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let them meet their end without a name.

Let’s see. The Soul Bard’s other names. Ah, yes.

Unnamed Kobold 1 is now named Dylan

Unnamed Kobold 2 is now named Karson

Unnamed Kobold 3 is now named Tarius

Now that was done, there was only one more thing a dungeon core could do at a time like this; create monsters, puzzles, and traps.

With Shadow having used her scout skills to sense the Seekers approaching the northern surface door, and with the Wrotun sure to attack soon, I didn’t have much time. And time is an ally to a dungeon core.

The absence of it meant that once I used all my essence, I wouldn’t have the luxury of waiting for it to regenerate. I had to be economical about this.

So, I had 450 essence points to spend. What would give me the maximum carnage for the lowest cost?

After thinking about it, my first action was to visit the room near the surface door. I hopped to the pedestal point there, and I faced the riddle door. The kobold-language riddle was still in effect, and I was confident the Seekers wouldn’t guess it, since none of the last party had made it out of here alive.

Here was the thing. The riddle door presented an obstacle, and once a seeker solved it, they would feel a sense of relief.

Therefore, the best place to put a hidden pitfall was right behind it.

At a cost of 100 essence points, I created a thirty-feet deep pitfall directly behind the door.

Next, I had a couple of Brecht’s kobolds fetch a little surprise that I had been saving. Well, surprises, I guess. There was more than one.

See, when I had deconstructed the goblin party, I hadn’t used all their bodies. No, I had ordered Brecht to sever their heads. And now, I had him place these heads all around the room, so that the seekers would see them when they entered the dungeon. It might not affect their more seasoned warriors, but it would scare the crap out of their rookies.

Finally, I employed a little trap that was known around the academy as The Heroes’ Temptation. For this, I needed to be in my loot room, the largest room in the whole dungeon.

Here, I had already crafted a loot chest, but there was nothing in it. I now crafted a Trick Lever puzzle right next to it. This was just three long levers set into the ground.

Normally, pulling the right lever would open a door or something like that, and using the wrong lever would summon a demon or some bloodthirsty dungeon creature.

By placing the levers next to an empty loot chest, I was implying that pulling the right lever would fill the chest with loot. Now, I knew that the Seekers weren’t here for that, but the underlying psychology would work.

This was the Heroes’ Temptation; when a person finds a loot chest underground, they want the treasure. Doesn’t matter what they were originally there for. If they see a lever, they want to pull it. People are stupid.

After creating the levers I had 225 essence points left. Since my full dungeon capacity meant I couldn’t create any new creatures, I had to settle for more pitfalls. I made two of them, both right next to the loot chest and hidden, but linked to the levers. When the greedy Seekers pulled the levers, they’d have an unpleasant surprise.

That was as much as I could do on short notice. Fake tunnels, an anti-seeker squad with health replenishing vampiric dust, and a whole load of ooze-sprouting fungi. I just had to hope it would be enough.

CHAPTER 26

Reginal’s bowels always felt loose right before a raid. He hadn’t been here on the last one, trusting Jagorga the bard to lead a team into the caverns. Jagorga hadn’t come back, and everyone knew what that meant.

But they were the Eternals, and they wouldn’t give up trying to claim back their home. The clue was in their name.

Now, he and a dozen of their best warriors assembled by the surface door, and they had a secret weapon. Tavia, the Wrotun trap maker, a girl who knew the tunnels better than even Reginal himself because she had seen the new passageways they had made. She knew where the traps were, except the ones that the damned core would have created.

It also meant he could abandon his barbaric practice of sending human slaves into traps. Reginal had never liked doing it, but it had been a necessity.

So he tried to ignore the pressing urge to make toilet for the fifth time that morning, and he addressed his people.

“I can feel it in my gut today, my friends,” he told his warriors.

“You always feel it in your gut, chief.”

“No, not that. I feel this is our time. Tavia will guide us to the heart of our home, through the deceiving tunnels they have made, past the traps they have sprung for us. We will take back what is ours. No mercy, for they would show us none. Spare nobody who raises a blade to you.”

“Er, chief,” said Tavia.

“Ah, yes. Our agreement. Men, women, proud Eternals warriors. You will spare any Wrotun who surrender. Any who willingly leaves our home will not taste our steel.”

One goblin warrior nudged the archer beside him. “He always gets like this before a raid. Speaks like he’s a general in the king's army, or something. Big words, and using that loud chief voice.”

A few of them laughed, and Reginal didn’t rebuke them. Let them have whatever good humor they can muster. They’ll need their spirits today.

He placed his hand on the ground. Energy coursed through him, and he felt a faint trembling of mana. Reginal was no mage, but he was the chief of the Eternals, and this was their rightful home, and the

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