The Crafter's Darkness: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 4) Jonathan Brooks (best smutty novels TXT) 📖

wanted to age it.  She could’ve made it approximately a year instead of a month, but both Glencha and Teving professed they’d rather be able to adjust the aging time in case 4 years and 7 months tasted better than 5 years of aging, or other such examples.

The best part of it all was that, despite their reluctance to rely on an enchantment to speed up the time-honored tradition of aging their liquor for years, they whole-heartedly approved of the taste.  Even Teving, who didn’t care for Whiskey as much as Ale, said that it was passable, which got him a friendly-yet-powerful punch in the shoulder by his girlfriend.

The successful solution to their problem wasn’t limited to aging Whiskey and Ale, however. It also gave her an idea for defensive purposes in her dungeon, and for a trap that she could set up manually – without the use of Mana.  Even better, since she wasn’t technically using Mana for it, the usual strict rules of not placing traps inside of tunnels didn’t necessarily apply….

Chapter 33

After the excitement of the Whiskey being done and the experiment that resulted in the creation of the Aging Field, the rest of the morning and afternoon was relatively uneventful.  The incoming Mana she was absorbing from around her Area of Influence was nearly 43,000 every hour, which came from her 2 Nets that she had stopped expanding, and from the constructs and Dungeon Monsters she created that were helping the Dwarves and Elves protect themselves.  Even if they were standing, sitting, or floating still, waiting for a command, they still actively funneled in Mana, even if it were at a smaller rate than if they were roaming around.  Because of that, she used at least 20,000 of her Mana to create additional Monsters for both peoples, in the shape of Mechanical Dire Wolves and Jaguar Queens, Roaring Blademasters, Steelclad Ape Warriors, and Titanium Anacondas.

In addition, she was able to fully supply each remaining Ranger – only 39 of them now – with an additional Wyvine, so that they now had a pair of helpers to help with their culling.  Not that there was much culling going on, because all 4 Dungeon Cores were quiet, without a single Monster peeping out of any of their entrances.  That could mean any number of things, though; the Cores could be biding their time and building up an even larger army in order to break the siege the Elves and Dwarves were forcing on them, or they could be hoarding all of their Mana in order to upgrade their Core Size again, or any number of other things she probably couldn’t even comprehend.

Any insight on what they could be doing?

“I have no idea,” Winxa replied.  “Tactics was never really my specialty, and in my experience the minds of these Dungeon Cores can range from slightly delusional to highly paranoid and beyond.  It would be hard to predict what they would do even if I had an idea, and even if I did…well, I’m not sure if I’d be able to share that information with you.”

That was probably true, as the Dungeon Fairy would suffer from a severe smackdown by the Creator.  It was unfortunate and unfair to Sandra and inordinately cruel to Winxa, who was only doing her job, but that was the way it was.  There was no changing the circumstances and they had yet to find a way around it.

There was movement in her Area of Influence, however, though it was in a completely different place from where her attention had been over the last few days.  It seemed as though the Orcs might actually be willing to bargain.

*        *        *

The sun was getting low in the sky when Perchunk ran towards her as Furbrea was emerging from the supply hut, a small assortment of meat, fruit, potatoes, and bread in her arms that she was bringing for everyone to cook for that night’s dinner.  They had practically gorged themselves the first night after all of the food and other supplies had been delivered, until they all fell asleep satisfied but slightly ill from the quantity they had consumed.

Now, they still ate healthily – with better fare than many had ever partaken of in their lives – and Furbrea regulated the amount that was used every day to allow their supplies to last longer, but no one complained because they were always full enough without being uncomfortable.  With the quantity of fresh food at their disposal, it was tempting even for her to gorge on what they had, but after a few days of knowing that it was there and available at any time, the desire to eat as much as she could faded.  Since the Elf had followed through with her side of the bargain, Furbrea had little doubt that the supplies would keep coming.

As long as there was something to show for it on their parts, of course.  Which was quickly becoming an issue, as nearly a week had passed since they had sent out their younger, heartier members still in their village to find Warbands that were interested in trading some of their members for better equipment.  Furbrea had expected at least one of them to be successful by that time, but as the days passed with nothing to show for their efforts, she had to conclude that they had failed.  Either those that they sent out abandoned their tasks, were killed somehow, or none of the Warbands they encountered believed them.

“There appears to be a Warband coming, Furbrea!” Perchunk shouted as he ran towards her, barely stopping himself before he crashed into her.

Finally!  “Here, ‘Chunk, take these to the central fire for me.” She handed the food to Perchunk, who dropped a few of the potatoes on the way, but Furbrea ignored that as she hurried herself through the village from where she saw the young