Dungeon Core Academy 2

by Alex Oakchest

  “A room? Right beside the surface door?” said Warrane. “This leaf wonders if that is wise.”

  “Not right next to it. I still want a twenty-feet long tunnel leading from the surface door to my new room. I take it the tunnel near the door is laced with traps?”

  “Tavia believed it was the best place; it would mean that Seekers are besieged by traps when they enter.”

  “It would have been my first thought, too.”

  “Tavia is very clever. Cleverer than this leaf.”

  “I want to meet this elusive Tavia.”

  “She will be back soon, Core Beno. The First-Leaf sent her out to scavenge. All leaves must do this sometimes.”

  “You like her, don’t you Warrane?”

  “This leaf has digging to do.”

  I laughed. “Fine. Let me know when the room is ready.”

  By happy coincidence, the room was finished just as my essence replenished. It hadn’t taken long. Not only were Wylie and his crew excellent miners, especially under Warrane’s supervision, but Tomlin had really done a great job cultivating essence vines.

  After crafting a pedestal point in the room nearest the surface door, way, way north in the dungeon, I hopped there.

  This was a thirty-foot square excavation, with only two tunnels in it. One was the tunnel leading from the surface door. The other went deeper into the dungeon. I planned that this room would serve as the first test for the Seekers.

  “Puzzle time,” I said aloud, to nobody, since I was completely alone.

  Puzzles

  Floor Tile Patterns [Cost 250]

  Riddle Doors [Cost 110]

  Trick Levers[Cost 125]

  Transmutation Station [Cost 500]

  I still had no idea what a transmutation station was. I’d earned the ability to craft it when I reached level 5, but I still didn’t have enough damn essence.

  Forgetting that for the time being, I spent 250 essence on a floor tile puzzle. It spread out on the ground, a 20 x 20 set of different colored floor tiles that covered the room.

  Next, I pulled up my trap list.

  Beartrap [Cost 50 ]

  Pitfall [Cost 100 ]

  Pressure Switch [Cost 50 ]

  Poisoned darts [Cost 250 ]

  Here was the fun part. I had 200 essence left, so I crafted four separate pressure switches, and I commanded these to go under 4 of the floor tiles.

  Next, I set a vampiric dart trap. Here was where having an alchemy chamber came in handy; at 250 essence points, crafting a poisoned dart trap was expensive. Right now I could only make one at once, and I’d have to wait for my essence to recharge. Meanwhile, I wouldn’t be able to make anything else.

  Since I had made my darts using the alchemy chamber, it had become a lot more economically viable to have more of them, and all it had cost me was 15 essence for a leech, and 5 pieces of metal Wylie that had mined for me.

  I sensed I was only scratching the surface of what the alchemy chamber could really do, but it was a start.

  Now, I set the vampiric iron darts in the walls and linked them to the pressure switches using essence.

  Done! One floor tile puzzle laced with vampiric darts. When the seekers reached this room, they would have to solve the puzzle and step on the correct tiles, or they would get an arse full of leech-powered iron spikes.

  But that wasn’t all. What kind of dungeon core would I be if I left it there?

  “Gary?” I said. I used my inner core voice now, which allowed me to talk to my created monsters from across the dungeon. “Could you meet me in the northernmost room, please?”

  Soon enough, I heard a squelching sound. Eight squelching sounds, in fact, one after another, getting closer and closer until there he was – spider-leech Gary, with his gooey, teeth-lined legs, his hulking frame made of stone, and his bulging half-dozen eyes.

  “Ah, Core Beno! I had expected you would be too busy to talk to little old me today.”

  “I have a job for you, Gary.”

  “Good, Good. You must have finished the loot room. This isn’t it, is it?”

  “No. I’ve decided on a different job for you in this dungeon. See, common dungeon sense dictates that you save the toughest surprises for last. You know, hit the heroes when they’re weakest.”

  “A sensible tactic. Warfare at its finest, if I may say so. I do so enjoy tearing a man limb from limb just when he sees victory in his grasp.”

  “This dungeon is a little different, and I need to plan my defenses differently. I’m going to station you here, Gary.”

  He looked around now, his several eyes wide and unblinking. It was a disconcerting sight, let me tell you. And I was the one who had created him. He truly had a face even his creator couldn’t love, the poor guy.

  “Here?” he said. His voice sounded wounded. “In the very first room of the dungeon?”

  I understood why he sounded so down about it. I tried to think of it from his point of view.

  Have you ever done that? Tried to see things from the point of view of a giant stone spider with leeches for legs? It gives you an entirely new outlook on life.

  Thinking along those lines, I guessed this would feel like a demotion for Gary. He had been created as a boss monster, as a centerpiece of a dungeon. The final, monstrous creature who the heroes had to face. And now, well now he was at the front of the dungeon.

  “So I am to be the maître-d of the dungeon?” he said. “Standing at the front of the house. Welcoming the heroes. Hello, sir. Can I take your coat? Can I show you to your first puzzle? Would you like a kobold appetizer to sharpen your sword on?”

  “I’d prefer it if you tore them apart instead of making them comfortable.”

  “I must say, Core Beno, I am really quite perturbed. And I am sorry to use such harsh language with you.”

  “Gary, I’m sorry about this. Really, I am. But dungeons evolve, and the threats to them evolve. My defenses have to evolve along with it. I’m going to have to demote you.”

  “I…I won’t be a boss monster anymore?”

  “I’m sorry, Gary.”

  I felt like such a jerk. I had brought Gary into my first dungeon, after all. I had created him in the melding room by combining a spider, leech, and stone-troll. He hadn’t asked to come here. It wasn’t as if I had heard a knocking on my door, and found this spider monstrosity standing there with a sign that read ‘boss monster for hire.’

  It had to be done, though. The stakes were much higher in this dungeon, and my opponents were tougher. I’d need a boss monster to match.

  One of the fundamental laws of a dungeon was that there could only be one monster at a time. There was nothing I could do to change that; if I made a new one, then the unseen spirits that governed dungeon rules would just melt Gary into ooze.

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  The only other way was to demote him. It’d mean he’d lose boss monster status, and he’d lose a lot of his attack and defense powers along with it, but it was my only choice.

  Demote monster: Gary

  Gary grew a little smaller. Only by a foot, but enough to lose some of his intimidating look. His skin was still made from stone, but patches look blacker now, like a normal spider skin.

  Note: Do spiders have skin? Question to ask Breedmaster Hulle if I ever see him.

  He hung his head now. I swear to you, I saw a tear form on one of his spider eyes.

  When I looked at that, I felt it like a kick in the stomach from a giant troll. This was part of leadership, I knew. The academy had always taught us cores to be cold. After all, it was part of coredom that we’d watch our creatures get hurt and killed.

  I was becoming too attached to them. That was what Overseer Bolton would tell me.

  I didn’t want to lose that part of me completely, because I believed that fostering a bond with my creatures made us stronger as a whole. But I needed to toughen up just a little.

  “That’ll be all for now, Gary. I’ll need you to guard thi
s room and battle any seekers who enter. If you want to eat them, you can, but save any weapons and loot.”

  “Eat them?” said Gary, shocked. “Why would I do such a horrible thing?”

  “Okay, don’t get like that! Some boss monsters like to eat their kills, that’s all.”

  “That’s repulsive, Core Beno. So uncultured. I like to think I have more class about me and not only that, but more of a soul. No, I won’t eat them. I will simply murder them.”

  “Good. The tiles on the floor are trapped, and stepping on them shoots vampiric darts. I have linked the vampiric effect to you, so any hero damage from the darts will heal you.”

  After explaining that I left him, hopping to another pedestal point and feeling like the jerkiest dungeon core ever made.

  CHAPTER 16

  Chief Reginal paced around the strategy room. Well, he called it pacing, but it was more of a fast limp, really. A recent dungeon raid meant that he’d never pace properly again.

  And he called it a room, but a keen observer would see that it was actually a tent. In fact, there were no real buildings at all in the settlement of the Eternals clan.

  As tents went it was a big one, large enough for a replica model of the tunnels to take up half of it. They had set it up on a table on the far side of the tent, where the surprise dust storms would be able to get to it and knock over all the little wooden figurines that represented traps.

  The other half of the tent was occupied by beds for Reginal and Devry. Reginal slept on an inch thick, goose-feather bed, just like the rest of his men. He would never have better, nor worse, and that way nobody could ever hold a grudge that their chief had more comforts than them. It was one less weapon to use against him in the next chief elections.

  His son, Devry, needed more comfort. Not because he was a demanding child. Nope, he was eleven, and Devry would have loved nothing more than to be able to sleep on the dirty ground. He just wanted to be a child.

  But his condition meant that couldn’t happen. He needed to be on a soft surface at all times, so he slept on a five-inch-thick duck and goose feather bed. Next to him was an orb that Chief Reginal had an alchemist make for him.

  The orb was made from crystal and had been pure white when Reginal bought it. All through each day, mana seeped from it and into Devry’s throat, snaking to his lungs where it sucked poisons from his body and then brought them back into the orb.

  The orb had started transparent but was now colored black with Devry’s lung rot, and Reginal would need another soon. Problem was, those things cost a fortune. Not only would some alchemists not deal with goblins, but the ones who were prepared to do so jacked their prices.

  The last orb had cleaned Reginal out. He’d organized a few dungeon raids out east, which he and some of the younger warriors scored good loot from. But that was how he got his limp. He was getting too old to lead from the front.

  No, the only long-term solution was to win back the mana springs.

  Reginal stood over his model of the tunnels. There were two models, one for each tunnel system. So far, they had never broken through either side, and every attempt made them weaker and eroded support for even trying to claim back the springs.

  No, this wasn’t working. Reginal would never say it out loud because that would make it seem true, but he saw a day coming where their last assault failed. A day where he came back to his tent, an utter failure, and he found a pure black orb resting beside his son, but the tent was silent. No rasping breaths.

  The thought made tears form in his eyes.

  “Dad?” cracked a voice.

  “I thought you were asleep, Devry. I was just checking on the plan for the next assault. This might be the one.”

  “Is that why you look like you’ve been kicked in the balls?”

  Reginal laughed. “Fine. It could be better. But we have something in the works, lad.”

  “Did you check my notes?” asked Devry. He then sank into a wheezing coughing fit. The orb on the table beside him buzzed. There was a snapping sound, and a hint of a dark stench, and then the orb turned just that little bit darker.

  Reginal handed him a pot of water. “Drink.”

  “I’m fi-” Devry began, then coughed again, his green skin turning red. Reginal patted his back and found he was sweaty. Devry recovered himself. “I’m fine. Did you read them?”

  His son hadn’t inherited his goblin instincts for battle. Reginal had been a killer in his youth. Only for the clan, though. Not for fun. He’d been strong, fast, and ruthless. His hands had felt empty if he didn’t have a dagger in them.

  Devry had been ill since he was young, and he’d never had the strength to practice, so he never knew the weight of a blade. But he’d inherited Reginal’s constant need to improve himself, so he’d focused on the part of him that he could exert; his mind.

  Reginal glanced at the inch-thick bundle of papers over by his bed. He’d read through half of the notes, using it as material to help him sleep. In the nicest possible way, of course. He didn’t find them boring, he just didn’t have as studious a mind as his son. Devry had written it in goblin cursive. He preferred reading and writing in some of Xynnar’s more common languages, but he had written this for his people.

  “Your manifesto?” said Reginal. “I’m almost through it.”

  “It’s not a manifesto, dad. Manifesto sounds like I’m trying to persuade people. I’m not, I’m just offering another option.”

  “It’s impressive, lad. From what I have read, half of it is based on us moving away from the springs for good.”

  Devry nodded. “There are lots of abandoned freeholds and empty plots of land in Xynnar. Many places where the Crystal Wars spread and people didn’t go back. They still think the war-blight taints the land, but they haven’t read the latest botanist studies on how long Blight lasts, and how much of a contaminator it even is.”

  “And for all this reading, which I couldn’t be prouder of my boy, you haven’t read about our own people. You’re talking about leaving a place that has been our home for nearly a thousand years.”

  “Sometimes a people have to evolve, Dad. We could swear fealty to a lord and get land legitimately. Fertile land that we could farm and raise cows and sheep on. We would send a dozen of us to cultivation school to learn how to grow crops to maximum efficiency, and they can pass their lessons to the others. We eat what we grow, and we sell the surplus.”

  “You’re talking about a whole new way of life for us, and you’re forgetting one thing.”

  “The springs.”

  “The springs, yes. We have spent decades away from them, and the addiction hasn’t got weaker. But something else.”

  “What?” asked Devry. His green cheeks were turning red. Reginal knew it was because he was suppressing an almighty cough. Devry knew that Reginal would end their discussion if it was making him ill, and he wanted to finish it so much that he was trying desperately to hide it. Reginal pretended not to notice.

  “What did I forget?” asked Devry.

  “Do you remember Grandpa Garron, when he got too old to fight?”

  Devry nodded.

  “His muscles wasted away. He started to leave his tent less often. Eventually, he transferred back to the main camp, where he never left his bed. People need a purpose in life, or they waste away. Maybe your way of life would be easier, but it could be the death of us.”

  “Are you thinking about our people now, Dad, or yourself? You don’t have to worry about what happened to Grandpa Garron happening to you.”

  “You’re a clever little bag of horse crap, aren’t you?”

  Devry laughed, which was a mistake because he wheezed like a mule with a seed stuck in its throat. Reginal patted his back and gave him more water.

  When Devry recovered, he took a sip of water. “Some of the defectors say that the Wrotun are lying.”

  “They always lie. They are deceivers at heart, down to the way they fight with their traps.”

  �
�They’re making up history, now. That’s what the defectors say. It’s as though lies were woven into their minds from when they were children. Some of them really believe that the Wrotun has lived near the springs for centuries.”

  “A child’s mind is like soil, and you can plant whatever you like if you do it early enough,” said Reginal. “See, when you started showing signs that you wanted to study, I promised your mother I would let you pursue whatever subject you wanted. In fact…”

  Reginal stopped talking. Devry had fallen asleep now, leaving the chief to think about the boy’s manifesto, because that’s what it was no matter how much he denied it. The boy could be a leader someday.

  Not in times of war where they struggled to win back what the Wrotun took from them. But if Reginal could fight and gain back the springs, then their clan would need a chief prepared for growth, not war.

  That meant that there was no question of moving the clan yet. In turn, this meant they were split between fighters and settlers, with many of the clan’s families carved down the middle. All the soldiers were living out here, on the wasteland surface. A desolate place that made them miss their families.

  His goblin masons had offered to begin work on crude buildings a mile away from the surface doors, but Chief Reginal had refused. Building homes all the way out here, in this desolate wasteland, would be both stupid and pathetic.

  Stupid because nothing grew here, and it was ridiculous to think about constructing a long-term settlement in a place where even the toughest of weeds gave up trying to grow.

  Pathetic because building stone or clay houses here would be like settling down. Like admitting defeat.

  At least if they lived in canvas tents, he could pretend that this was only a temporary thing. Forget that temporary had meant decades so far. Forget that the rest of the Eternals clan lived thirty miles to the east, where there was soil that they could plant things in.

  Sometimes, he thought that he and the whole clan were deluding themselves. They had their tents in the fertile east, and they had a camp here, near the mana springs. The soldiers and their slaves lived here, where they could quickly access the surface doors. The weakest and eldest of the clan lived east, where they grew food and sent it back here so the soldiers could eat.