FINAL CORE : [A holy dungeon-core litRPG]

Razmatazz

Hello. I'm shamelessly using the same trick again.

I have some very high quality, full body Scion art for you guys. But I sadly can't show it to you here because it's far too NSFW for Royalroad. Thankfully, you can see the full image on the DISCORD!

 

 

The richest man in the world is a man with no money, no possessions, and nothing to do except to grab hold of the cradling arms that hold him aloft.

No godly king can come close to his wealth. No proud magister has the potential to reach his infinite abundance. No dragon, laying its mass over a trove of gold, has even a scrap of the power of this simple entity, which holds the greatest treasure in all of the world in an amount that none of these creatures have.

– Time.

And this entity is the infant, the newborn, the crying, screaming, flailing thing that wails for reasons we can never know. It has time. Money can be found, earned, lost, and even bought if one is clever.

But you can never have more time. You only have what you have and not a single scrap more.

Don’t waste it.

 

~ A scrawling found in a forgotten scratchpad, in the Rubystone Teahouse on the western bay of the far-eastern shore, home of the Vildt species of people

 

 

Isaiah sits on the branch of the very-big-tree with the golden sword in its lap, the tower rumbling one final time. Its feathers rustle and shake, quivering as the construction, reaching high, high up towards the sky, comes to a halt. It is high enough to reach the global ambient winds that span the world.

 

The lights of many colors come to return to the roost. The uthra, all of them, fly up, sensing Isaiah’s beckoning call.

 

New Area
~ [Dungeon] ~
Floor {100}
The one-hundredth floor of the tower dungeon. It is currently empty.

Capacity: {01} Boss

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

 

Isaiah looks at them all as they gather. They’re all different colors, sizes, and shapes. All of them are different in their talents and skills and individualities. There are many colors of life present here, and many more colors left down below in the graves.

 

Without further comment, it lifts a hand into the air.

 

“Ah, fuck…” says Red.

 

“What?” asks Crystal.

 

“I have neglected you all for too long,” says Isaiah. “It was foolish of me to not offer you a shield when sending you out into the dark reaches.”

 

A glow encases its hands and then swirls around the uthra.

 

~ [Isaiah] ~

(Isaiah) Upgraded all: [Summoned Worker {01}] || [Summoned Worker {01}] to [Summoned Worker {03}]

(Isaiah) upgraded all [Summoned Worker {04}] to [Summoned Worker {05}]

(Isaiah) upgraded all [Summoned Worker {05}] to [Summoned Worker {06}] Cost: {50} SOUL / {1700} EXP

 

All of the smaller ones shift and change, undergoing a significant development of body to that of a stage three uthra, falling down to the grass of the roost as their wings struggle to grow as fast as their bodies.

 

All of the level fours shift to level five.

 

Red alone shifts to a level six version of the worker entity, her body stretching out further still, moving on to the proportions and size of a fully-grown adult human, barring her wings and constant crimson aura.

 

~ [Uthra {06}] ~
Class: Minion Element: HOLY Type: Worker Category: Spirit Rank: C ↗ Level: 40↗

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: 65/65↗

SOUL: 65/65↗

 

NEW - (WORKER) ABILITY -

[Significant Divinity](Active)

This worker-entity is directly tied to the holy manifestation of the dungeon. Allows it to teleport anywhere where the name of Isaiah has been uttered.

 

Isaiah watches them all change, growing into their bodies, as it were. The uthra look themselves over in confusion, some of them instead opting to look at Red, who is certainly the odd one out here, being now as about as long and slender as Isaiah is.

 

“Things are changing, and I find that my foolishness is the only constant,” says Isaiah, looking them over before glancing down at the sword again. “The tower has reached floor one-hundred and yet…” It looks up towards the sky. “We are nowhere near the heavens.”

 

“Don’t worry,” says Crystal, shaking himself out. “We’ll get there. Construction is going well, and I’ll really be able to speed up now.”

 

Isaiah nods. “Thank you, Crystal.” It rises to its feet, holding out a hand to help Magenta up to her feet. She’s grown too big for her robe that she always wears, tearing it and getting stuck in a mess of strings. “My apologies, Magenta,” it says. It hadn’t considered this obvious issue before transforming her. “Teal. Please make a new robe for Magenta as your highest priority.”

 

“Sure thing,” says Teal. Magenta mumbles something, never being much of a talker.

 

“There is a flaw with my design for the construction of the tower; we will speak of this in a moment,” says Isaiah. “But for now, we must focus on the troubles at hand.” It places the blade of the sword down into the grass, looking off over the side of the tower, towards the distance.

 

The human city is aglow, full of men and women at furious work — a disturbed hive. “Spring has come to an end now,” says Isaiah. “And it seems that we have come unto a season of blood.”

 

“I think we've handled it well so far,” says Gray. “Isn’t everything fine now?”

 

“No,” replies Isaiah. “The humans are still coming. They will continue to do so, and I have realized the folly of my thinking,” says the entity. “I have been too concerned with a problem here, an issue there, a trouble here, instead of focusing on the deepest root problem itself — the gods,” says Isaiah, rising into the air and gesturing for the uthra to follow it. “Thankfully, I have at least a hint of foresight within myself,” says Isaiah as they all rise up into the clouds.

 

Several experience windows appear, signaling failed dungeon incursion attempts, likely because of the suddenly rising difficulty.

 

They all hover far above the tower, straight above the roost, and look down towards it.

 

The white, central tower stands in the middle of the round, floating island, and three segments protrude from it.

 

All three of them are external islands with sub-towers connected to the core-tower via two straight, stiff bridges at the bottom and top of each section. All three of them slowly orbit, rotating around the tower in a perfect circle on the rail mechanisms that Isaiah had told Crystal to install. Segment seven, comprising floors seventy to eighty, spins rather quickly around the tower. Segment eight, comprising floors eighty to ninety, spins somewhat slower around it, extended further out on long, spanning bridges. Finally, segment nine, comprising floors ninety to one-hundred – the final island – spins the slowest; its bridges are also shorter.

 

“We, I, have been creatures of this human world for so long,” starts Isaiah, its massive wings easily holding it aloft. “That I have become unknowingly bound to the shackles of human thinking and logic.” It looks at its pearl-colored hand, the colors of the uthras contrasting behind its talons against the storm clouds in the distance. “I have been unable to see beyond it. My design was for a tower to reach the gods, and so, I set forth with bricks and stone for you all to build, as if I were a human, building a human construct.”

 

Isaiah looks down through its fingers, staring at the tower and the pieces of it that move in synchronized unison.

 

“— It’s a clock,” says Orange, realizing, looking at the view of the tower from a perfect angle from up above. The middle segment moves, ticking as if it were a minute hand on a clock, as the fastest section makes a full rotation of the core tower.

 

“Indeed,” says Isaiah, lifting its gaze towards the heavens. “It is.” Isaiah looks at the uthra. “We will never appease the humans, appease the witch, or appease every chirping, squeaking mouth that hangs down below my tree,” says the entity. “My heart yearns to feed, to shelter, and to nurture them all. But my scarred hands know that they will only bite and claw if I continue this foolish game.”

 

“Are we finally going to kill them all?!” asks Red excitedly, flying in closer. Her hands are clenched in excitement.

 

“No,” replies Isaiah, looking around the world. “However, we will send them a message.”

 

Red looks at it and then sighs. “Oh… and what’s that gonna be?” she asks, let down. “’No more free hugs’?”

 

“No,” repeats Isaiah. It lifts a hand, pointing the sword past Red and down towards the tower that moves and ticks away, a perfect clock visible from the sky and from the heavens. “My message is one that is written in your spirit, Red,” says Isaiah.

 

A glow escapes the blade, drifting down around the island and the tower, encapsulating it in a wash of dungeon-magic.

 

A loud, audible ticking comes to their ears.

 

“Time is the only thing that any of us have, and it is so dearly precious. I am sick of wasting it by climbing to the gods,” it says. “- I want them to come to me. But I know that they will not.”

 

~ [Dungeon] ~

Sub-Attribute [Seasonality] has been applied to the HOLY-TOWER [CLOCK-TOWER]: Time is ticking. The clock-tower continues to work, its massive mechanisms signaling the end of every single passing moment that might one day collect into a full season of life.

 

~ [Dungeon] ~

[CLOCK-TOWER]

Time is ticking.

The clock-tower continues to work, its massive mechanisms signaling the end of every single passing moment that might one day collect into a full season of life.

Effect: Creates a new GLOBAL-QUEST: [FINAL CORE] that is offered to every member of every sentient race.

Effect: Given the cascade of magical energies moving through the leylines in tightly synchronized pulses, odd time distortions may randomly occur around the tower

 

~ [QUEST] ~
'FINAL CORE' Time Remaining: 21:59:46 Difficulty: Extremely Easy

The grand tower of Isaiah seeks to bridge the gap between the heavens and the mortal world within this year of life, so that joy, sanctity, and hope might be restored to the lives of all living beings.

The world must change. It will change.

Quest Goal: Speak the name of Isaiah.

Quest reward: Your soul will be saved, as will your days upon this mortal world.

Quest Failure Effect: {UNKNOWN}

 

Red whistles. “That’s pretty dramatic,” she says. “But don’t you think that they’re gonna be mad about this?”

 

“I expect them to be,” says Isaiah. “But what difference does it make?” it asks. “They are already mad.” It looks towards the sky. “This way, I will be strong enough to keep you all safe from them,” it says. “And I will be strong enough to keep them safe from themselves.” Isaiah shakes its head. “A mother, a father — they must sometimes be cruel in order to prove their love.”

 

~ [Grand Icon] ~

The name of Isaiah has been uttered in a far away place.

+947 EXP

+1678 EXP

The name of Isaiah has been uttered nearby.

+310 EXP

EXP: 6500/6500

 

Windows appear all around itself, dozens of them, hundreds of them, as people all around the world, perhaps in confusion, utter the name of Isaiah.

 

Level Up! ~ [Isaiah] ~
You are now a level {17} dungeon-core! You are now a level {18} dungeon-core! You are now a level {19} dungeon-core! Level: 19↗ Experience: 471/10000 Attribute: HOLY Soul-Points: 58/58↗ Presence: 6.852 km↗ Obols: 577

 

~ [Isaiah] ~ [+03 Ability points] You may choose {03} new abilities.

 

Experience-points flood in, generating a constant stream of levels.

 

Isaiah stares down at the spinning clock-tower, signaling the presence of the limited capacity of life. It comes and it goes so fast, does it not?

 

It’s time to stop staying in the middle, trying to play it safe forever, and to use this chance at a new season to make the most of it.

 

Summer has just begun, and it will, just as quickly, come to an end.

 

Isaiah will not waste another season. It will deal with the witch. It will deal with the humans, and it will deal with the gods.

 

Level Up! ~ [Isaiah] ~
You are now a level {20} dungeon-core! You are now a level {21} dungeon-core! You are now a level {22} dungeon-core! You are now a level {23} dungeon-core! Level: 23↗ Experience: 471/16425 Attribute: HOLY Soul-Points: 66/66↗ Presence: 7.652 km↗ Obols: 577

 

The landscape down below, all around the island sunders, quaking as it rips free from the ground and violently shoots up to meet the flying mass of land.

 

 

Razmatazz

Power-leveling go brrrrrrr

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