Dungeon Core Academy: Books 1-7 (A LitRPG Series) Alex Oakchest (list of ebook readers .TXT) đź“–
- Author: Alex Oakchest
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“We should never have come down here! Riston wouldn’t have tried buying our vote by dragging us into a battle!”
“Riston is a stupid git. He’s only been in Yondersun for two months, and you all love him! Why’s that? Ah, forget it. Come on.”
The traders skirted around the loot chamber and headed for the exit.
Big mistake.
Ulruk focused on them.
Before I could even think about thinking, he clipped one trader’s arm with the hammer, spinning him around. The trader shrieked in pain.
And then came the truth.
“I sometimes sit down to pee, as a treat!” he said, and then covered his mouth in shock.
Ulruk focused on Baby, hammer arm tensed.
As he reached him and swung, Baby pushed another trader into the weapon’s path.
The trader tripped over a bone and fell. The hammer smashed into Baby’s chest, knocking the wind out of him.
Slouched against the wall, it was all he could do to groan. Light swirled around him.
Here we go, I thought. Another confession about peeing or drinking tea or something just as mundane.
“I never intended to vote for Beno,” said Baby. “I just came here for the food.”
Anger flashed through me.
There it was. Another human emotion leaking into my supposedly emotionless mind. It was happening more and more, like a leaky tap getting worse. If only plumbers existed for mind leaks.
“Now we get to the truth of it,” I said. “You talk about trust and such crap, and yet you come into my dungeon, accept my hospitality, and lie to me the whole time.”
“Lie? Ulruk will show you the truth!” shouted the hero.
“Shut up, Ulruk.”
“Ulruk will-”
“He will shut up! I’m tired of you, Ulruk. Let’s end this.”
Ulruk was more than a match for my dungeon creatures. He’d proven that by reaching the loot chamber when the rest of his party were dead. I could use essence to conjure more monsters, but that wouldn’t help. As the old saying goes, you don’t put out a fire by throwing more fluffy kittens onto it.
A core has to know when to adapt.
Instead of summoning a monster, I decided that a trap would shut Ulruk up.
Gathering my energies in my mind, I concentrated and willed a trap into being.
Trap created: Jaws of Devouring Silence.
Essence remaining: 2010 / 4010
A tiny set of teeth and gums materialized on the ground near Ulruk. The hero paused, stroking his chin.
“Is this a joke, core?” he said.
With each word, the set of teeth grew larger.
“Ah, magic, is it?”
The teeth grew larger still. The reached up to his knees now.
“Never mind. Ulruk will show them the truth.”
They grew up to his chest.
“Ulruk has delivered the true word to dungeons greater than this, and he will…”
The teeth, now as tall as Ulruk, opened wide and chomped on him. He screamed, but he wasn’t screaming the truth anymore. Unless you could call intense agony a kind of truth.
Half of him was hanging out of the teeth, half of him had disappeared inside. He was kicking his legs like a puppy trying to swim. The teeth wouldn’t let go. The traders, their faces the color of anemic ghosts, were too scared to move.
The teeth chomped once, twice, three times, grinding Ulruk’s flesh and bones until his screams stopped.
When Ulruk was dead the teeth disappeared, leaving nothing behind but the grisly remains of a pulped, half-eaten hero.
And his hammer, of course.
“All you had to do was close your mouth, and they wouldn’t have grown,” I said. “Stupid hero. Sometimes the truth is best left unspoken. Shadow, are you hurt?” I said.
“Winded, Beno. I’ll be okay.”
“Take the Hammer of Truth to the inventory store, please. The rest of you, take care of the wounded.”
“Yes, Dark Lord!”
One kobold pointed at Tomlin, who was still up against the wall, as though he was glued to it. “Tomlin didn’t help us! He’s a coward!”
I didn’t say anything for a second. Everyone was looking at Tomlin, and I knew it wouldn’t do his reputation any favors if I spoke up for him. Especially if I did it in front of Shadow.
Come on, Tomlin. Stand up for yourself….
He said nothing.
The kobolds laughed. “Go and play with your flowers, Tomlin.”
“Yeah, go and…”
“Enough!” I thundered, my voice dripping with venom. As much venom as the voice of a dungeon core could hold, anyway. We always tend to sound quite tinny.
It was enough to shut them up.
“This is a dungeon, not a playground. We do not mock each other.”
“You mock us all the time, Dark Lord.”
“That is different, you little…forget it. Tomlin, you have cultivation work to do.”
“Yes, Dark Lord.”
“The rest of you will show respect to our longest-serving kobold.”
“Serving? Serving how? Tomlin doesn’t fight.”
“Think carefully what you say next, young kobold,” I said. “I created you just last week. You haven’t earned the right to talk back to Tomlin or me. In any other dungeon, you’d have been burned alive and your ashes fed to a goat for such insolence.”
“Sorry, Dark Lord.”
“That’s better. Now, clean this place up.”
Tomlin left through a tunnel that led to the cultivation room. As our head essence cultivator, leading five trainee cultivators, Tomlin was one of the most important creatures in my lair. I just wished he’d grow a spine.
Ah, well. I had other things to think about.
The traders looked like they’d rather be anywhere else in the world except here. It also seemed like taking even the slightest step would require more bravery than they could conjure in a thousand years.
Finally, Baby found a shred of courage. He pointed at me. “You’re
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