PREVIEW

Book 2,

Chapter 1:

The Dark-Hand Path

∆∆

“The more he progressed, the more it became clear

that being a dungeon core was the perfect foundation upon which to

build himself up as a warrior-mage.”

∆∆

Osman Spar was studying his Soul Stats, trying to figure out the fastest way possible to start building his dungeon academy.

But he could see out of the corner of his eye that his voluptuous, young dark elf thrall was about to say something incredibly lewd to him. The dungeon lord held up his hand to try and stop her: “Ah-ah,” he murmured, “not now. I need to stay focused. We’ve got lots of work to do.”

“You’re no fun,” Rania pouted, turning her attention to the little corgi dog curled up at Osman’s feet. Seeing Plex just laying there like that gave the dark elf a devious little idea and her face lit up at the prospect: “Master … ” she said, “why don’t you tell Plex about how we first met. That’s a hot story!”

The dungeon lord glanced up from his stats, narrowing his eyes at Rania. She was grinning up at him and, as usual, her fanged little grin turned him on.

And of course it didn’t help matters any that the dark elf was half-naked, cuddled up next to him under a thin, deerskin blanket that she had produced from her inventory some time last night just before they had gone to bed. The thin blanket clung to her curves and her fanged little grin made Osman think of the sloppy wet BJ she’d given him and how he had imbued her with his mana.

But, despite this rush of smutty thoughts running through his head and the rush of blood to what Rania had begun calling his “true rod of power,” Osman tried to remain focused on his Soul Stats. He needed to figure out exactly how he was going to construct the First Floor of his academy, so that it could both safeguard his mana core and entice the first crop of monster girls to come and train there.

However, upon hearing the dark elf’s suggestion, the little corgi leapt to his feet and began wagging his tail excitedly. “Yeah, chief, yeah,” Plex beamed, “tell me about that! I wanna hear about that.”

“Guys … ” Osman said, “Bock’s gonna come back. Or worse: he’s gonna tell that Crafter King guy where we are. When they come for us, if we’re not ready, we’re gonna be royally screwed.”

The three of them were deep down under the earth, in a huge cavernous room, its walls made of shattered rocks and rubble, its ceiling populated by a hellacious amount of menacing stalactites. The room was roughly circular in shape, like a fighting pit or some little gladiatorial arena, and seemed to be formed from the remains of an ancient stone temple that had been swallowed by the earth itself for gods know what reason.

The place suited Osman well enough and he was beginning to grow relatively comfortable with being there. But he had only been a dungeon core for a little over a day and already he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders — both the game world and the real world too.

Other Earth’s game engine had been acting pretty glitchy in the hours leading up to him becoming a dungeon, there was no doubt about that! However, it wasn’t until that moment, just after he had died in the game and wasn’t automatically logged out by The System like every other damn time that he had died in the game, that Osman realized something truly sinister was afoot. Instead of waking up in the real world with a splitting headache, he had been transported here — to this underground chamber — and assigned a totally new race and class …

He was a dungeon core now. Which was quite different than the human paladin that he had been playing Other Earth as before. He was part warrior and part mage plus also a lord and master.

It was a lot to wrap his head around.

He still felt quite human. But there was no denying that something in him had changed and was changing still. He was not only the ruler of this subterranean cavern, he was also … the cavern itself!

That was going to take some getting used to!

And the fact that Juan “Bock” Bockhurst, his best friend (or, well: ex-best-friend), had been the very first raider to enter his dungeon and try and kill him only confirmed the perilous nature of Osman’s current predicament. Of course he and Bock had their differences — Star Wars versus Star Trek, DC or Marvel, boobs or vadge — they would never have tried to kill each other over that kind of stuff. They were well beyond that …

… weren’t they?

Osman hated to admit it, but it was at least partially his fault that he and Bock hadn’t been on speaking terms for the better part of the last year. But still, the fact that it was his old friend who had been the first raider to relentlessly try and snuff him out — not to mention steal his mana core — really set the dungeon lord on edge. And, with each passing minute, he was getting more and more worried about all things Bockhurst, not to mention what other disturbing real-world-based curveballs The System might decide to throw at him next.

“Please, chief: just one little story … ” the corgi begged, seemingly oblivious to his master’s true concerns.

“Guys!” the dungeon lord snapped, looking sternly at Plex and then even more sternly at Rania: “I’m serious. This is serious. We need to prepare.” He nodded once, to underscore what he just said, and assumed that — from his tone — they understood the gravity of the situation. Then he started scanning through his Soul Stats again:

Name: Osman Spar

Race: Dungeon Core

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Core Type: Magical Academy

Avatar Type: Brawler

Mana: 50 / ∞ (MP)

Health: 42 / 50 (HP)

Class: Crafter

Level: 4

Rank: Novice

Alignment: Chaotic

Primary Skill: Mage Craft

(1) Soul Suck (cost to use: 0 MP)

(2) Imbue (cost to use: 5 MP)

Secondary Skill: Bludgeon Weapons

(1) Iron Rod Of Power (as Mace)

Tertiary Skill: Mana Core Cultivation

(1) Soul Binding

Innate Abilities:

(1) Night Vision

(2) Soul Scrying

Minions:

(1) Corgi w/ A Dragon Complex (“Plex”)

(2)

(3)

Thralls:

(1) Dark Elf Sorceress-Assassin (“Rania Ahmen’sur”)

(2)

(3)

Items:

Hooded Cloak (black); Tunic (black); Trousers (black)

Iron Rod Of Power (1)

Suit Of Demon Armor (magma breastplate + accessories) (1)

Ginormous War-Hammer (“Ash’agash”)

Cursed Mana Core (Dungeon Core) (1)

Earlier that morning, Osman had eaten the last of the amanita muscaria. That’s where the 50 Mana Points that were currently listed in his stats had come from. Although, secretly, the dungeon lord had been hoping to get a hell of a lot more than that.

The amanita muscaria were the little blood-red mushrooms that grew in a small patch along the south wall of his cavernous Starter Room. They were speckled with tiny white crystals of some sort and, up until now, had been the main source of Osman’s progression as a dungeon core. However, upon waking from a particularly horrifying dream that he had been having about consuming or being consumed, he decided to eat the last one just to be on the safe side.

The dungeon lord didn’t want his rampant Mana Hunger to suddenly seize control of him and cause him to devour the souls of his two new friends. That would be totally awful! So he had popped the last remaining red cap into his mouth while Rania and Plex still slept, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying not to gag as he chewed the mushroom up and swallowed it down.

The very first time that he had eaten one of those red caps, Osman had also gained 50 MP. He had been so thrilled by that result at the time that he barely even registered the mushroom’s foul taste. But this time around he had been expecting to get even more mana, at least double or triple the amount of MP that he had gotten when he had been a mere Level 1.

However, when that didn’t happen, the potent fungus’ putrid flavor was even more apparent, like sweaty gym socks or sour milk.

Gagh!

Osman almost threw up a little in his mouth just thinking about it.

But okay, he tried to look on the bright side. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing, then, that he seemed to have reached the upper limit of what the red caps could offer him in terms of raw Mana Points. He would just need to find a better way, that’s all …

… a way that was more palatable, and also scalable …

The dungeon lord would definitely need a lot more than 50 measly Mana Points if he wanted to build the kind of maze-like {Magical Academy} that he had in mind, with tons of cool chambers and traps and gleaming loot drops that would both entice potential trainees as well as repel would-be raiders.

So he kept scanning his Soul Stats, seeking some edge or previously-unrealized advantage that might help him get started with his construction plans in a much quicker — and much more tasty — way than harvesting and eating those vomitous red caps. Some sort of … short cut!

Just as he thought that, he came upon the listing for the {Ginormous War-Hammer}, which he had acquired after defeating that fire-demon revenant that Bock had summoned. Maybe he could use this demonic hammer to start hacking a tunnel through one of the rocky walls?

That would be super-cool!

Especially if he could ignite the hammer’s infernal flame and use the ungodly heat of that pale fire to melt and re-shape the very rock itself as he burrowed his way through it. If he could do that, the dungeon lord would have a couple of nice, long tunnels in no time.

Ideally, he would construct two of these passageways to begin with, both equal in appearance and equally enticing: forking paths that would force monster girl trainees to make a hard choice right out of the gate, as they exited his Starter Room.

Although, the problem with that was this: equipping the infernal hammer right now would almost certainly corrupt his body and soul beyond repair. And it was the same with the {Suit Of Demon Armor} as well.

Osman needed to establish a rapport with these items first.

But, to do that, he would need to expend a significant amount of mana. Maybe 200 to 300 MP per item, based on what he remembered reading in one of Simulah Corp.’s old “Lore Of Legends” monster manuals.

Once he established this stable rapport — equalizing his body and soul in a kind of yin-yang balance with the demonic natures of the items — then the hammer and armor would be added to his skill trees and he could use them safely.

Skipping that step would put the dungeon lord and his newfound friends at great risk. If the demonic corruption took hold of him fully, there’s no telling what he would do or what kind of dark, rampaging juggernaut he’d become. It would be like opening Pandora’s Box: brutal, unpredictable — upending chaos, for sure! And a surefire way to get lured down The Dark-Hand Path.

So, for now, the hammer was out as a building tool.

Which sucked!

Osman didn’t like having such limits. Especially since he already had these glorious items in his possession and had acquired them fair and square.

But he didn’t want to endanger Rania, nor Plex.

The corgi smiled up at him then, as if the dog knew exactly what his master was currently thinking.

And maybe he did.

Maybe he did …

The dungeon lord winked down at the dog, to reassure him that he had no intention of putting him in danger. But then he flashed again on that horrifying dream that he had had last night. He couldn’t quite remember the exact contents of it … only vague snippets of images and impressions. Something black as pitch skittering across the floor. A tangle of vines trying to tangle themselves around his body …

Or were they tentacles?

Long, black tentacles …

… and a trio of shrieking voices!

Osman furrowed his brow.

His father used to say that dreams were portents of things to come, or wishes as yet unfulfilled. And there was something to that. There must be something to that, otherwise his father wouldn’t have wasted his breath on saying it. He had been a man of few words and many good deeds and Osman missed him very much.

Later, when the dungeon lord had more time to spare, he’d have to see if Rania or Plex could help him recall his dream. Maybe one of them knew a way how. Then he’d be able to test his father’s wisdom and do the man’s memory some justice.

>> Author’s Note: if you want to read exactly what happened in Osman’s dream right now, you can download the e-book of “Mimics” for free. The dream is in there, among other things: https://bit.ly/36tNuAP

But, for now, he started perusing his Soul Stats again. There had to be another — safer — way to start building his First Floor. He just needed to figure out what it was.

A faint scrabbling sound suddenly caused Osman to cock his head.

What in the hell was that?!

He stared up at the man-sized hole that was halfway up the eastern wall of his Starter Room and heard that scrabbling sound again, coming from inside the hole. This hole was the only way in and out of the dungeon and someone — or something — was just about to crawl through it.

“Damn it!” the dungeon lord hissed. “They’re already here.”

The dark elf immediately leapt to her feet, equipping her Staff Of Night. As she did so, the deerskin blanket that she had been snuggling under fell away revealing her lithe, athletic body. She was not wholly nude, but almost, wearing only a skimpy cotton loin-cloth between her legs and a miniscule chainmail bralet over her huge, perky breasts. The bralet was so tiny that it almost didn’t even cover her pink nipples, which stiffened at the prospect of doing battle.

Osman stared sidewise at her, suddenly not so unhappy about this unexpected home invasion. Rania was a gorgeous sight to behold, and when the dungeon lord saw her like that — fierce and alert, a feral savage craving combat and the much-needed mana boost that a good skirmish was sure to bring — he knew that they would most likely pulverize whoever or whatever it was that was coming their way.

Of course, then he looked down at Plex.

The corgi was a whole other story. The dungeon lord wished that he had had a chance to cultivate the dog’s Soul Stats a little or level him up in some way, to make him a more effective fighting force or — at least — to stabilize his schizoid nature. But okay, he’d just have to work with what he had at hand.

“Banish me back inside yourself, chief,” the corgi whispered. “I only have 1 Mana Point left. Banish me and then summon me up again. That way, I’ll have all my MP back.”

Shit! Osman had forgotten about that. Plex was still gravely injured from the {Dark Bolt} spell that Bock had zapped him with. The dungeon lord gritted his teeth upon recalling it. But then he heard that scrabbling sound again: closer now, and louder, more … insistent!

“Do it now, chief!” the dog said and — upon hearing that — Osman closed his eyes, opening his mind’s eye and willing himself to summon the corgi back into his mana core. A word of power in The Forked Tongue formed on his lips and he uttered it forwards, and backwards, and forwards again.

Plex made a sour face, muttering grumpily: “I really HATE this part!” before vanishing in a puff of white smoke accompanied by that rather offensive sound effect of crumpling up and throwing away digital trash, just like on an old Apple computer.

Osman almost laughed. The System really did have an odd sense of humor!

But okay, the corgi would be back soon enough.

“What’s the plan?” Rania whispered to him.

The dungeon lord leaned in close to her pointy little ear: “Bait and switch,” he said. “Let’s show whoever’s comin’ what we’re really made of.”