Dungeon Core Academy: Books 1-7 (A LitRPG Series) Alex Oakchest (list of ebook readers .TXT) 📖

I sprinted toward the nearest wolf, made sure of my target, and then raised my weapon.

Yelling, I stabbed the sword through its back.

Backstab damage!

The tip of the silver sword sizzled through fur and flesh, penetrating deep into the wolf. The damage would have been bad enough, but Shadow’s backstab skill magnified it, and the wolf let out such a wolf that even the moon would have plugged its ears.

It fell face first and was still.

Just like that. Gone.

There was no time to celebrate; I still had to save Shadow. I darted toward Rusty just as his totem pumped its last fireball and the light around it extinguished.

“Plant another one,” I told him.

“No mana!”

“Then get back!”

I crossed through the tunnel archway and then sprinted twenty yards away from the poison chamber, getting Shadow as far out of danger as I could before my core control energy depleted.

The lurch which carried me back to my core body was disorientating, and at first, it was like I was waking from a dream. I knew I was back on my pedestal in the core room, but at the same time, it took my mind a second to catch up to the fact.

“Impressive,” said Gulliver, staring at me while not taking his hand away from his book page, which was filed with writing. “Your kobold Shadow is quite the warrior.”

Of course – Gulliver wouldn’t have known that I used Core Control on Shadow. Now wasn’t the time to correctly adjust the aim of his praise.

“We’re not done yet. I have another two wolves to tame.”

Without the fire totem pinning them back, and having escaped significant injury from it, the other canines now had a free run at the tunnel that led out of the poison chamber, at which point they could run rampant.

The poison converter was pumping tainted silver into the air, but it was having hardly any effect due to the tunnel archway allowing it to vent out. Keeping the wolves confined was still my best bet. But how?

The beasts, with charred chests and odd patches of burned fur, saw their means of escape now.

I couldn’t allow that. As soon as they hit the tunnels, the advantage turned to their side despite me having killed one of them.

I needed to think. The next second might define my whole dungeon reign.

Got it!

Riddle door created.

110 essence points used [Total: 388/615]

An iron door appeared at the tunnel entry, sealing the poison chamber once again.

“Set riddle,” I said, plucking one of the thousands of riddles I memorized in the academy from my brain. “The more you take, the more you leave behind. What am I?”

The riddle door knocker, shaped like a chicken, clucked in a way that sounded like it was laughing. “Footsteps.”

With the riddle door locking the wolves in the chamber, I breathed a sigh of relief. Metaphorically, given my lack of lungs.

I looked at Gulliver. “The chamber is sealed, and the silver poison will accumulate until the werewolves meet the canine version of the Grim Reaper. The Grim Rover, you might say.”

He didn’t laugh.

“After the popular dog name, Rover.”

Gulliver scribbled something in his book.

“Anyway, in their bestial state, they aren’t capable of guessing the riddle and thus are trapped. One of the drawbacks of the werewolf transformation, I’m afraid. Core Beno wins again,” I said.

“Core Beno might want to check his dungeon before he bakes himself a party cake.”

“Arses. Big, hairy troll arses. Is this never going to end?” I said.

One of the werewolves must have leaped out of the room in the split-second I created the riddle door, and now it was tearing through the tunnel and heading deeper into my dungeon, leaving its comrade behind to suffocate in the chamber.

“Marvelous creatures, really,” said Gulliver. “I won’t like to meet one, but to see one like this…an experience few can boast.”

The beast ran with its head ducked and its arms out wide, claws ready, its thigh muscles twitching with each meter it progressed.

“Wylie,” I said. “A hell pooch is heading down the tunnel toward you. Stick to the shadows, let it pass, then stick your silver sword in its rump.”

I cast my core vision into the room, displaying an image of the tunnel in question.

The werewolf’s speed was frightening. I didn’t think Wylie was quick enough to strike it as it passed him, but his sword was the best chance to end this before it got worse.

The beast was just ten meters from Wylie and Gary now, who waited on the corner, where the werewolf would have to turn.

“Get ready…” I said. “Stay calm.”

“Telling people to stay calm has been proven to induce anxiety,” said Gulliver.

The wolf got closer.

“It’s almost there…” I said.

Wylie turned to Gary. “You kill.”.

“Wylie, what are you doing? It’s almost on you!” I said.

Gary grabbed the silver sword with one of his leech legs, wrapping his sinew around it and wielding it in the same way I’d imagine an octopus would hold a baguette.

The wolf, sprinting at a speed only an intense fury could allow, turned the corner…

…and planted itself directly into the tip of a silver sword wielded by a spider-troll-leech monstrosity.

It gave a howl so great that my dungeon passageways echoed with it. The sound reverberated through every tunnel, every chamber, every room, until I heard it even in the core room. With its canine timbre, it was like a ballad sung by the leader of a wolf pack the eve after a battle, lamenting on all it had lost.

“Beautiful, in a sad kind of way,” said Gulliver.

“Sorry, chap,” said Gary, and thrust the sword deeper until the werewolf’s legs collapsed under it, and its arms hung at its side. He withdrew the sword and let the werewolf