FINAL CORE : [A holy dungeon-core litRPG]

I worked on this small farm my entire life. It was my father’s father’s farm and now it’s mine. For generations, we’ve worked this land with our hands, ploughs and animals.

— But now it’s failing, under my watch.

The specific, low-yield, high-value crops that we raise here, as one of the only operations in the region, are extremely sensitive to changes in the environment. We supply half of the whole south, you know? Just this farm.

Anyways, the crops – they need precisely the right amount of wind, rain, and sunlight, day in and day out. Even a tiny change, like a week of too cloudy weather in summer, is enough to kill a chunk of the harvest.

So what the hell am I supposed to do now?

The tower outside of the city, in the distant forest, silhouettes the sunlight, casting a long shadow over the world that reaches my lands and covers them during the most important hours. My crops are failing. How am I supposed to feed my family like this? We have some reserves to last a while, but…

- If this keeps up, I’ll be the last one on the farm. My kids will have to go to the city to learn other professions and trades. It’ll be the end of us.

 

~ Concerns of a farmer of high potency Medea’s Mallow, whose fields sit in the shadow of the tower of Isaiah

 

 

~ [Red] ~
Uthra, Female, Worker {06} Location: Floor six of the tower

 

It is a little while later on.

 

Red hovers there in the tower with crossed arms, staring at the monsters on the floor — A shadowy priestess and a large stone golem, intricately hewn out of the same white-stone as the tower itself. Water runs in small channels through the floors of the arena, trickling down off of the sides of the tower’s open face.

 

The priestess and the golem stand there.

 

It’s quiet.

 

“Cut the shit,” says Red, lifting an eyebrow.

 

It remains quiet. There is only the sound of trickling water.

 

The uthra flies in towards the two of them, pressing her face close to the priestess’. She snaps her fingers a few times next to her ear. “I know you can hear me.”

 

No response.

 

The uthra narrows her eyes, staring at the priestess. “Fine. You wanna play it the hard way, huh?” asks the uthra. She leans in, placing a hand against the priestess’ face to pry open her eye. “That’s fine with me,” says Red. She reaches into her robe, pulling out an old dagger that someone had dropped somewhere. “I go hard.”

 

Still no response.

 

Red lifts the dagger up, moving it towards the entirely static, unblinking, unmoving eye.

 

“- Check your potions. Watch the knockback,” instructs a voice from the side. Red turns her head, tsking. Some adventurers are on their way up to floor six.

 

“This isn’t over,” says Red, leaning in towards the priestess.

 

The shadowy priestess doesn’t respond.

 

Red flies away before the adventurers get up the staircase and see her.

 

 

~ [Beulah] ~
Human, Male, Thief Location: Floor eighteen of the tower

 

Beulah replaces the fabric of the shrine, which is burning through.

 

He doesn’t really know how often he’s done this, exactly. A few hundred times by now, for sure. Essentially, every day, he runs around the shrine and replaces its fabrics. He’s probably gone through a mountain of the material by now, enough to build his own tower.

 

But as far as he knows or cares, he’ll be doing this until retirement.

 

There’s a lot of talk around the tower about soldiers and sieges and all of that stuff. But he’s never really around for those meetings. He spends all of his days down here. He doesn’t even know when he went back to the house that had been built for him upstairs, on the roost.

 

Not that he’s ungrateful, but he just likes it here more.

 

Beulah finishes the door and then walks down the shrine. The floors are made of sturdy wood, and the walls are too, barring all of the sliding constructions that tend to break very easily. But they need to be this way, so the shrine-maidens can get around the shrine easily and quickly.

 

— The sliding door to his right opens.

 

Beulah turns to look, but there is nobody there.

 

Looking around himself, he looks inside the room, but sees nobody there. Shrugging to himself, he slides the door back closed and continues on down the hallway.

 

— It slides open again.

 

He pops back into the room, looking around.

 

Nobody.

 

He lifts his gaze to the door, wondering if there’s something wrong with the sliding mechanism. But he wouldn’t know what… It's all just wood.

 

Maybe there’s a loose splinter that’s… springing the wood back away? No…

 

He walks outside, looking at it from the other side.

 

— It slides back shut in front of his face.

 

“…Huh…”

 

He slides it back open.

 

Someone is standing on the other side.

 

The man stares at the long-haired figure with two sharp, pointed foxes’ ears atop her head. A shrine-maiden. Several long, fluffy foxes’ tails rise up from behind her, wrapping themselves around her torso and face as a place to hide behind as she stands in the open. He’s never actually seen one up close before. They’re always skittish, always vanishing around corners in the distance.

 

He blinks. “Hi,” says Beulah tentatively lifting a hand to half-wave, looking at her.

 

— The door slams shut.

 

Beulah stands there, staring. He scratches his head, wondering if he and one of them just ran into each other by accident. It was bound to happen eventually.

 

— The door slides open a crack.

 

It’s quiet.

 

“H- h- hello,” replies a voice from the other side, breaking the silence.

 

Beulah blinks. “You can talk?” he asks. “I’m… I mean, it’s nice to meet you.”

 

The door rattles, as if someone were fighting with themselves to close it again. “I… h- hello,” replies the voice, repeating itself.

 

“HEY!” yells a sharp, loud voice from the side, back from the entrance of the shrine.

 

Beulah reaches towards the sliding door as it immediately slams back shut. The sound of footsteps coming from the other side of it, running away, can be heard.

 

He turns around, watching as Red floats into the room. Her eyes wander around the shrine, before falling on him. She lifts a finger, pointing at him. “Hey creep, you see any weird shit going on around here?” asks the uthra.

 

“H- huh?” asks Beulah. “Like what?”

 

Red looks around the shrine in suspicion. “Just weird shit, okay?” she asks. “Where are the foxes?”

 

“The shrine-maidens?” asks Beulah. He shrugs. “I ain’t never seen them. Dunno.” He points over his shoulder. “They’re probably somewhere in the shrine.”

 

Red tsks, glaring at him. “Smart ass,” she snaps. “Listen. The fakes in the tower are acting fucky,” says the uthra. “Watch your back around them.”

 

“What are you talking about?” asks Beulah. “They’re just homunculi.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” replies Red. “And humans are just meaty sacks full of shit,” she says. “Yet here you are.” She continues scanning the area, but she doesn’t seem to find whatever it is she’s looking for. “You see anything weird, you come to me first,” says Red.

 

“Uh… sure,” replies Beulah, shrugging. “Not sure what you’re talking about, though.”

 

She eyes him up and down and then flies off, vanishing back out of the front entrance.

 

Beulah rubs the back of his head and then looks over his shoulder, towards the sliding door.

 

A man of his profession knows that it's often best to keep secrets.

 

 

~ [Isaiah] ~

 

Curious.

 

Isaiah taps against the new window that had appeared, slowing its ascension.

 

- [SYSTEM WARNING] -
Given suspected extreme system manipulation, your EXP gains will be slowed by 75% until a system - inspection of previously transpired events is complete.

Upon approval, all experience-gains will be restored.

Upon inspection failure, disciplinary measures will be undertaken.

~ Malfi

 

Very curious, indeed. Isaiah narrows its eyes.

 

Malfi.

 

Finally. Something. Anything. A sign that she's real. It knew it, but it's still good to have something tangible. So what is this? Is she trying to avoid being found? Or is she perhaps simply hoping to slow what is heading her way?

 

~ [Grand Icon] ~

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

+ 306 (1224) EXP

+ 226 (907) EXP

+ 292 (1170) EXP

 

Level Up! ~ [Isaiah] ~
You are now a level {50} dungeon-core! You are now a level {51} dungeon-core! You are now a level {52} dungeon-core! Level: 52↗ Experience: 1777/62750 Attribute: HOLY Soul-Points: 124/124↗ Presence: 13.452 km↗ Obols: 577

 

Isaiah swipes the window away, as it hovers on the southern edge of the island, off of which runs a grand cascade of water from the ocean, pouring back down off of the edge in what is perhaps the world’s greatest fall.

 

“Crystal,” orders Isaiah.

 

“On it!” replies Crystal. He grabs Orange and sets to work on creating an intricate magical set-up like with the river, allowing the segment of ocean atop the island to never run dry so that the enormous salt-waterfall on the new southern edge of the island might persist forever. Isaiah finds that it likes this piece of the world. Besides, it will allow access to new water monsters in the dungeon’s territory.

 

It looks to the east, towards the corrupted, befouled, blackened lands that have become a part of the territory as well – all of Perchta’s rotting woodlands. They sit there, festering on the edge of the island, like a rotting malignancy in the cherished temple of its home.

 

NEW - (HOLY) ABILITY -

[Sacred Water](Active)

Cost: {06} SOUL

Allows the creation of [Holy-Water], out of any source of clean water.

[Holy-Water] is imbued with strong cleansing properties.

 

NEW - (SEASONALITY) ABILITY -

[Forbearance](Active)

Cost: {06} SOUL

Allows the control and manipulation of weather events within the dungeon territory.

 

Isaiah lifts its sword towards the clouds, which remain so ever distant. A wind begins to grow, disturbing the rushing surge beneath itself as the gust wraps around the blade.

 

Isaiah has used: [Sacred Water]

 

It plunges the sword down into the lake of salt-water, atop the island – the piece of ocean that it has taken as its own. A ripple shoots out, throwing a massive wave out in all directions, as the ocean water of this small segment is tinged with holy energy. A surge of water rushes over the edge of the island and out into all directions as a powerful ripple moves outwardly.

 

Its other hand, Isaiah lifts toward the sky, spinning its talon like the hand of a clock.

 

(Isaiah) has used: [Forbearance {Rain}]

 

The clouds begin to drift inward, moving over the island at a slow and steady pace, darkening ever more as they come.

 

Isaiah watches.

 

The rain will continue for a while, and it will take more of itself out of the cleansed waters. The clouds will disperse this healing water over the land and over the island. It will, with some time, remove all of the rotting tinge of the witch.

 

Things can be destroyed, ruined, in an instant.

 

But healing… healing often takes much longer. This is simply the nature of the beast. Yet nature often has a way of overcoming such difficulties.

 

~ [Grand Icon] ~

The name of Isaiah has been uttered somewhere nearby.

+ 114 (457) EXP

 

(Isaiah) has used combined spell: [Blessed Rains] [Holy-Water] + [Forbearance]

 

The rain begins to fall.

 

Playing nice is no longer an option. It will continue to be kind. But humanity must come to understand that it is not here to be their friend, tool, or plaything. They are not in the role of the superior, of the matriarch, or of the patriarch.

 

That is its position to grasp.

 

It is perhaps time to make such things clear in order to avoid such ugly incidents in the future. It is not a desire born out of wrath or anger; it is born of their fear of it. Rather, it is because it is simply what has to be done for everyone’s safety.

 

Isaiah rises up into the sky. Another light flies its way. Gray.

 

“Hello, Gray,” says Isaiah. It instinctively holds out a hand for Gray to land on. But Gray is too large to do so now. That hurts in an oddly unexpected way. Isaiah looks out over the island from far above it.

 

“Hey, sorry. I wanted to ask you,” says Gray. “What am I supposed to do with all of the metal we’ve been stockpiling?” asks the uthra. “It’s a lot. A lot - a lot,” he explains. “More than we’re ever going to come close to using.”

 

“Make halberds,” says Isaiah.

 

“Halberds?” asks Gray. “That’s oddly specific.”

 

Isaiah nods. “We have soldiers now on the island, Gray,” it explains. “I believe many of them will stay, and I believe it would be wise to allow them the tools of their trade.”

 

“What? To invade the tower with?” asks Gray. “We already have tons of adventures.”

 

“No,” replies Isaiah, lifting a hand. “- To defend it.”

 

NEW - (HOLY) ABILITY -

[Divine Command](Active)

Allows you to directly project your voice to all members of the faith within your territory.

 

“Gray,” says Isaiah. “When Crystal and the others are done here, go and reestablish a connection to the ground with a new tower where the staircase was,” it orders. “Oh… and if you have too much metal…” It looks back down towards the edge of the island, several kilometers up in the air. “- Make a ladder.”

 

“What like… all the way to the ground?” asks Gray. "That's like... six kilometers long, at least? Hell of a ladder."

 

“Yes,” replies Isaiah, nodding. "It will be."

 

Gray looks at it curiously and then flies off.

 

Isaiah then sets to work, making right what ought to be around the island, as the pure rains fall down all around it, washing away the fetid smears to the east.