The Dungeon Destroyer: A LitRPG Level-Up Adventure (The Dungeon Slayer Series Book 2)

by Konrad Ryan

  “I’ll be right there.”

  The phone clicked in termination, and Tad’s front door exploded a moment later. A monster strode through, his aura shone an intense purple, Tad had never seen the like. White hair flowed down his back, his chest covered in gleaming silver fur, face clearly monkey-like. This beast was impossibly strong. He would kill Tad in a heartbeat. But Tad couldn’t die now, not with so much depending on him.

  “Brilliant burst!” Tad consumed his last charge of the skill and flew at the creature he could only describe as a yeti. His speed warped past anything he’d ever felt. With all his might he drove Raekast’s Fang toward the monster’s chest.

  No use.

  The yeti caught his wrist and broke it instantly. Tad slammed into the tile, shattering the floor, the breath forced from his lungs as ribs shattered and punctured organs instantly.

  *-741 health*

  “I see you’ve gotten even stronger since the last time I’ve seen you.” The voice was harsh, but familiar.

  Tad let out a gurgle of blood and a sigh of relief, pain coursed through him at the breath. It was Gerald. Tad should have known from the color aura that Gerald was an ally, but the strength had sent him in a panic. Fight or flight.

  “Good thing too. Sorry if I hurt you. I can’t much control myself in this form. In fact, even warlords have trouble with me in my transformed state. Transformations are a hell of a power-up.”

  * * *

  Two days had passed since Tad’s call to Gerald. Eight more dungeons had exploded, only one in a populated city, Phoenix, Arizona was wiped off the map. Over a million more dead, but the rest of the dungeons had been documented, teams of slayers had already entered the ones most at risk for exploding. Miraculously, when the slayer team entered the dungeon, the timer above paused and the black ball of energy froze in time with it. Gerald had been obviously interested in Tad’s powers, but his urgency to save lives seemed to overwhelm his curiosity, never asking about specifics. Tad had wanted to offer the information, but never did.

  If only Gerald had asked.

  There were 6,321 videos of active dungeons, all threatening to explode. Surprisingly, soldier dungeons and warlord dungeons looked like they were set to explode first, it seemed an odd combination, the weakest and the strongest dungeons. Creator dungeons were rare, almost non-existent. Warrior and champion dungeons were set to explode the following week. Gerald’s strategy was to get one slayer in each dungeon set to explode in the coming day until a team of slayers could reach it to clear. It had been an effective strategy, but one that still didn’t answer the biggest question the entire world was asking.

  What about Titan?

  Film crews always had a tough time getting close to Titan. Even when a warlord had gone himself, the camera had been destroyed, the footage corrupted. Li Wei Zhang, one of the Chinese creator twins, and the strongest slayer alive, had volunteered to record Titan. It had been a surprise to everyone, China usually worked alone. But collaboration with America had stabilized their dungeons, along with dungeons across the globe. They probably suspected that only America had the technology to know which dungeons were the most unstable, and in a sense, they were right.

  It had been the longest two days of Tad’s life. Not because the stakes were high, or the work was mundane, but because of his other deadline. He needed to get stronger, climb to the peak of warrior or he wouldn’t be strong enough to out power four voids. Not with the restrictions placed on him.

  But now he was free. Gerald had thanked him profusely, told him he would be given an honorary medal from the military, but it would be top secret, so he wouldn’t actually receive it.

  Tad didn’t really care about that. But it couldn’t hurt to have the U.S. Government owe you one. He excused himself from Gerald’s dungeon car, and walked the short distance back inside his house, the front door that Gerald had shattered had already been replaced. That was twice in just a handful of days. He had already apologized to his mom profusely for both incidents, when she brought them meals periodically.

  Tad closed his front door behind him and then froze. On top of the coffee table in the middle of his living room, a single blue flame burned, absent of heat. He had only seen that once before, from the Defector. Next to the flame was a small piece of paper, folded in half.

  Tad opened the note.

  ‘Imagine my surprise when the dungeon I failed to clear, suddenly reappeared as a warrior rank dungeon. Yes, the same creator rank dungeon where I learned the secrets of the universe, but something has changed. You are the key, Tad, whether you like it or not. I would enter myself, if I could, instead, I’m sending one of my elites. Better clear it fast, because he doesn’t play well with groups.

  If it truly is the same dungeon, and not some cosmic mimicry, perhaps you can learn the secrets I hold. If you need additional motivation, maybe this will get you moving. Your chubby warrior friend and a group of slayers entered five minutes before you read this.

  Better hurry.

  -D’

  Bunta! Tad paused for a moment, Bunta hadn’t called, he wasn’t sure if the man thought him responsible for what had happened in the dungeon. But he couldn’t pass over an opportunity for information because of some friendship drama.

  Tad turned the note over, an address was written on the back. Tad didn’t know how he was the key to the Defector’s plan, but if this dungeon could explain all the questions that burned inside his chest, then it was worth the risk, even if it was his first warrior rank dungeon.

  He paused, for a moment, he wanted to watch ‘Path to Zero,’ to open Zero’s book of progress, and see how the man himself had progressed through his warrior trial. He wanted to see how Zero had overcome the same trials Tad had. How he handled the minotaur fight, the wraithford fight. But that would have to wait. He was on the clock.

  The Defector’s crony was coming to Bunta’s dungeon. He would watch the book later.

  Tad threw open the door and ran down the road at full speed, typing the address into his dungeon maps app. It was southeast, near the border of Kansas, but probably not close enough to Kansas City to see the destruction. The wind howled as he sprinted faster than the cars ever could travel. According to the note on his dungeon app, three groups of slayers had already entered and none had returned.

  It sounded all too familiar.

  But Tad had survived the last one, Bunta too. He would protect Bunta and bring them both out of the dungeon safely.

  He would be sure of that.

  Chapter 23

  Tad leapt off the freeway into a full sprint. The dungeon the Defector had told him about was near a small town named Guide Rock. He had a morbid hope of seeing some of the destruction from the exploded dungeon in Kansas City, but he was traveling the wrong direction for that. He had looked up the location online, hoping to get a hint at what kind of dungeon it might be. Apparently, the guide rock itself had been a dwelling place for spirit animals with miraculous powers, at least, to the native Indians who had lived there long ago. He really didn’t like the sound of that.

  His stomach sank as he arrived at the dungeon entrance. The timer above the dungeon was frozen, only eighteen hours left until its destruction. The sphere of black energy was a sight to behold, twice as big as the dungeon itself. Even frozen in time, the sphere pulsed with power, colors swirled and shifted, almost like a rebirth orb in action, but instead of hope, it carried the certainty of death. Tracks of pacing footprints marred the soft earth beneath, and even a candy wrapper had been discarded near the dungeon entrance. Seems like the party had been nervous, whether to get inside the dungeon and away from the black sphere of pulsating death, or because of the sheer power of the dungeon, Tad didn’t know.

  But he didn’t blame them.

  The blue light of the dungeon glowed hungrily, blue tendrils whipped and kissed across his face and arms. Beyond that, there was a hint of something greater, something that had been but remained no more. The sapphires that painted the dung
eon exterior were all encircled by dull clear patches, images of large dogs or wolves nipped and played. The hounds almost appeared to run with the ebb and flow of the dungeon’s subtle glow. But the largest difference, between this and any dungeon Tad had ever seen, was the etched images of small, humanoid figures, with suns that floated above their heads.

  There were no active creator dungeons. None, at least on record, and hadn’t been since Charles Tidwell had closed the first three before disappearing into Titan. There had been rumours that governments kept the knowledge of new ones quiet, to avoid a panic. But Gabriel, the Defector, had claimed that he had entered a creator dungeon, and lost to the boss. And that this dungeon in front of Tad, was the same one that had forced the Defector to admit defeat. If true, this dungeon could contain the knowledge that had caused the Defector to abandon his country and seek his own goals.

  A dangerous man.

  Sapphire tendrils touched and caressed Tad’s skin without sensation. This dungeon acted differently from the soldier rank dungeons he had become accustomed to, whose tendrils had moved randomly, exploring away from Tad more often than not. But something else was new. The closer Tad came to the dungeon, the more it glowed. Tad paced closer, then retreated, but sure enough, the dungeon could sense him. It was aware of him. For some reason, that creeped him out more than anything else. The dungeon itself had more power, more knowledge, but most of all, it had more sentience.

  The hairs on his arms stood erect. The raw energy that poured from this dungeon was an electrical storm that threatened to shock him at any moment. His heart beat wildly, a racehorse, desperate to catch up with the leader, but he fought to calm it. It was a losing battle.

  But he had no choice. This was the path to power. This was his best shot at leveling up quickly enough to survive the next fight in his rank up trial.

  Why would they give him a test that stripped him of all his items and powers, those he had developed and become reliant on? It was completely unfair. But worst of all was the implication of becoming a warrior rank slayer. Four voids, including the minotaur, had died in his first minotaur trial, and if he were to win this next trial, that would be eight voids who died, just so one could reach warrior.

  How many more voids would Tad kill to chase Zero’s shadow?

  ‘More’ was the only response he could answer honestly.

  Tad strode toward the entrance. Every cell in his body screamed for him to stop, panic forced itself into his throat. The sheer force emitted from this dungeon was impossible. Was this truly just a warrior rank dungeon? Were they all like this?

  Tad calmed his racing heart, but his feet would go no further.

  He was a coward.

  No, that wasn’t true. Not with what he had gone through. His mind sifted through the evidence, even in its panicked state, and found the answer.

  He needed more courage.

  Tad opened his stats, and put his stat points into courage, intending to spend the rest of his safety buffer points.

  *Courage has reached 35! You have learned the following skills:

  You have learned the passive skill ‘A Warrior’s Courage!’

  A Warrior’s Courage: Your courage is sufficient for even tougher dungeons.*

  Tad didn’t stop, he raised his courage up to 40. He wanted to escape this force that choked him, overpower it.

  *Courage has reached 40! You have learned the following skills:

  You have learned the passive skill: ‘Scout’s Sight.’

  Scout’s Sight: You can see the aura of enemies.*

  He examined his stats once more.

  *Tad Harrington

  Rank: Warrior

  Class: Fighter/Void Minotaur

  Level: 50

  Health: 1000/1000

  Mana: 300/300

  Str: 150

  Dex: 120

  Con: 90

  Mag: 100

  Cou: 80

  Cha: 20*

  His heart calmed, his courage bolstered it like a support beam. With scout’s sight, he could now see the aura of both friend or foe. A more interesting observation, however, was that passive skills were given based on the number of stat points you allocated, not the total of the stat after it was multiplied. His level-up program still kept track of the base stats and gave skills once they broke certain thresholds. Somehow it seemed unfair. Not only that, but he was still missing a 2x stat aspect. Had he finished his warrior trial completely, instead of it being interrupted, then he would be twice as strong as he was now. He was entering a warrior dungeon underpowered. In fact, if he really got to level 100 before he finished his warrior trial, then he would only receive the power-up before he went to champion.

  But maybe it was designed that way. The power disparity between Bunta and Gerald had been immense, something that couldn’t be overcome by just a 2x stat bonus.

  Either way, it didn’t matter. But it had been some time since Tad felt like the underdog.

  Without another wasted moment, Tad strode through the entrance of the dungeon, past the gleaming sapphire stones, so beautiful they caught his breath, past the dark tentacles that swarmed and caressed every inch of his skin, without touching him. Past the solitary symbol of two armed men in heated combat, engraved next to the open door of the dungeon. And even past his cowardice.

  Tad braced himself for the familiar darkness between the dungeon door and the dungeon interior, but it never came. Instead, he stepped directly into the dungeon. Then he almost turned and left, not quite sure what he stumbled into.

  A group of slayers were spread out, lounging on couches, chairs, love seats, some even sprawled across cushy-looking beanbag chairs. A couple of slayers paced nervously, but most were sprawled out, eating junk food as if this was an everyday occurrence. Every head turned toward Tad. Surprise and interest showed on the faces of some, but most went back to their leisure.

  “Oh, and who do we have here?” A skinny-looking middle-aged man with one arm slinked to Tad’s side with deadly grace. His raw elegance made even Bunta look clumsy, at least until the man unceremoniously crumpled onto a beanbag chair. “Most wouldn’t enter a dungeon by themselves, after a slayer party had already entered. Borderline suicidal. What if we had run past all the monsters? But perhaps you just recognized the symbol.”

  Tad looked around the room, searching each face, but didn’t recognize any in his search for the one face he had been hoping to see. Bunta.

  “Didn’t think I’d missed you by much.” Tad said.

  The one-armed man peered up into Tad’s eyes. Even lounging on a beanbag, his presence seemed to fill the room. Tad was a mouse before the king on his throne. The health bar above the skinny man’s head was only at 80% but it could go no higher, a black line filled the rest. Tad looked back toward the man’s missing arm. It was like when the banshee had stolen someone’s organs, or like Sara’s black burns. His maximum health had been reduced.

  The man’s chuckle brought Tad’s eyes back to his own. “It’s rude to stare at people’s missing arms.” The man’s eyes twinkled “Name’s Ethan Flint.”

  “Tad Harrington.”

  “Tad. Now, I’m not sure I’m feeling you right, but either you’re the weakest warrior rank slayer in the history of the world, or somehow you’re hiding your power. I sure hope it’s the latter.”

  Tad nodded, he had been expecting the implied question, and he had finally worked out a believable fib, at least, he hoped it was believable. “Yeah, got a cursed item that hides my power. Can’t remove it.” Tad pointed to the cloak on his back. “But I can hold my own. Maybe you know Bunta? He could vouch for me.”

  The man’s grey eyebrows climbed high onto his forehead, above his severe crystalline blue eyes. “You know Bunta? He was here, you know, just a moment ago.”

  Great. Bunta had seen him coming and was now avoiding him.

  The man must have read the look on Tad’s face. “Well, knowing Bunta he should be back any minute now, he took the first match.”


  “Sorry? First match?”

  “So you didn’t recognize the symbol on the door. Dangerous. This is a colosseum dungeon. Four one-on-one matches in a row. After that, we fight the boss. At least, we think the boss is after the fourth. The boss could be the fourth, it’s happened before.”

  “I saw it.” Tad responded, though he hadn’t known what it meant. Somehow he didn’t want to admit that. Why hadn’t he just looked it up like Gruff had? Tad shook his head to clear his thoughts, inspecting the many interesting figures in the room. The figure that drew his attention first, however, was the fattest man Tad had ever seen. He was even fatter than when Tad had set his slider to maximum constitution and nothing else. Leagues fatter. Tad was pretty sure the man couldn’t even walk, his folds of fat draped down his body, covering even his feet. Across his body were ropes and harnesses, made from some material Tad could only guess at. The figure next to him was nearly as impressive, a red-headed man whose muscles put even pre-character creation Tad’s to shame. He looked like a bodybuilder, but even his muscles had muscles. It was hard to tear his eyes away from the pair, but three healers in robes, their crooks resting on the nearby wall, sat around a small table playing cards. A slender pair of upside-down gauntleted feet, visible only behind a backward-facing couch, danced likely to music. A rough-looking man with an eyepatch slept on a couch, his eyepatch covered his good eye blocking the light, but his horrible scarred mess of an eye socket was on full display. Tad finished his inspection of the room. There were nine people, including Tad.

  The dungeon was almost as interesting as the people. Four walls each contained a wooden door, dead center, each numbered with their own iron rings. They almost looked like their own entrances to even more dungeons, with one exception. A drawn-on Padlock was painted white on doors two through four, while a stick figure, of a portly Asian man with gorilla hands that could only be Bunta, was battling on the front of the only unlocked door. A pack of strange-looking wolves surrounded the stick figure Bunta, biting and snapping their jaws, some of which looked all too human. Suddenly, the stick figure Bunta spun and drove his daggers through two of the wolf stick figures. They fell into lines and circles, apparently dead. Stick figure Bunta circled around the last two wolves, one bigger than the rest by half, probably a miniboss wolf. The stick figure battle on the wall mesmerized Tad, but no one else seemed to pay much attention to it.