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

within the forest.  Of course, that was before the rise of the dungeon in the wastelands and its spreading influence that penetrated even to the capital.

Now, all he wanted to do was leave the perceived safety of the trees and get his goal accomplished.  Over the last week, his band of rebel Rangers, hunters, and Elites had cautiously worked their way through the dense forest to the north; the natural barrier dividing his homeland of Symenora from Orcrim was effective for a reason – because it took a lot of time, caution, and pure destructive power to survive.  He found it fortunate that only 2 of his hunters had been killed along the way; he grudgingly admitted that without the Elites that had arrived shortly before they were forced to flee, even more would’ve perished.

It came as a shock to Wyrlin to find out that he had never ventured farther than the fringes of the vast forest in all his years of exploring and killing dungeon monsters.  That was probably because all of the dungeons that surrounded their lands were within a few miles of the forest’s border; there was no point in venturing past their normal territories, as concentrating on culling was the most important part of his life.  In between where the dungeons were located, there were vast tracts of forest where normal beasts and creatures roamed and provided ample hunting prospects.  None of them were particularly dangerous, however, especially for an experienced Ranger.

Now he knew why they weren’t dangerous – because the dangerous ones had pushed them out from the center of the forest.

The width of the trees separating the Elven and Orcish (or even Gnomish) lands was relatively thin near the border with the wastelands, such as near Avensglen.  In that area, it didn’t grow wider than perhaps 8 or 9 miles; when you got farther inside of Symenora, like where they were trying to force their way through to the Orc lands, the forest was over a hundred miles thick.

In the center of that forest, where dungeons held little sway, was a breeding ground for powerful creatures and deadly beasts.  While Wyrlin had heard about it all growing up, actually traveling through the darker, older, and deadly trees was a different experience altogether.  He began to see where the differing dungeons he’d heard about got their inspiration for their monsters, as there was a virtual menagerie of different species that filled the forest unchecked by anything other than themselves.

There were beasts of all different species and shapes, reptilian creatures of different kinds, groups of flying animals that were straight out of a nightmare, giant bugs that skittered here and there along the dense foliage, and hundreds of other things that he sensed and caught glimpses of – but was unable to identify.  He and his people were strangely fortunate because, unlike the dungeon monsters he was so used to slaying, the various creatures they encountered were a bit more intelligent than the mindlessness of the beasts and slimes he had been culling just a few short weeks ago.  Most of the creatures could identify that the Elves represented a serious threat to them and left him and the others alone; if they didn’t move out of the way, they at least let them pass without attacking unless they were harassed first.

The ones that had trouble sensing that he and the others were a threat were the ones they had to worry about the most.  At least once an hour, an ambush would spring up around them as they passed through an area of the forest that appeared to be completely safe, and it was only through the applications of manipulated elemental energy from the Elven Elites that the majority of them had survived.  He felt bad that two hunters had been snatched up in the same ambush; over a dozen massive snakes that had jaws wide enough to swallow an Elf whole had descended from the trees, snatching up the two hunters as well as three Rangers.

Luckily, the rest of his crew had reacted fast enough to save the three Rangers, filling the giant snakes full of elemental energy-enhanced arrows and slung spells.  They were entirely paralyzed for almost half a day from the potent poison the snakes’ fangs had pumped full of their victims; after being carried for the rest of the day until they made a hasty camp, the three Rangers woke up the next day with haunted looks on their faces – as well as complete control of their bodies again.

That was the deadliest of the ambushes, though there were hundreds of little injuries along the way.  As much as he hated to admit he needed them, one of the robe-wearing Elite Elves that had barged in and took over his operation had access to Holy elemental energy; unlike what he expected from them based on his first impressions, the Elites all took good care of him and his group – and weren’t stingy on using their energy to help.

“Fyola and the others like to bluster and boast about their prowess, but they know we need you as much as you need us,” the Elite named Mercyll had told him privately.  He had just finished healing one of Wyrlin’s Rangers that had been badly mauled by a lion/hyena beast he’d never even heard coming.

Fyola was the name of the spokesperson he had met when they first showed up, and she certainly liked to rub it in his face that she was in charge whenever she could.  Most of the others had similar attitudes and treated him and the others like some sort of servants, or else children that they had to wrangle up so that they didn’t hurt themselves.  Mercyll seemed like a good sort, though, as the soft-spoken Elite seemed to genuinely care about them.

“And why is that?” Wyrlin asked.  “It seems like you are all powerful enough to