Monster Core: A Gamelit Harem Dungeon Core

by Dante King

  Zagorath built Bladed Fan Trap (Troll Iron)

  Cost: 800 Physical Essence

  I still couldn’t get over how Lilith’s magical programming had a catalog of not only every item I’d found so far, but also items I had built with my own designs. It was machine-learning taken to the next level, but then I shouldn’t have expected anything less from divine magic.

  “You’re going to want to see this,” I conveyed to Bertha.

  She glanced around after I’d broken her meditations. “What do I want to see?”

  “Keep your eyes peeled for the bat sculpture,” I said before turning my attention to my imp champion. I focused, relaying my silent message to him. “Puck, I want you to trigger my new trap with a shadow-sphere. Can you do it without destroying the trap?”

  “I can modify its power,” he replied. “Simply tell me where to throw it, Master.”

  “It’s on the third stone tile in front of the Forge Chamber, ten tiles from the south wall.”

  “Yes, Master.” Puck cooked up a sphere and then hurled the object at my desired location.

  The ball of darkness glanced across the trigger with only a little pressure, but it activated all the same. With an explosive clack, five blades whipped out of the bat decoration’s mouth and fanned out in a wide arc. They lost momentum after about ten feet and skittered to the floor, but I swallowed them instantly.

  “By Lilith, what was that?” Bertha gaped.

  “Fresh developments, my champion,” I chuckled.

  The blades weren’t cleavers like I’d laid down on the side-altars in the twisting hallways of the Pretzel. No, these were just iron blades—thick, heavy, and sharp enough to slice through troll skin. Taking what I’d just consumed, I reconstituted the substances and reloaded the blades into the new-and-improved trap.

  I still had enough essence to try a few other traps, so I built two simple spikes. I made them almost five feet long and gave them the same design as Bertha’s original poleaxe. I already had names for them: Ceiling Spike and Floor Spike. I placed troll iron variations in the last passage leading out of the Pretzel beside the First Floor’s entrance.

  Zagorath built Floor Spike (Troll Iron)

  Cost: 800 Physical Essence

  Zagorath built Ceiling Spike (Troll Iron)

  Cost: 800 Physical Essence

  One would slide out from the floor, straight into an unfortunate Adventurer’s underside. The other would drop from the ceiling with enough force to punch through a neck and chest, and maybe even enough force to split the skull of your regular, working-class human. I didn’t like my chances against trolls, but then I had my own troll who’d make short work of them. Well, half-troll, but I figured I liked her better that way.

  I doubted I would be this strong without her, or without Puck’s mobility and magic. I might’ve been the brains, but they were the last line of defence against any adventurers who could bypass my traps and minions. Their place would be beside my jewel’s pedestal, ready to chop down any survivors.

  I hadn’t discovered what Soul Essence could be used for yet, but I knew it was related to making my dungeon and avatar stronger. I could feel its power even though the method of activating it was a mystery to me.

  That was a problem to be solved later. Besides, Gavin’s friends would bring me a whole lot more Soul Essence, and maybe I just needed a higher quantity before I could use it.

  Time passed in Zagorath as it waited for a second wave of adventurers, but none came. That didn’t mean the inhabitants did nothing; we trained, and farmed, and perfected the dungeon in anticipation of our second kill.

  I still hadn’t taken Bertha, and I could feel myself starting to grow eager, but my mind was still focused on adventurers. She seemed equally focused on training, and I put her and Puck to the task of farming Hellbats. Both champions committed to almost constant battle against the spawned minions, and I was brimming with 2,500 Infernal Essence by the end of it.

  We’d become much more efficient in our farming methods, and before my champions retired each day, I ordered them to spar each other. The half-troll’s new halberd wasn’t quite capable of cutting through the imp’s shadow-spheres, but she could divert their trajectory a little by catching them in the flat of her blade. Surprisingly, Puck was capable of dodging her swings and swooping beneath her guard. They didn’t pull any punches, and I found myself repairing their wounds quite frequently.

  The two champions were my best recourse for any adventurers who bypassed the Spring Traps and Hellbats in my antechamber, descended the first flight of stairs, and made it through the Pretzel. I would keep Puck and Bertha in the First Floor, between the corridor and my dais.

  Twenty Hellbats were hidden away in their secret tunnels, and I figured they were plenty for now. Five perched above the antechamber, ready to roll out the welcome carpet for any Adventurers stepping down into my depths. Ten others nestled in the small alcoves above the side-altars, and the last five were stationed in the corners of the First Floor.

  I performed more excavations while my champions rested. I didn’t make the rooms any larger but played with the detailing of the walls until they looked like they were formed out of giant obsidian bricks. I continued polishing the floors to make them glisten and reflect light like pristine pools of black liquid. It was a time-consuming endeavor, and I had to slowly consume and redistribute Physical Essence to make it work, but it was all worth it.

  The time spent farming and excavating helped me consider what to do next, and I decided my dungeon wasn’t complete without rewards. If my gaming days taught me one thing, it was that adventurers only plundered a dungeon for loot. The mountain hadn’t provided me with a single vein of metal ore yet, but I still had the composition of troll iron tucked comfortably away in my memory-bank.

  I poured Physical Essence into six cleavers, identical to the one Bertha had gifted to me. My consciousness fashioned the weapons and sharpened them to razor edges. I gave each a size variant but that was about the extent of what I could do with my limited knowledge. Some bore smaller handles and blades, and I tried to vary their construction to suit different hand sizes. I etched two with the Swiftness seal I’d found on Gavin’s club. With their designs completed in my consciousness, I brought them to life to sit on the side-altars.

  I infused Infernal Essence into the two seals and watched with satisfaction as a soft glow of energy hissed into the runes. The weapons became conduits of dark energy and gleamed with a dull red light, illuminating their two alcoves.

  I wove Physical Essence into leather to create comfortable hand-wraps that would aid an adventurer’s punch or his grip on a weapon. The small items of clothing curled into my alcoves, beside the cleavers. Next came a replica of Gavin’s mace, but I put it on the dais at the foot of my core’s cradle. It was an ugly weapon, made for an ugly fucker, so it’d suffice for any of Gavin’s friends.

  “Puck! Bertha! Join me at my core,” I willed them. “There are new traps adjacent to the First Floor’s entrance and the Pretzel. Watch out for them.”

  With a grin, I retreated my consciousness into my core once again. I found the elf avatar of Von Dominus inside the facets and summoned him. The floor beneath the dais liquified, and then the elf slowly rose from the surface like an actor appearing from beneath a theater stage.

  I could’ve spawned the avatar at the top of the stairs, right at the entrance, if I’d chosen to. This was a serious advantage I hadn’t possessed as a core without a dungeon. I was Zagorath, and could summon, disassemble, build, and dig wherever the hell I damn well pleased.

  I reached out with the limber tendrils of my consciousness and possessed the elf once again. I let out a deep exhale and enjoyed the feeling of breathing, and of the blood pumping through hands and legs once again. It couldn’t hold a candle to being fucking omnipresent inside my own deathtrap-ridden Infernal halls, but it was nice to notice how the light of my gem flickered and dimly lit the First Floor.

  I heard Bertha
and Puck moving, their footsteps and voices drawing closer. Relief filled me when Bertha slipped easily past both floor triggers and didn’t send a massive spike out of the ceiling or the ground.

  “You’ve returned to us, Master!” Puck cackled as he flew lazy loops around Bertha.

  My eyes settled on the half-troll, and I appreciated her curves for the first time in days. Well, it was the first moment my senses had been entirely devoted to her. I breathed in her beauty as the memory of our bedroom adventure came rushing back to me. I could only truly appreciate it now I was inside a flesh-and-blood body.

  “I’m glad to see you,” she said in her jazz-edged voice that stirred my blood.

  “As am I to see you.” I swept my arms theatrically over the First Floor. “Zagorath is becoming everything it was meant to be. When Gavin’s comrades finally come looking for him, they’ll be in for one hell of a surprise.”

  “What are your orders, Master?” Puck asked.

  “You’re both my fastest and quietest champion, Puck,” I told him, layering on the praise, maybe a little too thick. “You’re the perfect scout. I need you to search out the ascent to Zagorath. If you catch even a glimpse of any adventurers, you fly into the second set of stairs, and call out. Do not return until they’ve arrived.”

  I knew they were on their way. News had reached Gavin through Jeff and Ma, and they must have told him about the dungeon core before he’d seen their corpses. He wouldn’t have kept the secret to himself, not if he was a member of the Sand Pirates. But was it a stretch to assume he was altruistic enough to inform the others? Would he have failed to contact them because he wanted the dungeon all to himself?

  “Are you sure that’s wise, Master?” Puck asked as a sly glint slid into his eyes. “Surely you will be more secure with both of us watching over you, rather than just my compatriot here?”

  “My wisdom is not for you to question,” I answered. “You’re the only one I can spare—and trust—to carry out this task effectively.”

  Bertha glanced at me, but she wasn’t offended. Her mouth ticked up, and her eyes clouded with desire. Yeah, she knew exactly what my intentions were.

  “Carry out your orders, Dungeon Champion,” I said to the imp with a conclusive note.

  I swear the little bastard winked at me as he zipped away. His cackle rang through the dungeon while he raced to the halls of the Pretzel before humming up toward the entrance as fast as his wings could take him.

  Bertha smile and the naked lust in her eyes grew until the imp was finally outside the dungeon. I stepped closer toward her without any hurry. She’d read the signs, and she was practically begging me to take her.

  “With all the work you’ve been doing, I thought you’d forgotten about me,” Bertha murmured in that salacious tone of hers. She let her poleaxe fall to the floor with a clatter. “The halberd was a generous reward, but I want more.”

  “More?” I asked. “Tell me exactly what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

  “I want you, Von Dominus.” The half-troll grabbed my tunic and pulled it free of my chest. The garment hit the floor, baring the lean muscles of my elf beneath.

  Then I was close, my face barely an inch from hers. Her heavy breath brushed against my cheek with warmth, and a fanged smile spread across my face. I had forgotten. Not about her, not at all. But I’d forgotten the perks of possessing a flesh-and-blood being.

  I kissed the corner of her mouth, and her breath hissed through her teeth in response. My fangs sank into her neck; only a few millimeters, but it did the trick. Her whole body shuddered at the pleasure of it, and my fingers brushed the sides of her bare midriff. They traced over her ribs, finding the gnarled leather of her trollish garment.

  “You are to be rewarded,” I breathed in her ear. “In the fullest manner possible.”

  That was her breaking point.

  Suddenly, the world pitched as she tackled me to the floor, but I was no longer just a weakling elf. Her own strength now raced through my veins in potent savagery. Her mouth was against mine in an instant, kissing me with wondrous force. Her tongue slid into my mouth as my hands curled into the powerful muscle of her ass and her thighs. My fingers found the fastenings of her bodice, and the knots fell apart with a few well-placed tugs.

  I groaned as her teeth sank into my own neck, and I laughed at her mimicry. My right hand caressed her opening, and she squeezed my shoulders as though trying to crush me. My left hand gripped her breast and fondled while her hips rocked against me. I throbbed within my pants and thought to tear them off when the half-troll slid down to my crotch and removed my pants almost delicately.

  The first and final delicate movement of the night.

  She took me in her hands and then we were complete, united in our thirst for passion. Her hips torqued as she straddled me, her breasts beaded with sweat. Then she used her powerful arms to spin us both so I was on top of her. My tongue found the full curves of her breasts and ventured to the hardness of her nipples.

  The dimly-lit halls of the First Floor shook with a half-troll’s moans as her hands found my hair and pulled me closer to her chest. I could have died within her flesh, suffocated between and within the fullness of her.

  Except this was only the beginning of my avatar’s timer, and Puck would be gone for the whole hour.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The echo of Bertha’s final, animalistic moan had barely died away before Puck’s shrill cry rang out. The imp’s clarion call continued as he swept down the stairs and toward the Pretzel.

  Had the Sand Pirates finally arrived?

  I couldn’t communicate telepathically with the imp while in my avatar form, and didn’t think it kind to Bertha to allow the imp to burst in while she was stark naked. I gave her a passionate kiss, then shifted my consciousness so it returned to the core on its pedestal once again.

  At least Puck had obeyed my orders—he’d stayed just shy of the Pretzel while he howled for my attention out of sight. No saying he hadn’t heard anything, but at this point, my mind was far too charged with excitement to care.

  Bertha grinned as she watched my elf dissolve into the floor. The half-troll then flipped off her back and landed smoothly on her feet like a circus acrobat. She caught hold of her bodice and refastened it before wrapping her battle skirt around her hips. Her fingers found her flowing hair and tied it into a braid. Her halberd shot to her hands after she scooped it up with her foot.

  She was ready for my orders only a few minutes after she’d climaxed; just my kind of girl.

  “Reward enough?” I chuckled to her.

  “Thank you… Master.” The way she teased out the last word playfully made my jewel flicker mischievously in response.

  I ordered Puck into the First Floor’s chamber, and he sprang out of the shadows eagerly. The little guy must’ve had a constant flow of caffeine instead of a bloodstream because the energy levels he had at his disposal were fucking unnatural. I was pleased by it, though—he was my eyes and ears outside of Zagorath and likely fast enough to outrun any potential dungeon divers he discovered. Shadow Crag was quickly becoming familiar territory for him, and that worked for me.

  “What do you have to tell me?” I asked from within my jewel.

  “There is a party bound for Zagorath, Master.”

  “Sand Pirates?”

  “Not these.”

  “What are they then?” If these weren’t Gavin’s pals, then they must have heard about Zagorath through some other means. It would mean more visitors to my dungeon, but I was happy to entertain any and all guests just for the chance to grow stronger.

  “Probably best to call them raiders, Master,” the imp replied. “The name adventurer would not be accurate for thieves and brigands such as these.”

  “What more can you tell me of them?”

  “There are thirty in all.”

  Thirty? Fucking hell. I had five blades, two massive spikes, and twenty Hellbats. And, as I realized after a moment, I had my
two champions. We’d killed Gavin as well as an entire horde of imps and a mother-son duo of trolls. Von Dominus wasn’t to be counted out, either, but I was better off using my traps, minions, and champions to deal with the impending horde.

  “We can handle them, Master,” Puck said, as though able to read my troubled thoughts. “Twenty-eight are half-orcs, by the looks. Their enchanted brandings aren’t like Gavin’s either. The sigils look less refined, most likely fashioned by an unskilled hand.”

  “What about the other two?” I asked.

  “Humans. One appears to be a man of magic, and the other has a refined branding much like Gavin had.”

  “We will kill them all,” Bertha growled. “Zagorath with never fall to half-orcs and a pair of humans.”

  “We won’t be killing all of them,” I cautioned.

  “You do not want to consume their essence?” Puck asked, surprised.

  “We need at least one survivor to spread word of the dungeon,” I explained. “We can’t kill our only method of advertisement.”

  “Understood,” the half-troll said. “Then we will brutalize all except one. Perhaps the human. They have big mouths.”

  I smiled at that and realized Bertha knew nothing about my history as a human. She was definitely right, though, about our mouths.

  “What should we do now, Master?” Puck circled above my jewel like an eager child.

  I cast my mind up to my entrance, but I couldn’t feel any disturbance in the air around it. There wasn’t anything to say these raiders weren’t a couple of feet away from it, just silently watching and talking amongst themselves.