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

“Remarkable,” said Bolton. He looked fascinated by the place, but he hadn’t moved. Given his vast experience, he knew enough not to just blunder around a core’s central chamber. He waved his hands in the air. A pale light gathered on his fingertips, then spread out through the room like trap-seeking fairies.

“No traps,” said. He took a step forward. “What do you think, Beno? What era would you say this dungeon was made in?”

Here we go, I thought. Bolton loved to test me. He loved to see me struggle for an answer and get it wrong. It was a power play.

“This isn’t the academy anymore. You’re not my teacher, and you don’t have to quiz me.”

“Quiz? I’m asking you as a colleague.”

Colleague. Wow. I was weirdly touched by that.

Pity I didn’t have a damned clue which era it came from.

I thought about making up the name of an era. Then, when Bolton told me there was no such thing, I’d double down on my lies and act confident. That seemed to be the way to get people to believe you.

But I was done lying to Bolton to make myself look better. I mean, I wouldn’t have lied to Gulliver. I wouldn’t lie to Tomlin, Wylie, Shadow. Why should I let Bolton have so much power in my mind? Why did I always try to make myself look good in front of him?

“You know, I didn’t really choose to come here,” I said.

“Oh?”

“What I told you before, about seeking this place out. That’s not exactly how it happened. Riston chased me out of my dungeon. I couldn’t stop him. He has control over everything. The town, the people in it. And me…well, I lost control.”

“I know.”

“What?”

“Do you think I was born yesterday, Beno? Well, I wasn’t. I was born a long, long time ago, actually, and I’ve learned a few things about people’s natures. What they say, what they hold back. I knew there was more to this from the way you’ve been acting.”

I said nothing.

“But at least you seem to be over whatever was making you behave like such an idiot and lie to an overseer,” said Bolton.

We pressed on through the chamber, finally finding the core itself.

It was resting on a marble podium in the center of the chamber. It was shaped like a trident with the shaft snapped off, and colored oil black. It had little golden runes carved all across its body. This core thought it was fancy. It thought it was really something. Then again, it really was a much swankier-looking core than me. Except for one thing: its body was covered in cracks.

Bolton walked a circle around it. He crouched down. He took out a magnifying lens. He tried to cup it and turn away from me, as if to hide it.

Looked to me like Bolton’s eyesight was fading, and he was too vain to just get some spectacles. Bloody hell. We’d been through the same thing with his balding hair, a while ago. Turned out that I wasn’t the only one who tried to look good in front of people.

Gazing at the core, I could sense a few things.

This core had been draining from the black essence. Just as I had. As such, it had been chipping away at its core purity, and that explained all the little cracks. This moron had drained so much black essence that it was close to falling apart.

Secondly, it didn’t have much essence stored inside it right now. A core can always tell when a fellow core is empty. Kind of like if one human could look at another and tell they were tired. Like if there were physical giveaways such as big, dark bags under their eyes or…

Well, I suppose humans can do that. The point stands.

This core wouldn’t be able to conjure any traps or monsters. It was defenseless.

“Beno,” said a voice.

It wasn’t Bolton. He was busy examining the podium that supported the core. Blowing the dust off it, trying to decipher what looked like writing, but had mostly faded.

I knew at once that it was using its core voice to speak to me. Bolton hadn’t indicated that he’d heard.

He drummed his index finger on his chin. “Looks dormant. It’s been draining black essence for too long, see? Damn it. I’d hope to find it while it was still…never mind.”

“You’re observant,” I said.

“Let’s see what these runes say.” It was only seconds before Bolton was completely consumed with deciphering the core’s golden runes.

“Beno,” the core said again.

It knew my name. This core was more powerful than I thought. It must have read my mind, and used that to find out my name. That meant I would have to be very, very careful. This kind of psychic power…

I answered it using my core voice. “How do you know my name?”

“You and your friends talk very loudly. You haven’t shut up since you arrived in my dungeon.”

“Oh. Right. Yes.”

“You have come to end me,” it said.

“We’re here for answers,” I replied. “And to stop what’s going on. I mean, come on. What’s with the bloody insects who copy themselves when you hit them? Care to explain? Even better, teach me how to make them! And I have to say, the whole wraith thing is a very tacky move. Not very becoming of a core. We can create our own monsters. We don’t stoop to turning civilized folks into dungeon creatures.”

“I have to show you something,” said the core.

“You know my name. What’s yours?”

“They call me Wreithintzo. Or Reith, for short. My good friends used to…they used to call me…Ray. I have no friends now, Beno. It’s has been too long for that. Too much has passed. But I would like to be called by that name