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

Yes, there would come a time where their bodies were weakened to the point of being useless, yet the mana would keep their minds active. They would be trapped in their fleshy prisons.

The young leaves, like the Webb boy, would go if they had any sense. And yet, what would happen then to the older leaves like Godwin? Like Galatee, who was beginning to show signs of mana weakness?

When the first and second leaves’ bodies weakened until they were as much use as ooze, who would keep the Wrotun society in motion? Who would cultivate the underground crops, mend the houses?

This was the future that first-leaf Godwin saw for his people. Doomed by addiction to immortality.

Unless…

Unless he was prepared to do something else.

Godwin had first tried to persuade his people about his theory, and see if he could convince them to leave the cavern. He had called a meeting to discuss it, yet had barely gotten into the beginning of explaining when he began to sense that this wouldn’t go well.

He could see it on his people’s faces. As he began to talk about the dangers of immortality, standing there in front of them like a preacher, he saw flickers of anger and disgust on their faces.

He knew it then. They were all addicted to it. They would oust Godwin himself before they left the mana springs behind.

So, he ended the meeting abruptly, and he took a different tack. From then on, First-Leaf wore a disguise. He presented himself as a tyrant beginning to lose his mind, a paranoid leader who saw danger everywhere.

He began banishing people from the cavern. It didn’t matter what the reason was; all he had to do was proclaim them to be traitors to the mana springs, and the masses would stand with him.

Every person that the First-Leaf banished, he considered a life saved. They would go to the surface and travel, finding somewhere else to live where there was no addiction to mana.

This was hardly a long-term solution though, was it? He couldn’t banish everyone.

So now, he was reaching the beginning of the final stage of his idea. An idea that began with Galatee purchasing two little cores. The cores would be the end of the Wrotun settling here, if First-Leaf’s plan worked.

CHAPTER 11

I had the beginnings of a plan to deal with my visitors, and it involved more improvisation than a goblin jazz band playing in a back-alley tavern.

Shadow and I trailed the goblin party, getting as close to them as we dared. I realized that although the goblins had a novel way of disarming traps, they had little knowledge of traps themselves, nor the tunnels. They had no map, no direction. Their eyes were open, but they were blind.

Now, I knew for certain that I didn’t have the resources to defeat this party in a fight. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to.

I pulled up my map and pumped .1 essence into it so that Shadow could see it.

“Fascinating,” she said. “I can picture a map like this in my mind, and it’s amazing how similar they are. Ah, a door to the surface is north of us. Maybe I should go and check it, to make sure it is secure?”

“Nice try. Permission denied.”

Our location was displayed halfway between the surface door and the core room. The goblins were currently navigating a winding tunnel that ran parallel to ours.

I pointed to one end of the tunnel, the opening that the party had already walked through. “Can you take me there?”

Shadow grunted in assent. She was getting a little tired of carrying me around, and who could blame her? It didn’t help that I tend to whistle when I think really hard, and I can hold as much of a tune as a deaf badger falling into a box of broken accordions.

Two minutes later, we reached the tunnel entrance. Ahead of me, I could make out the vague shape of the human who had been sent to his death, stumbling through the passageway until a trap of some kind – I couldn’t see what – parted him from his life.

“Poor guy, sent forward as trap fodder.”

“As a core, you placed these traps, no?”

“I can’t take credit for this kill, as much as it would boost my legend a little.”

“Even so, you have sympathy for this man?”

“A spider can still feel bad for the flies caught in his web. As it happens, this wasn’t my web, since I didn’t place the trap. Besides, the human didn’t walk through the tunnel willingly, and I prefer some sport mixed with my slaughter.”

“You want to follow them?” asked Shadow.

“No, we’re done with that. We know that this tunnel runs for around twenty minutes’ walk, and they’re halfway through it. We need to be quick.”

Focusing on the tunnel opening, I gave a command.

Create riddle door.

110 essence points left me, and a web of light appeared over the tunnel, gradually forming into the shape of a door. It was made from dull iron, and it had a bull’s head for a knocker.

Riddle door created!

Essence: 195/380

The bull spoke to me now. “It’s a dungeon core! What a bore. He looks so dumb, it makes me glum.”

Shadow stepped forward before I could say a word. “You dare talk to your core this way?”

I was surprised that the kobold escape artist had defended me, given she had only reluctantly accepted her place here in the dungeon. Truth be told, I knew that she hadn’t stopped plotting to escape. That’s the thing with escape artists, you see; you can’t trust them.

The riddle door yawned, spreading its bullish mouth wide. I knew better than to get into an argument with it. Disputes with riddle