“So,” I said, leaning forward, “you’ve done this before?”
Bookbite gave me a look, somewhere between amused and exhausted. “Oh yeah. I’ve been around. Last core I worked for? Goblin dungeon. Real classic stuff.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What was that like?”
He rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might fall out. “Ugh. Chief Fat Ass. That was his name: literally. Big, greasy goblin with a throne made of bones and a personal fondness for… well. Let’s just say fleas and rotting human flesh piles were the highlights of that place.”
I snorted, covering my mouth. “Sounds… lovely. Like what I imagine a boy’s locker room might smell like.”
“Yeah, no,” he deadpanned. “It reeked. The pit traps were solid, though. Credit where it’s due. But you?” He waved a stubby finger around at the office walls, the twisted school vibe still shimmering faintly. “This? This is already an upgrade. No corpse stink, no maggot pit. I mean, you’ve even got chairs.”
“Glad my trauma-chic aesthetic is goblin-approved,” I muttered, drumming my fingers on the desk.
He grinned. “We’ll get you fleas if you really miss the authentic dungeon vibe.”
I gave him a hard look, but I couldn’t help laughing. “Hard pass.”
We both sat there for a moment, and the silence felt… weirdly companionable. Or, well, as companionable as you could get with a little goblin wearing a patchy coat and big round eyes.
“So… what’s next?” I asked. “Like, is there a manual, or…”
Bookbite made a face. “Pfft. Manuals. Sure, if you like reading system code for fifty years. But nah. We’ll wing it. I’ll guide you. You’ll listen. Probably ignore me half the time.”
“That’s fair,” I said.
He hopped onto a file cabinet, crossing his arms. “For real though. We’ve got a lot to set up. Mana pathways, room expansions, monster generation… and eventually, yeah, we’re gonna have visitors. Adventurers, scavengers, all kinds of pests.”
“Cool, cool,” I said, but inside my chest tightened. This was real. This was mine. I looked at him, smirking. “So, no fleas. No corpse piles. And we build a dungeon that actually works?”
Bookbite’s grin widened, sharp and eager. “Boss, I’m in.”
I leaned back in the chair, kicking my feet up on the principal’s desk, my combat boots like badass. I never had new clothes back on Earth, so life was already better. “Alright, Bookbite. You said, ‘let’s get down to business.’ What does that actually mean?”
Bookbite hopped up onto the desk, looking annoyingly at ease for a goblin in a too-big jacket. “Simple. We’ve got to build up your dungeon, Core girl. There are rules to this world, and the sooner you wrap your brain around them, the better.”
“Hit me with it.”
He clapped his little green hands together. “First off. Your core. You’re at the baby stage. A seedling, basically. That means your options are limited. But as you level up your core, you’ll unlock more: deadlier traps, stronger monsters, and better resources. It’s all about growth.”
“So...like a video game.” I snorted. “Do I kill slimes and loot treasure chests next?”
“You won’t be killing slimes, but I colour me pink and slap my ass, you know about slimes and chests. That is promising.” Then the little goblin paused as if processing everything I said. He squinted. “A...video what?”
I laughed, waving a hand. “It’s a thing where you control a character who gets stronger by finishing quests or killing monsters. Levelling up, basically.”
His ears perked. “Ah! Then yes. Pretty much that. You’ll get experience and mana when creatures die in here. That is where the majority of your growth will come from. If they die because of your dungeon, your traps, your monsters. Or if someone kills someone else, but that is rare. Hmm. But—” He jabbed a finger in the air. “You’ll also gain mana and experience from non-combat stuff. Crafters or workers who harvest resources like ore or timber from your dungeon feed energy into the system too. That’s how the crafters and non-combat types make themselves useful.”
“Huh,” I said, tapping my chin. “So it’s not just all blood and guts. Good to know.”
Bookbite gave me a sharp grin, as he flopped down on his butt and started picking his ear wax. “Oh, there’ll still be plenty of blood and guts. But yeah, you can build spaces that attract gatherers and crafters too. The more useful or appealing your dungeon becomes, the more traffic you’ll get. And the more traffic...well, the faster you grow.”
“And what’s outside the dungeon?” I asked. “What’s coming my way?”
He shrugged, looking way too casual for my taste. “Adventurers. Mercenaries. Dungeon divers. Some just want loot. Others might want to conquer you. And sometimes...other things come crawling through. Things you won’t like.”
I felt my throat tighten, but I covered it with a smirk. “Great. Can’t wait.”
Bookbite tilted his head. “Hey, you’ve got me now. And trust me, it’s a hell of a lot nicer working here than the last core I had. You know, goblin chief named Fat Ass; his whole place smelled like fleas and rotting flesh piles.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, lucky you. We’re aiming for something a little different this time.”
“Vengeance and death, I can’t wait.” His grin widened. “Yeah, I figured. Let’s make this place a real nightmare… in a good way.”
Bookbite drummed his fingers on the desk. “Oh, and one more thing. Adventurers don’t just come here to swing swords and die gloriously. They level up too. When they kill monsters or clear traps, they absorb mana and experience right from the dungeon.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Wait. They risk their lives for...XP? Why would anyone do that if dying’s on the table?”
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“That and to clean their mana pathways,” He snorted. “Besides death’s not the end, Core girl. If they die in the dungeon, they’re reborn under the Goddess of Violet’s temple.”
“Seriously?” I leaned forward. “So it’s basically free respawns?”
“Mmm, sort of.” Bookbite wobbled a hand. “Sometimes they’re reborn right away, sometimes it takes a few days or even a month if they’re really unlucky. And sure, once in a while they might lose a level, but the real sting is the gear. Every single thing they were carrying? Gone. The dungeon claims it.”
I whistled. “That’s...brutal.”
He grinned wide. “Exactly. But you’d be surprised how many of those idiots think the risk is worth the rewards. Glory, riches, power...it’s the same old story. And lucky for us, their greed keeps your core fed.”
I leaned back in the chair, processing all of it. “So it’s basically a giant meat grinder fueled by ambition.”
Bookbite’s eyes gleamed. “Now you’re getting it.”
I frowned, twirling a pen between my fingers. “Okay, but you said something earlier about adventurers needing to clean their mana. What does that even mean? And...what is mana exactly?”
Bookbite hopped over to the desk from the top of the cabinet and crossed his arms. “Mana’s the lifeblood of this world. Think of it like experience points mixed with energy. It’s what fuels growth, powers spells, and strengthens bodies. You name it. But here’s the kicker: no one knows why, but over time, mana gets...tainted, twisted inside the body, or corrupted.”
“Tainted?” I echoed, leaning in.
He nodded, eyes narrowing. He summoned a skull from his pocket and held it as if inspecting a gem. “Yeah. Corrupted energy. Some folks call here on Mors think it comes from the void. If an adventurer doesn’t clean their mana regularly, they hit a wall. No more levelling up, no more power-ups. Leave it too long? It can kill ‘em—or worse.”
“Worse?” I asked, not sure I wanted the answer.
“Voidspawned,” Bookbite said grimly. “Twisted into something...wrong.”
I shivered and sat back. “Lovely. So how does the cleaning work, exactly? I’m guessing a hot shower won’t cut it.”
He snorted. “Nah. Think of it like this: imagine your body has veins, right?”
“Sure. I passed elementary science class.” It was my time to smirk at the goblin. Was this what it was like to have friends? It felt nice to play with my little attendant. He just nodded to my comment.
“Well, wrapped around those veins are your mana pathways. They run through your whole body, centred at your heart. Then running out from there. That is why your core is placed there. When you’re low-level, the pathways are thin. A farmer who never levels up past level 10, would never need to worry about corruption. But as you gain experience, those pathways get stronger, wider; better at handling mana. But if that mana stays corrupted, it’s like...tar. Builds up, clogs the flow.”
I squinted, picturing it. “So kind of like black sludge in your arteries.”
Bookbite brightened. “Exactly! Except it’s magic sludge. And deadly.”
A weird thought hit me. “Wait. Do I have mana pathways?”
Bookbite gave me a sharp look. “Course you do. You’re a dungeon core now. Your heart is literally your core room. This body of yours is just one small part of your larger being. That’s why you can’t wall off the core completely from the outside world. If you did, your pathways would choke off. Your soul would starve, and...well, you’d die.”
I stared at him, processing. “So it’s like airflow.”
“Bingo.” He pointed a stubby finger at me. “The world’s mana flows down into your dungeon, your dungeon purifies it, filters out the void muck and then sends it back up topside. Keeps the cycle going.”
I leaned back, eyebrows raised. “That...actually reminds me of how planets filter CO2 out of the air.”
He smirked back and gave me a sharp-toothed grin. “Ha! Now that’s a good analogy. You did pass some basics back on dirt. Same idea. Keep the flow open, keep things healthy.”
“Earth, but I am sure you knew that.” I bit my lip, holding back a smile. “So do I need to, you know, clean my own pathways?”
He shook his head. “You’re the purifier. As long as you keep an open connection to the surface, you’re golden. Your whole dungeon is basically one big air filter.”
I exhaled slowly. “That’s...weirdly comforting.”
He clapped his hands. “Great! Now that we’ve covered Dungeon Biology 101, let’s get back to business.” Bookbite clapped his hands suddenly. “Alright, first thing’s first—open up your character sheet.”
I blinked. “My what?”
He stared at me like I’d just sprouted another head. “Your character sheet, obviously. Are you dense?”
I scowled and gave him a light whack on the head with the back of my hand. “Rude.”
Bookbite rubbed his scalp, grumbling but smirking. “Hey, fair. But seriously, it’s basic stuff. Just think ‘character sheet,’ and the system’ll pop it up.”
I narrowed my eyes at him but followed his instructions, focusing hard. “Character sheet.”
With a quiet ping, glowing text unfurled in front of me, crisp and organized.
Character Sheet:
- Level: 1 Dungeon
- Theme: Education Domain
- Mana: 100
- Monster Points: 0/15
- Boss Points: 0/5
- Mini-Bosses: 0/0
- Trap Points: 0/15
Current Dungeon Pattern Unlocked:
Elementary School
(Level up the core to unlock higher forms of education.)
Current Monster Patterns:
None. Use a monster creator to summon the first set of monsters. Future research is required for monsters beyond Tier E.
Rooms Unlocked: 3
(Level up to unlock patterns, more rooms, and additional floors.)
Research Points: 0/0
Resource Nodes: 0/2
I stared at the display, a weird mix of excitement and nerves twisting in my gut. “Okay... wow. That’s... a lot.”
Bookbite grinned, hopping up onto the desk again. “Told ya. And that’s just the basics. Wait until we really get started.”
I squinted at the glowing stats, my mind racing. “Hey, Bookbite… how many other dungeon cores are out there? Is this like… a game? A test? Or, I don’t know… some kind of punishment?”
Bookbite rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back, arms spread. “Pfft. If there’s a grand plan, no one gave me the memo.”
I frowned. “So, you’re telling me you don’t know?”
He sprang upright, scratching his belly, then jabbed his elbow at me with a snort. “Oh, I know some things. Like, yeah, there are other dungeon cores. Tons, probably. Some pop up, some get snuffed out. But who’s pulling the strings? Why we’re here? No clue. I just do my job and try not to die horribly.”
I let that sink in, my stomach twisting a bit. “Comforting.”
He smirked. “Hey, at least you’ve got me now. Things are already looking up.”