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

kill everything in this forest without us, so why do you need us?”  He didn’t bother to confirm that he and his people needed the Elites, because it was more than obvious by that point.

“Because we heard what happened to Porthel and his group inside of the dungeon we’re going to destroy. A full accounting of what happened to them wasn’t made available to all of us, but we do know one thing above all else: they barely survived.  We’re not exactly sure what they did to survive, of course, though based on how they are now working with the dungeon, we suspect they were somehow manipulated in some way.  Based on the fact that they barely survived, and that, admittedly,” the Elite looked to make sure none of the others were around, before dropping his voice even more, “we aren’t nearly as powerful as Porthel and his team is, we need all the help we can get.  Even with all of us, there’s a very good possibility that most of us won’t come back from this journey.”

Wyrlin was oddly happy to hear that the others weren’t as confident in their success as they made themselves seem.  To know that they weren’t all-powerful and needed him and his people made him feel a bit better; a few times during their perilous trek through the forest, he had felt nearly useless and that the Elites were just dragging them along out of some sort of misplaced responsibility.  Regardless, it still thoroughly annoyed him that Fyola had taken over his group and pushed him out of the way, so he wouldn’t mind it if she were one of the ones that didn’t come back from the destruction of the dungeon.

“Treeline is up ahead, what are your orders?” Ferio came out of practically nowhere to appear near his side.  Wyrlin was just about to answer when he realized the older Ranger was looking at Fyola – and not him.  A quick side-eye and a shrug from Ferio did little to assuage his sudden flare-up of anger, though not at the Ranger; there wasn’t much that any of them could do against the sheer destructive power of the Elites, so Ferio – like everyone else – had to conform to the new command structure or suffer for it.  Even the other two Elites that Wyrlin had recruited previously – who were noticeably younger and likely new to their positions – obeyed the older Elite squad without question.

“We’ll stick to just within the treeline here, as it should be relatively safe; at most, we’ll see some dungeon monsters from any nearby dungeons we pass on the way to the wastelands.  If you see any Orcs, don’t engage with them; we’re technically passing through their lands and we do not want to start an incident.  No fires, no noise; if you all can handle that, we should be at the dungeon in less than a week.”

Ferio just nodded and started skulking through the edge of the forest, followed by all the rest of the Rangers and hunters.  No one argued, which disappointed Wyrlin a little because he wanted someone to argue with Fyola; however, her idea made sense, so it was probably a good thing that no one objected.  With a sigh, he followed the others, noting with a little amusement that Fyola and the other robe-wearing Elites were the ones making the most noise as they moved through the undergrowth.  The only reason they had originally snuck up on him and Ferio back at his camp was because of a wasteful use of Air-based elemental energy, the spell of which they cast blocked any sound from carrying more than 5 feet from their bodies.

Now, though, they were conserving their energy in case it was really needed, which he was appreciative of. Since they were technically in “enemy” territory, despite not actually being at war with the Orcs, they needed to be prepared in case something came up.  None of them had actually been to Orcrim, even the uppity Elites, so they didn’t have a clue what to expect.

A few hours into their travels, darkness started to descend on the treeline, making it more difficult to navigate.  All of them had enough experience roaming through their own familiar forests that they probably could’ve kept going if they were there; since they were in unfamiliar and uncharted territory, they didn’t want to take a chance they would run into something out of the ordinary.  Therefore, Fyola called a halt and they made a hasty but secure camp; it soon became a bit colder than was comfortable, however. Because they didn’t start a fire so as not to attract notice, there were grumbles throughout the camp; the Elites were actually the worst of the lot, as they were used to their comforts a little more than the rugged Rangers and hunters that Wyrlin’s crew was composed of.

During the night, when the cold was the worst within the shade of the trees, Fyola scream-whispered in frustration and used her Fire elemental energy to start a small fire, which she then used to heat up the outside of some large boulders nearby.  After about 10 minutes of concentrated heat – and likely most of her energy – the boulders had heated up so much that they glowed faintly, giving off quite a bit of heat even 20 feet away.  Wyrlin was thankful enough for the heat, but he was worried that she had inadvertently caused them to be spotted by the Orcs.  Fortunately, the glow was very faint and faded over the next couple of hours, and no one saw or noticed anything out of the ordinary.

It was two hours into the next day’s trek through the forest that his worry came true.

They had been walking carefully through the underbrush of the forest, using all of their skill to avoid walking on anything that might make