Castaway core a litrpg f.., p.63
Castaway Core: A LitRPG Fantasy Dungeon, page 63
“These options are not great. I know. We need to make an informed decision.”
“Our only real option is the door and you know it.” Mumbled Mudan.
“Yeah, but it gives me weird vibes.”
“Is it your ability speaking?”
“What? No. Just my intuition.”
“It’s nothing, then.”
“Sure. Sure. You can interpret it this way.” Knut waved his hand in defeat. “Do as you wish… Let’s go.”
The door was hard to open. It seemed like there was some kind of safety mechanism involved, trying to keep it closed. This didn’t discourage them as they pushed and pushed, their combined effort slowly managing to force a small opening. One by one the humans slipped through before unavoidably it closed, temporarily trapping the adventurers in the next chamber.
“Whew. That wasn’t so bad.” Knut spoke aloud, observing the ornately carved rock door. Yet when nobody answered he turned around full of worry.
“Hey, guys what are you…” His words trailed off.
“What the fuck is that? By the Belle sweaty tits!” He stared agape at the chamber, trembling in fear.
“By the Gods!”
“Ahhhh… ahhh…”
“I told you, I told you… you weren’t listening! We’re dead men walking!”
Sounds of mewling, prayers, and pure horror assaulted his senses. Knut, however, didn’t have time to reprimand his companions.
He was busy staring at the room full of plants with eyes.
Dozens of creepy eyeballs were filling every free space in the chamber, more and more of them noticing the intruders and turning to get a better look. Their unblinking stares weren’t hostile nor friendly, just… detached. Like a crazy mage observing an animal lying on the sacrificial table.
The only thing that allowed Knut to keep his calm was the fact that his ability wasn’t screaming out, which meant this situation wasn’t lethal.
Small comfort in this nightmare.
Then, he noticed the blue box floating before him and screamed in surprise.
“A fucking Trial? Out here? By the mercy of the Gods… WHY?” A moment later he added. “The Trial of Greed… I don’t like the sound of that.”
As he read through the explanation his face flushed between happy and terrified expressions. Something that a certain Dungeon Core observed with fascination.
Knut mumbled. “Trial of combat… choose… can’t retreat… two fights.” He corrected himself. “At least two fights… but then… magical weapon. Armor. Haaah…”
“We’re going to die down here… Am I right?”
Chapter 63
Uno
I peered over the third floor Trial in amusement. Somebody managed to reach it at last! Well, to tell the truth, it wasn’t really that big of a challenge. Yet for some reason, the adventurer teams seemed to avoid it.
Come to think of it the same could be said about the whole third level. At this moment from three ways down humans had discovered only a single one. Both the “true” staircase guarded by Flamecaller - the Ironflame Rat King (and his entourage), and the path leading under the Central Pond stalked by Guardian and his kobold minions were hidden from their sight.
And it seemed like this state of affairs would persist as long as I didn’t repair the hole left by the half-elven princess. It was an easy, unguarded way down, so why search for alternatives while it was available? I could certainly understand that notion - that laziness. The situation wasn’t helped by the fact that the hole stuck out like a sore thumb, located smack dab in the middle of my second-floor eastern tunnel.
Now that I think about it this might have added to the meekness of the explorers. I mean, anyone in his right mind would be worried about the monster (or, in this case - a person) capable of such destruction. Especially since the half-elves didn’t describe the contents of their adventures to the humans - thus nobody in Silver Oasis knew the truth, Lord Hawk being the only exception. Still, it seemed like he didn’t further share his information. Was it a lapse of judgment on his part, simple forgetfulness, or maybe a part of the larger plot?
I shrugged.
It wasn’t important.
There were more pressing matters I had to take care of. The most irritating one was this itchy feeling telling me time and time again to repair the damage done to the second floor as soon as possible. These ideas were probably a part of my Dungeon Core instincts. Right now it was easy to squash them, overruling the need with logic but the same couldn’t be said about the future. Creating new minions and preparing the laboratory floor put a strain on my resources. It was only a matter of time before I was forced to surrender, stemming the flow of the intruders down to a manageable stream. Which in the process would announce to the world that I remained unbroken.
It had been some time since I was declared dead and both of my shallowest floors were now being constantly raided. Or should I say that the first floor had been completely tamed and the excursion parties continued to spread their tendrils to the second floor?
Most of the exploratory teams avoided moving east towards the glaring hole and instead focused on either farming my minions in the Central Pond Room or exploring the three other cardinal directions.
Well… right now only two of them remained, though.
Since not a single human returned from the western tunnel (where always hungry Glass Progenitor was dwelling under the waves) that road of expansion was abandoned too. Despite the lack of information (or because of it?) the word of mouth ended up creating some otherworldy horrors much more interesting than those I had in stock. Still, the gossipers were uniform in claiming that some man-eating monster was behind the disappearances. They weren't entirely wrong…
A combination of the tentacled monstrosity and Non’s hatred towards the Geinard’s Kingdom troops meant a zero survival rate for those foolish enough to explore the Underground Lake area.
With two of the four paths barred, sentients turned their greedy gazes elsewhere. Their recon teams encountered heavy Lebir resistance to the north but that didn’t dissuade them - it was even the other way around! Many prowling monsters meant better experience and loot after all - at least that was what the dungeon logic dictated.
Not dying instantly was also a plus.
Thus my guardposts defending Battery Devourer farms came under heavy fire. Still, unlike before they weren’t critical to my effort. I already stockpiled more Crackling Maces than I could possibly use so the rest of the monsters just kinda… grew in silence?
With time the resistance was broken… and I couldn’t stop laughing when I gazed at the exploration team’s bitter faces. They battled away hordes of my monsters, braved dangers and collected scars only to be rewarded with a field full of Battery Devourers, the man-eating plants shaking happily at the sight of incoming prey.
Unfortunately, they pushed through once again, the red-haired Charles showering the flora with his destructive magic. Most of the Devourers succumbed to the fire, their flammable stalks and leaves turning to ashes.
Their demise pained me greatly, yet I knew that they would repopulate in time. Unbothered by the sentients who lost their drive when it became obvious that no grand treasure was hidden behind the backs of my guardians they would grow back or simply *pop* into existence.
This result meant that the situation in the southern tunnels had changed. The minions out there were a combination of Ironflame Rats, Rat Temple Warriors (beasties skewed towards the fire element), and Tamed Glass Dragonflies who carried Ratling pilots. In the back, large numbers of Lebirs were stationed - just in case. They looked a bit different than the rest of my forces.
Their armor was carved with what I remembered about runes… which wasn’t much. It was an experiment of sorts. When it wasn’t working in bore-- I mean in desperation - I started to replace these mystic symbols with various shapes, adding a danger factor to their look. I was trying to check if adding these would produce high-level minions.
Yet it turned out that the changes weren’t enough, outside their fancy armor the performance in battle was pretty much the same, thus the experiment ended up in failure. I decided to keep them though - you never knew when they would come in handy. Even if half of them looked like rejects from Fallout or Wasteland series.
Anyway, these halls were the current target of the Silver Oasis natives’ expansion. Their adventuring teams - or should I call them militia squads? - smashed their heads against my defenses many times. Each of their visits was repelled by combined forces of Ironflame Rats led by their Temple Warrior brethren. The fire magic that invaders brought to the table proved more a detriment than help, my servants proving resistant or outright immune to its effects. Adding to this a constant harassment by the Dragonflies and their rock-throwing riders meant that no intrusion managed to make it past the first room - the grandly named Metallic Jungle.
The place was full of silvery trees and other vegetation making it hard to keep a stable formation. The Ratlings of all types were able to strike without warning, their hit-and-run tactics impossible to avoid. Adding to it, pockets of Lebirs operated in small, cohesive teams, attacking and then retreating under the command of Ratling’s Black Mages. Due to the difference in their performance, humans started to call them “runic undead” and classified the monsters to be an advanced form of the Lebirs. I hoped that this recognition would propel them into becoming something more, alas both their strength and behavior didn’t change. Yet.
Interestingly, the rumors about the third floor had already spread - the knowledge about Berserker’s appearance and powers were twisted by word of mouth but remained horrific enough to discourage most of the humans, leaving only stupid or desperate challengers to contend with.
And that neatly led me back to the team of criminals currently imprisoned in the Trial room on the third level. They weren’t the first to sneak into the dungeon in some senile hope to gain riches and power. On the contrary, they seem rather commonplace nowadays. All their predecessors ended up as fuel for my growth.
These guys, however, were a bit different - be it by luck or skill they managed to reach the trial room. But, as the doors closed behind them a familiar sense of panic engulfed the chamber. The feeling of losing control. The eye plants were watching the intruders intently, each of them recording the posture, used weapons, their expressions, and droplets of sweat slowly dripping from their faces, nourishing the ground.
After a beginning wave of emotion, the sentients kept to the middle of the room warily staring at the surrounding flora. Luckily for them, none of these plants were combat-capable. After a few minutes of this type of psychological warfare, nothing happened so the high tension had naturally passed. The invaders were free to investigate what really interested them - an invisible text, no doubt describing the Trial that stood before them.
I was curious once again - it was clear that the contents of their magical blue boxes differed from those presented to me. There was something else at work here, something that I failed to grasp. Shrugging, I forced the Trial description to appear before me. It had been some time since I made this place and a refresher was in order.
Trial of Greed
The trial encompasses the Hall of Eyes, Chamber of Daggers, Chamber of Swords, Chamber of Axes, Chamber of Spears, Chamber of Maces, Chamber of Shields, Chamber of Helmets, Chamber of Gauntlets, Chamber of Breastplates, Chamber of Greaves, the Great Greed Hallway and Cursed Golem Enclosure.
The rules of the trial are as follows:
- the challengers are allowed to walk into the Great Greed Hallway unmolested unless they dealt damage to non-hostile entities in the Hall of Eyes (in case of damage the curse-type punishments apply)
- the challengers are allowed to enter any of the Chambers on the condition that they have to defeat the Golem inside in order to proceed
- the Golems are armed with one piece of cursed equipment each
- each defeated Golem adds its piece of equipment to the Cursed Golem, raising the difficulty
- the main trial begins when the challengers open the Cursed Golem Enclosure or eliminate all auxiliary Golems
- once challengers enter the Trial they cannot escape unless it’s finished or all of them are dead
It was just like I remembered it… or was it? I could sense small discrepancies - like some things were clearer or even changed in the time I wasn’t looking. A few words here, a sentence there, and the meaning changed completely.
I stared at the blue box like my gaze could bore holes into it. An avalanche of questions followed, all left unanswered. I could feel something - someone - smirking back at me with deranged, happy joy.
With a shake of my head, the bright box dispersed into nothingness but the sense of wrongness remained. I felt it - the time was running out. Yet while the situation had changed - so what? I only needed to adapt and overcome, and - to tell the truth - what could this pathetic band of criminals even do to my honed war machines?
I already decided that I’ll survive, even against all the odds. Even if I have to… With another shake, I clear my head and focus. The invaders, that’s what’s the most important right now. Where was I? Right, third floor, the Hall of Eyes, and the humans were… here. Arguing.
Why I was not surprised?
“We can’t go back!” Knut bellowed, his teeth clenched. “This place won’t let us - read the description again, dammit!”
“But we need… we must… or we’ll die!” Silence’s tone was much too different from before. A broken man? Or just a good actor? I thought that I saw a flicker of coldness under his panicked expression.
“The Family’s man isn’t wrong, you know?” Mudan added his three cents to the discussion his eyes trembling each time they met the gaze of a camera.
“What do you want me to do? Search for a way out? I already checked! There isn’t any!”
“Really? Even with your skills?”
“By the Belle’s sweaty ass! I’m no ranger! How many times do I have to repeat that?” The lanky man punched the wall, sending a wave of unease through the lidless eyes observing them. Yet the threshold of damage was not reached, so no retaliatory curse was activated. “This place is far outside my knowledge. You all knew that. You all knew the risk.”
“I-I understand…” Mudan answered lifelessly, his earlier energy gone in a blink of an eye.
“Besides, did you even read the descriptor? The System’s magics are guaranteeing that we won’t leave before finishing up this place. Which means facing the boss.”
“I was hoping for a better solution.” Muttered Mudan. “Just thinking about facing the enemy as powerful as this mysterious roaming Guardian is enough to stop my fucking heart.”
“There isn’t any other way, old friend. The moment we stepped into this room the decision had been made!”
A heavy silence followed. It was Mudan who broke it with his solemn words.
“Then we’ll have to try to barrel through. Just do enough to survive - I am happy with the path of the least resistance!”
“That still means beating one of the Golems and then the Boss.” The slim thief rapped his fingers against the stone. “That’s a tall order for a rag-tag team of militia…”
“Fightin’!” Big Jon smiled, hobbling closer to the carved door leading deeper into the Trial.
“Wait! I said WAIT! You big, stupid log!” Knut shouted while running after his companion. Mudan, Silence, one of his minions, and the bald brothers were left behind, looking at each other in confusion.
“We better follow. I would prefer to leave this dreary room behind.” The fat man was sweating, his eyes glancing at the unblinking flora of the room. With a muffled sigh, he turned back to join his companions.
With a small nod, both of the brothers gripped their weapons, hurriedly following.
That left only Silence and his minion.
“Boss…” The subordinate whispered, his hand clutching the remaining blackjack. “What are we going to do now?”
“Shit. Shit. Shit!” Silence lost his earlier panicked demeanor, returning to a sly and ruthless visage. With nervous movements, he stroked the daggers hidden on his body while his gaze wandered. “We need something to show the Chief after the failure of this mission.”
“Failure? B-but we managed to discover the Trial. Isn’t that enough?”
“And who do you think will monopolize this place? The Family? Other syndicates? Local criminals?” He snorted. “Of course not! They’re going to fall into the hands of the nobles. Blueflames, Geinards - they’re all the same.”
“We can’t stop that from happening… even if we sabotage this team a secret that big won’t stay hidden for long.” Silence started to bite his nails. “But we can still profit. And with this, we’ll acquire a means of survival.”
“From the sale of magicked weapons?”
“Yes. The descriptor hinted at these being available as a reward for defeating the Golems during the Trial.”
“A real magical weapon would go for a fortune… especially since most of their production is limited to country-controlled dungeons. They rarely appear even on a black market.”
“True... That’s our chance.” Silence’s gaze landed on his subordinate. “Whatever happens you just need to follow my orders. Understood?”
“Of course!”
“Then go - join the rest of the gang and see what this place hides from us. A Forgotten Dungeon’s Trial… I wonder what it hides?” A small chuckle escaped his lips. “I need to think. In peace.”
“Yes, sir!”
As his subordinate left Silence’s countenance changed once again. The sure and cold expression he sported melted instantly replaced with wide-eyed terror.
“We are fucked. I am fucked. They won’t forgive me.”
He sniffed.
“T-their eyes… they begged to be saved.” He curled up on the ground. “I c-couldn’t help you, Hort. I-I am sorry. S-sorry…”
His sobs continued for a few minutes. I learned that he knew both of the dead personally - and for many years. Hort and Numako were their names.
