FINAL CORE : [A holy dungeon-core litRPG]

Dungeons, as far as we know, have little use for such an abstract thing as money. Yet, they are brim full of it.

Monsters carry coins. Chests are filled with heaps of precious stones and jewels. Mountains of Obols can be found laying around in seemingly random corners and places in some dungeons.

— But to what end?

Sometimes money is used as bait to lure in the greedy and the unprepared into traps and ambushes. Dungeons are well aware of the fact that those who intrude on them are there to make a gain of some sort. This is where we see the origins of the infamous ‘mimic’ monster; a creature that looks exactly like a treasure-chest, belonging to that particular dungeon.

Rare jewels, we can imagine more concrete purposes for, as they are often found embedded in magical mechanisms, or used to summon particularly potent monsters of various elements, corresponding to the type of jewel.

A striking example of this was found in the now destroyed dungeon, the Emerald-Heart. The Emerald-Heart held a natural abundance of rare emeralds in the underground cave-system it appears to have been birthed in. Feasting on the precious stones, the dungeon-core transformed the entire natural cave-system and mine-shaft into a bizarre underground forest full of trees that hung from the ceilings like stalactites, full of incredible natural monsters far beyond its level.

Given the wealth present here, it only made sense to destroy the core and harvest the mine. The Emerald-Heart reached a depth of nearly fifty floors, before it was permanently destroyed and its hollowed out tunnels used as a pre-made mining facility.

As for things such as Obols, our common currency, we simply don’t know.

There are many theories as to where dungeons get these tokens to begin with. Some hold that the dungeons create them through the same process of magical creation as their own walls and floors.

Others argue that the dungeons simply take the coins brought to them by those who fail to survive their incursions.

Others still whisper that dungeon-cores establish rare, secretive connections with merchants, in order to move items between the human economy and their own secretive lives. But this theory makes little sense, as a dungeon-core would simply have no need of money.

It remains a mystery.

 

~ Excerpt from Barnatus Barnacious’ Big Book of Dungeons

 

 

New Area
~ [Dungeon] ~
Floor {11}
The eleventh floor of the tower dungeon. It is currently empty

Capacity: {24} Monster-Points

Traps: 02 Monster-Point prices per monster F-Rank: 01 E-Rank: 02 D-Rank: 04 C-Rank: 08 B-Rank: 16 A-Rank: 32 S-Rank: 64 SS-Rank: 128 SSS-Rank: 256

The next sub-boss/challenge room will be available in {04} floors.

The next boss arena will be available in {09} floors.

 

“Hey, is the tower getting bigger?” asks the human man.

 

His friends look up towards it. “Wow…” says the elf next him in a hushed voice, her ears twitching as the upper platform of the tower rises up another floor in height. “That’s super weird. How did it do that?” she asks, looking at someone else. “Did you see anyone?”

 

“No…” replies the other elf of the group. “It just kind of -” He holds his hands together and then lifts them apart as she speaks. “- Got bigger. Crazy.”

 

“So it’s a dungeon, right?” asks the man, looking at the entrance. “Shouldn’t it be going down?”

 

His party-member places a hand on his shoulder, gesturing around to the area. “Pretty sure the other dungeons I’ve been to didn’t have a hot-spring either,” she says.

 

“Fair point.”

 

It’s quiet for a while.

 

“So… what’s wrong with it?” asks the male elf. “Should we go inside and look? It doesn’t look so bad,” he says, scanning the area. “If it’s a new dungeon, everything is probably still super low level.”

 

“It’s clearly a holy place,” replies the other elf, gesturing to the statues around them. “Listen…” she says, lifting a finger.

 

“To wha-”

 

“— Shh!” She hushes the man, holding a finger to his lips.

 

The four of them stand there in silence, listening to the noises of the world around them.

 

The river babbles, carrying a quiet song of the melusine, which is indistinguishable from the excitable, chirping birds who surround the tower. The leaves of the dense forest, lush and verdant, rustle in quiet unison as a soft breeze moves through the glade.

 

Peaceful. It is simply peaceful.

 

“Don’t you feel it?” she asks, breaking the spell of the world. She leans down and runs her hands across the soft, blueish grass. “This place is sacred,” she explains, picking up a pinch of dirt and smelling it.

 

“Sacred?” asks the man, lifting an eyebrow. “It’s just a weird dungeon, isn’t it?”

 

The elf shakes her head, getting up. “This place is touched by the divine,” she says, looking around. “This is a special place,” she explains. “Don’t treat it like it’s just some hole in the ground.”

 

The tower rumbles and the four of them look back towards it, as it grows another floor in height.

 

“How the hell…” mutters the man.

 

But the elf lets out an awed gasp, watching it rise. She clenches her hands together by her heart.

 

New Area
~ [Dungeon] ~
Floor {12}
The twelfth floor of the tower dungeon. It is currently empty

Capacity: {26} Monster-Points

Traps: 02 Monster-Point prices per monster F-Rank: 01 E-Rank: 02 D-Rank: 04 C-Rank: 08 B-Rank: 16 A-Rank: 32 S-Rank: 64 SS-Rank: 128 SSS-Rank: 256

The next sub-boss/challenge room will be available in {03} floors.

The next boss arena will be available in {08} floors.

 

 

Isaiah opens its eyes, returning to its body from the vision of a statue on the grounds.

 

It knows it shouldn’t watch them. But it is hard to resist. Instead, it looks down at the uthra, flying around. “White. How are the tunnels going?” asks Isaiah.

 

“Fantastic!” replies White. “Our stockpile is full of stones, so I’ve stopped carving them for now,” says the uthra, pointing at the mountain of bricks down to the side of the tower. “But it seems that we have some gold down near the tower,” it explains. “I expect that if we search, we will find some in the river-sediment as well.”

 

“Gold?” asks Isaiah, thinking for a while. Gold is good. Humans love gold. Plus, it’s a beautiful metal. They can do a lot with gold that fits into the theme of the tower.

 

Isaiah blinks, realizing that Crystal seems to have infected it with his design philosophy.

 

“Bring some to Gray,” orders Isaiah. “Have him forge something with it.”

 

“Anything in particular?” asks White.

 

Isaiah thinks for a moment, looking down towards the intruders below. The others have moved on, recollecting by the hot-spring. But the pious elf remains outside by herself, her hands folded in prayer. “A token,” says Isaiah. “Tell Gray to craft a token,” it explains.

 

~ [Prayers] ~

A prayer has been said at the shrine.

+01 EXP

EXP: 589/750

 

White nods and flies off.

 

Isaiah recalls from its human life the concept of a pilgrimage.

 

People of faith will often travel to marked locations of interest to prove themselves to their patrons, if not also to their own perceptions of self. Many routes of pilgrimage are rewarded with a symbolic token of some kind, a coin, a badge, a brand, some sort of a physical mark that serves as proof of accomplishment to other people.

 

It already has an ability correlating to this. So empowering this concept would only be wise.

 

However, this is a long-term plan, which will help little now in its time of need.

 

Isaiah sighs, looking down and away towards the tree.

 

It closes its eyes.

 

 

The blackbird sits in his next, huddled over the eggs.

 

He lifts his wing, looking down at them for a moment and Isaiah feels its heart skip a beat, thinking they’re about to break open.

 

But then the bird lowers his wing again and hunkers down, waiting more.

 

Isaiah returns to its own vision.

 

 

“Red.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Isaiah looks at it. “There is no magic that can change my shape?” it asks, already knowing the answer.

 

Red shakes her head. “If there was, I would have mentioned it already,” she replies. “Sorry.”

 

It’s silent for a time. “Do you think we will make it?” asks Isaiah, looking up towards the sky.

 

“At our current pace?” asks Red. “No.” Isaiah’s heart falters. “We’re at floor twelve and, let me be honest,” says Red, looking up. “Sky’s still pretty fucking far away, considering we only have a few days left.”

 

It’s quiet again.

 

“— But maybe we can work faster?” suggests Red.

 

Isaiah shakes its head. “Thank you, Red,” it says. “You all work very hard now.”

 

Red rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t talking about our work-ethic, dummy,” she says. “I was talking about our actual capacity to do work. We’re level one,” she explains, pointing at the other uthra. “If you upgrade us to level two, we can work faster.”

 

Isaiah’s eyes go wide. “What?!” asks Isaiah. “Red! Why didn’t you mention this before?!” it asks in a screech, spinning around to face Red.

 

Red tilts her head, tapping it. “What? You bird-brain, why would I?” she asks. “Isn’t it obvious that we’d be better at level two than at level one? Why do I have to explain that?”

 

“- How?” asks Isaiah, leaning in towards Red. If there is a way, then it must take advantage of it. It was about to give up, but this could mean that there’s still a chance!

 

“Well, we need experience-points too,” explains Red.

 

Isaiah frowns. “You will die,” it says. “You are not meant to fight.”

 

“Correct,” says Red. “That’s why we don’t get them from fighting,” she explains. She lifts a finger, pointing at Isaiah. “We get them from you.”

 

“Me?” asks Isaiah.

 

“Sure. You can drain your own experience points to level us up,” explains Red. “The same goes for other monsters too, by the way.”

 

Isaiah holds out its hand. Red lands on it. “What do I do?”

 

“Hell if I know,” asks Red. “I’ve never been on your side of the deal before,” she says, shrugging. “I guess you just kinda… do it?”

 

At this point, Isaiah will try anything. It takes a deep breath, focusing on its hand, on its energy, like it does when it powers up any other part of the dungeon.

 

~ [Isaiah] ~

(Isaiah) Upgraded: [Summoned Worker {1}] to [Summoned Worker {2}]

Cost: {100} EXP

EXP: 489/750

 

~ [Uthra {2}] ~
Class: Minion Element: HOLY Type: Worker Category: Spirit Rank: E ↗ Level: 05

An Uthra.

Uthra are small, celestial light-world entities. Born out of the magical cosmic rivers, known as leylines, they are composed entirely out of holy-magic. Uthras serve as guardians, wards and builders.

They are similar to fairies, cherubs and sprites.

HP: 10/10 ↗

SOUL: 10/10 ↗

 

NEW - (WORKER) ABILITY -

[Resource Deposit](Passive)

All harvested resources are instantly added to the stockpile and do not need to be physically carried there. All construction materials and tools are instantly available when needed, as long as they are available in the stockpile.

 

NEW - (WORKER) ABILITY -

[Minor Bolt](Active)

Attacks a target up to a distance of 5m with a magical bolt of holy energy.

 

Isaiah feels something pulling all the way through its body, out towards the tips of its taloned fingers. A soft glow encapsulates Red, intermingling with the normal, passive shine of her aura. The uthra, the size of Isaiah’s hand, grows an additional half of her current height. Her glow becomes brighter.

 

She stretches out her arms, wiggling her fingers and rolling her neck. “Nice!” says Red. “That feels great, oh man -” She places her hands on the bottom of her hips and stretches out her back. “Thanks.”

 

Isaiah looks at the abilities. These do indeed look very useful. Maybe not so much for Red, who is a generalist. But for Crystal and Green, who are in charge of construction, for sure. It desperately needs to upgrade them first and then maybe White, who is down below ground, collecting materials.

 

“I’ll go get them,” says Red, flying off. Isaiah blinks, surprised. Usually it's Crystal who reads its mind, not Red.

 

No matter. It will drain its experience points significantly, but this seems like a reasonable sacrifice to make, if it means the tower will be built faster.

 

Isaiah senses that somebody enters into the tower from outside.

 

But this time, it does not look.