Monster Core 2

by Dante King

  “Glad to see you’ve been listening,” I said. “I almost thought I’d been talking to myself. It’s funny, isn’t it? They treat us like we’re simply magical locations. Not thinking beings who have their own agendas.”

  “You speak like one of them, you know,” a chirpy female tone suddenly replied, echoing through the shadowy gloom.

  “An adventurer?” I shrugged. “Maybe I was, once upon a time.”

  The minutes were ticking down, but I had to slow-play this. I couldn’t reveal my hand too quickly.

  “Weren’t we all, though?” the bright voice replied. “Just chosen by goddesses, forged into jewels, and then left here to maintain the balance of nature?”

  “I think it might’ve been a little different in my case,” I replied. “Where are you?”

  “I’ll just be a moment,” the Nature Dungeon answered.

  Mist drifted off one of the pools and coalesced into a tall and willowy figure. The flora around her seemed to latch onto her misty form. Grass, moss, and fern twisted around her into a tight-fitting dress. She raised her hands, leaned back, and sighed with deep content as the last of the mist solidified into her flesh.

  The sudden glow of her emerald eyes told me her consciousness had bonded with her avatar.

  I smiled as she stepped out of the pool and let my gaze flicker over her. The woman’s skin was an off-white, like the bark of a white willow tree. Vines extended from her arms and writhed like they had minds of their own.

  Her almond-shaped, almost elf-like eyes settled on mine with interest as she strolled forward. Long legs shifted through her dress as she moved. Her clothes were almost impossible to understand. I couldn’t grasp how they clung to her, accentuating her figure, and still managed to stay together. Her hair was colored a shade of deep green, speckled with leaves. The dungeon’s avatar looked like a human manifestation of nature itself. Her fingers—slender and long, like a pianist's—folded themselves politely in front of her.

  She halted about five feet in front of me. “So, how does an Infernal Dungeon’s avatar find himself leading adventurers into my dungeon?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said before I bowed and held out my arm. “Von Dominus, at your service.”

  “Tyria, maidservant of Maya.” The beautiful woman curtsied with a playful flair, but her eyes didn’t leave mine for a moment. “Are you truly offering me your service, dear elf, or are you merely being polite?”

  “Depends on the kind of service you have in mind,” I said.

  “The kind where you lie down and let me kill you,” Tyria said. There wasn’t so much as a regretful tone in her voice. “I understand you’re quite a prideful creature, and you’re unlikely to do as I ask, so let me sweeten my proposition.”

  She glided over the moss-covered stone beneath our feet and halted when her face was only inches away from mine. Her fingers found my face. They were refreshingly cool and still dripping with dew. Her hypnotic eyes didn’t leave mine for a second as a smile crossed my mouth and I bared my fangs.

  Tyria was intoxicating. There wasn’t a word that better described her. But her threat hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  I slid away from her just as smoothly as she’d moved in. My fingers found hers, and I turned her hand. I stared at the vines slithering out from her skin before I kissed a smooth knuckle with all the gentlemanly courtliness I could muster.

  Tyria moaned at my touch, and I realized how easy it would be to claim her. The females I’d met so far in the Sinarius Realms had seemed desperate for my touch, but I figured the kind of power I wielded was a potent aphrodisiac.

  I withdrew with a smirk and kept a buffer-zone of five feet between us. Frustration sparked in her eyes as I moved away from her.

  “I’m all for propositions,” I said, “but death is a road I’d rather not travel down. Although, if anyone could make me walk it, I’m sure you’d be more than capable.”

  Tyria purred as she moved toward me again, and I jumped to a nearby moss-covered rock to keep some space between us. The Nature avatar was radiating everything a man could want. Availability, eagerness, and more than a little playfulness. But I couldn’t trust her. The death of my avatar would be far too much of a setback. I’d come this far, and I didn’t have a lot of time.

  “The race of your avatar. . .” I began, “I’ve never seen anything quite so entrancing. What do you call it?”

  “Didn’t you listen to the legends as a child?” Tyria asked as she moved through the glowing silver ferns. “Or does Lilith simply not educate her followers?”

  “I’m lacking education,” I said. “Care to enlighten me?”

  Tyria’s eyes turned to liquid lust. She raised a hand and gestured in my direction. The moss under my feet shifted, and instinct made me jump. I flipped through the air and splashed into a pool. I stood waist-deep in the water as a vine reached out to grab me. I slashed it with my dagger, and the vine recoiled.

  “I’d be more than happy to educate you,” Tyria murmured. “If you’ll just stay still—”

  “But you want to kill me,” I pointed out. “That’s not exactly in my interest. Tempting as it sounds, I think I’ll keep myself safe and not sorry. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “A Nymph of Eveline is the form I took,” Tyria said as she strolled closer.

  With my adventurers gone, the nymph could chase me all over the grotto. The plants around her stretched out to touch her organic dress. She was a Nature Essence magnet. And if the last few seconds were any indication, she could control every portion of the dungeon while using her avatar.

  “My turn for a question. How did you get here?” Tyria asked. “I’ve heard of dungeon avatars moving a little outside their dungeon, of course, but we’re an enormous distance from the Infernal Realm. Did Lilith place you here to infect these lands?”

  She wasn’t quite wrong. I considered telling her the truth and decided to settle on most of it. “With Lilith’s magic and a little of my own ingenuity, I was able to find my way here. But I have no intention of infecting anything.”

  Tyria’s laugh was a sound of genuine delight. She even clapped her hands. “Oh, you’re precious; you really are. You’ve already infected it. Look at all the death and destruction you’ve wrought within the Deadeye Guild. Surely, they’re just the beginning?”

  Was that encouragement in her voice? “They forced my hand.”

  “You never intended to let them live. I don’t like liars.”

  “That’s funny,” I said, “because neither do I.”

  Tyria was getting closer. Her hair trailed down almost to her waist and caressed the ferns around her as she walked.

  My time was running out. I needed to find a way to convince her to not try killing me.

  I unclasped my cloak and tossed it over a nearby rock. “Let’s be honest with each other.”

  Tyria stepped into the pool with me.“Yes, let’s.”

  “You first,” I smirked. “Why do you want to kill me?”

  “Because,” Tyria said, as if it was obvious, “you belong to Lilith. She’s an aberration. Every goddess, every rational creature, every beast sees your kind in the same way. We’ve been tasked to destroy the likes of you. Especially Lilith’s elder races.” The nymph’s eyes shone with perfect innocence but didn’t hide the edge of mischief in her voice.

  “Your turn,” she continued. “Why did you come here?”

  Tyria obviously wanted a piece of me. It was difficult to tell whether or not it was just something as simple as sex, or if she wanted to try to consume my whole form. What amount of essence would a dungeon receive by absorbing another’s avatar? It was a curious question, but one I’d have to answer another time.

  “I want you to join me,” I answered truthfully.

  “Then, why are you running?” Tyria murmured.

  She raised her hands to touch my face, but I caught her wrists and drank in her Essence-fired eyes.

  “Because I don’t
yet have your word that you won’t strangle me with those clever little tricks of yours,” I whispered.

  Tyria’s hands curled down to find my wrists, and vines sprung from her hands to wrap around mine. “I can’t give you that,” she breathed as she leaned in closer.

  I placed my forehead against hers and stopped her mouth from finding mine. I could appreciate her scent in its entirety when I was this close to her dungeon avatar. She smelled like everything good in nature. Fresh, dewy grass, smoky wood, sweet-swelling flowers, and savory herbs. Delicate, green veins shone through the skin of her arms. Everything in my brain was telling me to give in. To give the beguiling creature in front of me control and to let her have her way with me.

  Tyria backed away from me. “If you show me your true power, perhaps I will let you live.”

  “A battle?” I said as my voice started to fade.

  “Not with me,” she said. “With my champions.”

  “Those trees?” I asked with a smile. “They hardly seem like tough competition. Why not fight me yourself?”

  “I will assist them,” she said. “But the treants are not easy opponents.”

  “We’ll see.”

  A fight against treants to win the heart of a beautiful woman. I could hardly wait. I only had a few hours remaining, and I still had to reap the rewards of a future victory.

  Well, the victory wasn’t secure yet. It was time to show Tyria the true power of Von Dominus.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The treants uncurled themselves from the exit and towered over me as they approached. I’d already learned that they were dangerous as hell, and they definitely weren’t in the mood for a friendly conversation.

  My gear gave me strength and speed that outmatched anything I’d encountered so far. However, sheer physical power might not be enough to overwhelm the treants. Their healing ability and size made me wish I’d equipped Von Dominus with a more appropriate weapon. A tactical chainsaw, maybe.

  I prepared myself for a grueling battle as I drew my daggers. “I’d give anything for a flamethrower right now,” I muttered to myself.

  I couldn’t afford a drawn-out fight with my timer ticking down. There had to be some way to negate or overwhelm the healing factor of these monsters. These creatures bled; my adventurers had proven as much. And they were just plants, not iron chains. Killing machines, sure, but the treants were no different from a plank of wood. Just really big planks of wood.

  Tyria must have seen the new resolve in my eyes because she raised her hands, and the ferns around me rippled before grasping at my arms and legs. I tore through them effortlessly and slashed outward with the sword. The silvery ferns recoiled, and I sprinted toward the treants. Two on one wasn’t exactly fair, so I raised my Frightening Baselard toward the champion on my left. Dark energy shot out from my blade, and the Fright seal forced the creature backward.

  The other treant lurched for me, and a branch-like limb ripped forward, but I dodged around it. I cleaved through its limb and took a running jump off a nearby rock. A bristling mass of branches and leaves tore into me as I spun and slashed at anything that moved. I ducked beneath a swipe from a treant’s branch and drove my dagger into a gnarled joint on its trunk. Bark-like skin gave way under obsidian steel. Fresh green blood splashed over my hand as I wedged my knife deep into the champion’s trunk. The treant wheeled around and thrashed at me.

  Oh, good. I’d pissed it off.

  Leaves, branches, and vines continued to rip at my face and hands, but I ignored the flare of pain.

  I gritted my teeth, jammed my other Infernal dagger beside the first wound, and pulled inward. The two cuts merged into one big, gaping wound as more blood raced out of the creature’s skin. I leaned in and let it splash into my mouth.

  I’d used this tactic plenty of times before, but I’d never expected treant blood to be so disgusting. It was like those green smoothies you bought at breakfast bars—all vitamins, minerals, and a healthy dose of holy shit, could this taste any worse?

  And it carried one hell of an aftertaste. I hissed as the burning sensation filled my chest. Small cracks reverberated through my insides as my ribs stitched themselves back together. The Might seal filled my arms with strength, and I tore both daggers sideways. The blades severed the creature in half before top and bottom splashed into the pool. Nature Essence whirled out of the creature’s corpse as it started to dissolve. The branches of the fern around me snaked out for my throat and arms. The architecture of the dungeon seemed to have a life of its own.

  Tyria wasn’t taking the death of her champion well.

  But I was running on a high of bloodlust, Infernal magic, and fresh energy from the creature’s blood. I plowed through the snares and charged forward again. A vine raced out from the second treant and sliced deep into my thigh.

  “Having fun yet?” I called to Tyria as the deep cut in my leg made me stumble a bit.

  The surviving treant surged forward with the obvious intention of ripping me in half. I dodged yet another snaking strike, caught a branch in the mouth, swore, and bit down on it. Fresh blood gushed into my mouth and healed the gash in my leg. I rolled, leaped to my feet, and drove a dagger into a branch.

  The treant whipped its branch back, and my grip on my dagger took me along for the ride. I caught my legs on the treant’s limb and squeezed my thighs together so that I wouldn’t get thrown. Once I had my hooks in properly, I braced as the creature whipped back and forth. I smashed my free elbow into the hilt of my knife and drove it deep into the creature. Just like a hammer and a nail.

  Vines found my throat, and I gagged as they constricted. I took my other dagger with my free hand and slashed at the vines. I caught a sliver of my own skin along the way, but I took hold of a vine, sucked its juices, and the cut along my neck sealed shut. I clawed my way up the treant toward what served as its head. All the while, the monster thrashed as I moved upward. When I found its eyes, I plunged a dagger into each, and it squealed like a middle-aged woman on Oprah’s giveaways.

  “Stop!” Tyria cried suddenly.

  The treant froze into a statue, my daggers still sticking out of its eye sockets. I tore both weapons free and dropped down from the champion.

  Tyria stood on a mossy stone a few yards away. Fear shone through her eyes, and my bloodlust faded. The dungeon core wanted to save her final champion from me.

  “Let her live,” the nymph pleaded.

  “Do I have your word on your goddess that you’re not going to have them kill me?” I asked.

  Tyria didn’t even hesitate. “I swear on Eveline’s crown that my dungeon will not harm you, Von Dominus.”

  I took a long look at her face and the seriousness in her eyes. “All right.” I shrugged and licked some of the blood from my knife. The taste of metal mixed with refreshing life-force of Tyria’s minions filled my mouth as the last few cuts and marks around my throat, face, and arms closed over. I used a patch of grass to wipe the remaining treant-blood from my daggers and sheathed them.

  “Your champions are impressive,” I said.

  The nymph’s eyes raced over my body. I was covered from head to toe in treant blood, and even scratches tarnished my new breastplate.

  A creaking sound behind me announced the retreat of her last-standing champion back to its place at the exit. I was trapped once again, but the look in Tyria’s eyes suggested I might enjoy being trapped in here with her.

  “Not as impressive as you, it seems,” she murmured.

  I strolled through the plants toward her, and a silvery fern reached out. The leaves caressed my skin as I passed through them.

  Tyria’s face was downcast, so I reached out and lifted her chin with a fingertip. Her shining green eyes met mine. I offered her a smile free of any sarcastic edge. It was a smile of understanding and gentleness. Her champions had been a hell of a fight, but I’d triumphed.

  The corners of her mouth twitched upward at my gaze.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m
sorry,” I whispered. “But I didn’t know how else to show you that I was serious. Can’t you resurrect your fallen treant with essence?”

  “No,” she answered. “My champions do not function that way.”

  “Ah, then I am truly sorry.”

  “I can catch more,” she said in resignation. “A difficult task, but not an impossible one.”

  “You catch them?” I asked.

  “Yes. It’s one of my dungeon perks.”

  Well, that was interesting. Perhaps I could gain this perk for myself?

  “You’ve barely got a scratch on you,” Tyria observed dryly. “I suppose that Lilith really does look after her own. Well, you have what you want, Von Dominus. You have my word that I’ll not harm you. Now, perhaps you can tell me what you really want with me and my dungeon?”

  I didn’t answer. I just kissed her. It wasn’t a playful peck on the forehead, either. I pressed my mouth to hers while my fingers cradled her face and slid into her hair. She stiffened for just a moment and then, her fingers gasped my breastplate. She hauled me backward with surprising strength. My instincts coiled and readied me to strike, but the look on Tyria’s face was one of hungry bliss. Cool water splashed around our feet as I pulled away from her for breath. Tyria smirked and brushed green blood from her cheek.

  “You’re filthy,” she scolded me.

  “That wasn’t my fault,” I said.

  “Details. Not important.”

  Tyria raised her hands and brushed her hair off her shoulders. I watched, fascinated, as the flora-formed clothes fell from her like autumn leaves. They fluttered to the water around our ankles and left the nymph bare to my eyes. Her slender limbs, hips, and perky breasts were a living sculpture from the hands of Eveline herself. She let me look over her for a long moment and traced her dark lips with a wet tongue.

  “Do you have any idea how lonely it gets down here?” she asked me.

  I unbuckled my weapons belt and tossed it to the fern-covered floor behind me. My breastplate unclipped with a twist of my fingers, and my gauntlets came next. My tunic came over my head and bared my chest. Tyria’s curious fingers stroked my pale skin and defined muscle. Her eyes were alight with lustful fascination. My hand slid over her skin, and I noticed that the smooth texture of her flesh wasn’t quite human. It was a little firmer and almost plant-like. She moaned softly as I traced her collarbones. My hands lingered on her breasts, her nipples firm and unyielding under my touch.