shattered, sending bone fragments everywhere – before they dissipated as the last Undead that had assaulted the village was finally destroyed.

  * It’s about time – what took you so long? *

  Echo was seated on the back of a Pegasus, her bow still held out in front of her and to the side of the flying horse’s neck, trying to avoid being smacked in the head by a flapping wing. “It’s not my fault this thing is so slow; you’d think being able to fly would make it quicker somehow, but I swear I could’ve ran here by myself even faster,” she said with a sneer to the open air, looking at the pair of Shears Sandra had brought down to talk to her. “Besides, it was your idea that I ride it, so it’s ultimately your fault that I’m late.”

  Her sneer went away, however, as she patted the side of the Pegasus fondly. “I have to admit, though – this is quite the steed to ride into battle. I think I might even name her.”

  * Her? I don’t think my Monsters are either a him or a her. *

  “Doesn’t matter, I can just think of her whatever I like since you gave her to me.” Echo smiled as she waved down to a couple of Dwarves that were staring at an Elf sitting on the back of a pure-white flying horse that had a faint light aura around it.

  I guess that’s something you don’t see every day.

  Chapter 29

  By the time the pre-dawn light was brightening up the barren landscape of the wastelands, the villagers and the surviving Shieldmen were already on their way towards Sandra’s dungeon. Actually, Gerold told them it was – not inaccurately, even if not the whole truth – a safe haven and refuge for them; apparently, the only ones that had known where Gerold had actually gone had perished in the battle overnight, so his report that there was somewhere safe they could go made it much easier to convince them to evacuate than it probably would’ve been otherwise. Even the Shieldmen hadn’t argued about it, though that was likely because they were practically dead on their feet, their energy levels so low they couldn’t think straight.

  With a third of their fields burned, 80% of the Shieldmen dead (including their leader) and facing the possibility of another attack by the Undead, it wasn’t really that hard to get everyone to pack up everything they could carry and bring it with them. In all, every single one of the 62 villagers had survived, but of the 53 Shieldmen that had been alive at the start of the night…only 11 of them had made it through – if she counted Gerold in that count. It was a dour bunch that shuffled slowly across the wasteland, their exhaustion from the night obvious as they walked into the unknown. She had asked Gerold if any of them wanted to ride on one of her Apes or Pegasi, but none of them trusted her Monsters enough yet despite the fact that they had been saved by them.

  Sandra couldn’t blame them, really; they had lost a lot over the last couple of hours and it was undoubtedly hard to trust Dungeon Monsters so soon after such a tragedy. Fortunately, the villagers – as well as the surviving Shieldmen, veterans as most of them were – looked towards Gerold as an authority figure that they were happy enough to follow…for the moment, at least. When the shock of the events wore off and everyone got some sleep, that could change, but as the one that supposedly “brought reinforcements” Gerold was ostensibly in charge.

  All of which was a good thing, because Sandra expected some further attacks against the Dwarven village. Half of her forces were currently escorting the Dwarves to her village, while the other half had gone back to the Undead dungeon entrance; while they had been absent going about their reinforcement duties, however, the few Shears she had kept back keeping an eye on the entrance had seen scores of Undead streaming out – and there was nothing she could do to stop them. The flow of Undead only increased as over 40 Shieldmen were killed, and now they were scattered over the forest with Sandra unable to keep track of them.

  Sandra also got an equal amount of Mana from those deaths, as unintentional and unwanted as it was; since it had occurred in her Area of Influence as well as the Undead Core’s, she received half of the resulting Mana – as much she’d rather not benefit from the deaths of sentient people, she wasn’t going to waste it. The flow of Mana coming from their deaths “dwarfed” the previous amount she had received from the deaths of the Gnomes for some reason, though – especially when Bregan, their leader, had perished.

  “It’s because of their greater capacity to hold and use elemental energy compared to those who haven’t trained that part of themselves,” Winxa informed her. “The Gnomes weren’t Enchanters that had constantly worked on building up their elemental energy, so they weren’t…‘worth’ as much, as callous as that sounds. If those Elite Elves that were in your dungeon not so long ago had died, you’d probably have seen even more from them.”

  Sandra guessed that made sense, though putting a value on someone’s life like that was indeed callous. But it also explained how she was able to fill up her entire treasury with Elemental Orbs and Cubes while the battle was ongoing. She didn’t have enough focus to funnel the Mana into anything more productive at that time, so it seemed like the best idea; now it was going to come in handy when all the Dwarves arrived, because she had plenty of Large Elemental Orbs to complete the Visitor’s Bond with all of them.

  That was, if they agreed to it – though she was hoping they would, because she didn’t want any unfortunate accidents between her Monsters or Traps and them. She had already had to stop her forces out aboveground from automatically attacking the Shieldmen when they first were encountered, and she didn’t want inattention in the dungeon to have unintended consequences. Not only that, but Sandra would be extremely limited on what she could do with non-bonded “invaders” in her dungeon, so she was considering making it a requirement.

  She also used a relatively small portion of the Mana she received to furnish all of the rooms they were going to stay in and live, though they weren’t very fancy; basic wooden bedframes with a simple Bearling Leather mattress comprised of multiple layers, followed by Cotton sheets and a Cotton pillow filled with raw Cotton bolls. It took some impromptu growing of Cotton in the cleared fields she had for future food production as well as harvesting, but she had plenty of time while the Dwarves were trying to figure out what they were doing in the late night and early morning.

  It also took a small army of constructs consisting of Hyper Automatons, Iron-Banded Articulated Clockwork Golems (which, as the name implied, had a much greater range of motion than its previous incarnation), and Large Armored Sentinels that harvested the cotton, assembled all of the bedframes, and worked with Sandra to craft all of the Cotton Cloth pillowcases. By that time, however, she had gotten so adept at controlling and directing her constructs that it was all done before the Dwarves even started on their journey. She knew it was certainly going to be a rough adjustment for them, but hopefully not too bad.

  The plan to delve through the Undead Core’s dungeon had been delayed, but it was only a matter of sending her Monsters forces to clean up the surrounding areas again before she sent them down to attack; the last thing she wanted was to have them attacked again by those Undead roaming around right now, like what had happened when she destroyed the Reptile Core. As much as they needed to destroy the Core now, she didn’t want to jeopardize the expedition right from the start; it had been necessary before, because the Elves had been directly threatened and there was very little choice in the matter.

  What made that scenario different from now was that she was pretty sure she had the necessary means to carry out the destruction of the Reptile Core with just her constructs; this time, with the Undead Core being so powerful, she knew she needed to improve what she was going to send against it to ensure victory. She might’ve waited too long, unfortunately, which resulted in what happened that night, but it could’ve been much worse if she had gone into the dungeon wit
h forces that didn’t manage to succeed. It would’ve put Sandra further behind, while giving the Undead Core the means to upgrade even more, making them even more powerful.

  I have to stick by the choices I make, even if they don’t turn out to be the correct ones; I know I’m no expert in these types of matters, and I’m doing the best I can with limited information. The fact that the Undead Core seemed to be just the opposite of her limited knowledge of strategy and tactical matters only made it more difficult to make correct decisions…but she was learning. Sandra had tried to be adaptable during the battle between the Dwarves and the Undead and it might’ve even saved some lives, though she was fairly confident she had been outclassed in that by the other Core again. She was just thankful that the Core seemed so bloodthirsty and out to kill the Dwarves that it didn’t really defend properly against her Monsters when they arrived, otherwise it may have turned out differently.

  Regardless, it was over and done with and she could only work towards the elimination of the Undead Core now with focus, and despite the timeline being pushed back momentarily, Sandra was confident it could still happen by the start of the next day. She just had to deliver the Dwarves safely and then start destroying all of the Undead outside the dungeon again—

  …Oh, no – what now?

  Sandra had been constantly monitoring the borders of the wasteland for any threats, because she didn’t want to be surprised by something; although most of her focus had been near the forest filled with Undead, she still periodically looked towards the Elves and Orcs to make sure they were fine. One of her Shears near the Orc lands spotted something running into the wastelands, stumbling and floundering from apparent exhaustion; dawn was just starting to touch on the horizon, so it was unusual enough at that time of day for an Orc to be out of the village, so she sent her Shears closer to get a better look at what – or, as it turned out, who – it was.

  She immediately recognized Kelerim, the half-Dwarf/half-Orc Blacksmith that had left her dungeon no more than two months ago, hoping to help the Orcish people with his new Blacksmithing skills – and to find his father that he just learned about from his unexpected half-brother, Razochek Bloodskull. She brought her flying construct down farther, only to see what appeared to be bloodstains on his torn shirt, accompanied by a look of extreme weariness on his face.

  “Sandra! *cough* I don’t know…if you can hear me…*cough*…need your help…” he said to no one in particular, before he collapsed to his knees, unable to go on any farther. Sandra immediately dispatched two of her Apes along with a Repair Drone from her dungeon, which was the closest force she had to him – the others were quite the distance away. One of the Apes physically carried the Drone because it didn’t move very fast, and as they sped away they were joined by a Jaguar Queen and Dire Wolf that she had on the constant prowl around her dungeon entrance.

  * Kelerim! What are you doing here – and what happened to you? *

  Kneeling down seemed to ease some of the pain and lying on his side seemed to ease it even more – enough that he was able to talk without much coughing. “Sandra! Thank goodness you heard me…I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean for any of this happen…” he managed to get out, before his body was wracked by another coughing fit and the Dungeon Core could see spots of blood on his hand that he used to cover his mouth.

  * I have help on the way, Kelerim – just stay awake until they arrive, which should hopefully be in a few minutes. Now, explain what happened. *

  Sandra was worried about her friend, but despite the wounds on his body – which apparently also included his lungs – he appeared to be hale enough to survive until her constructs arrived. Kelerim coughed once more, which seemed to help calm him a little, and he began talking softly, just slightly louder than a whisper.

  “I went to find my father, using the coinage you created for me or trading my skills to create fine blades to work my way to where the Bloodskull Family Compound was located. I had never been there before, and it was a lot larger than I had expected; it appeared as though my father was a much more powerful Warlord than I knew. It was then that I knew that I couldn’t just come out and pronounce myself his offspring; mainly it was because I was worried there were more there like my half-brother that would kill me as soon as they learned of my existence, but also because I couldn’t easily prove my claim.

  “I needed to see him, however, so I came up with a plan. After some time talking with the guards, then showing a few attendants of my father what I could offer with my Blacksmithing skills, I was finally granted an audience with the leader of the Bloodskull Family – my father – on the pretense of offering myself to his services. During the audience, I managed to convince my father of who I was by telling him what I knew about my mother, and he welcomed me with open arms.”

  He paused as a tear fell from his eye and he coughed again. “It…was everything I had ever dreamed of; having a family and a father who cared about me, feeling…loved, I guess. But that lasted all of fifteen minutes, when I couldn’t hold back the reason I needed to see him. I told him how I had met Razochek and learned of who I was, and how my half-brother tried to kill me.

  “My father wouldn’t believe that of his other son, however, and accused me of lying – and then calling for Razochek to come back and refute the claims. Then…and I’m not proud of this because I fear I’m a coward…I told him that a dungeon near Grongbak killed him instead of it being me. I…just couldn’t do it; I could sense at that point that if I told my father the truth, he would kill me. Instead, he put me under watch – not quite a captive, but unable to leave the Compound – while he assembled a small army of his people to go destroy the dungeon that had dared to kill his son.”

  That really doesn’t sound good. Her fears were only a little alleviated when Kelerim continued. “I didn’t tell him which dungeon, or even where it was located, so he doesn’t know it was you out here, but I don’t think that matters. When they learn of Razochek’s disappearance out in the wastelands, they’re sure to investigate; I can only assume that my father doesn’t know what happened before I even arrived because the Warbands still around here don’t want to be blamed for his death. That’ll probably change with an army that I estimated to be nearly 1,000 Orcs strong.”

  * Ok…but that doesn’t explain why you are here. *

  Another coughing fit interrupted his response, but he managed to get over it enough to answer. “I was able to escape from the Compound because I wasn’t technically under guard, but I was followed by one of my father’s retainers who tracked me down to approximately a dozen miles west of here. He captured me and told me he was bringing me back to my father, but I managed to swipe a knife from his belt and stab him deep in the gut before he could react; it wasn’t anything near a killing blow, unfortunately, and he enacted his revenge with his sword as I tried to escape, stabbing me shallowly a couple of times – including my chest.

  “The blood loss from the much deeper wound I inflicted on him slowed him down considerably, though, and I was able to flee; I managed to make it this far in desperation before my strength started to give out.”

  Kelerim’s voice started to get weaker and weaker, until the last part was just barely above a whisper. Fortunately, her constructs were already arriving, having run the entire way with the Repair Drone – which immediately went to work healing him.

  * Kelerim, you’re going to be fine, though likely tired until you get some rest and something to eat. Before my constructs bring you back to the safety of my dungeon, however, tell me this: how close is that Orcish army. *

  The half-Dwarf/half-Orc’s eyes started to drift close, as his wounds were being healed and the absence of pain made him drowsy after everything he had gone through. His exhaustion was plain to see in every part of his body, and the stress of his desperate flight was obviously catching up with him.

  “They’re…not far behind…” he was able to get out before his body and mind gave into the unconsciousness that it had been thre
atening to unleash upon him.

  Less than a minute later the healing was complete, and one of the Apes picked him up and slung him over its shoulder, while the one that had carried the Drone there did the same for the way back. They were still flanked by the Jaguar Queen and Dire Wolf as they started running back to her dungeon, though it was a little slower because they were carrying someone that probably wouldn’t appreciate being bounced around uncomfortably as they ran full-out.

  Kelerim, Felbar, and the Dwarves all arrived at approximately the same time at her dungeon, though her oldest friend – non-Fairy, at least – was shuffled down below immediately. Gerold assembled the weary Dwarves in the workshop, who looked around disinterestedly at their surroundings, only caring that it looked relatively safe.

  Felbar helped the young Dwarf out of the Deep Delver and Gerold addressed the crowd. “There is something that everyone needs to do before you go in. There is a sort of…tattoo…that needs to be applied before you can pass within, which will grant you safe passage throughout the entire…facility.” He was presenting them with half-truths, which didn’t really sit well with Sandra, but she had also impressed upon him on their journey across the wasteland the importance of having the Visitor’s Bond. She even asked him to offer the same special Bond that he himself had, with his embedded Energy Orbs in his palms, though she doubted any of them would take that deal when warned of the pain from it.

  He showed them his own hands and the gears on the palms, as well as the blue and black Orbs there. “This is a special…tattoo that not all of you will have; it’s normally just this little part here,” he continued, pointing to the bronze-colored gears surrounding the Orbs. “For the Shieldmen, however, I would recommend the…upgrade…like I have – though I will warn you that it is…hmm, how do I say this without scaring you…well, it’s the most painful experience you’ll ever have the pleasure of enduring, but it fortunately doesn’t last that long. The tattoo doesn’t normally hurt, but this process is a bit different.”