FINAL CORE : [A holy dungeon-core litRPG] - Chapter 12

~Recollection of renowned lunatic Dancig Vilvariol, who claims to have met a talking lizard during a nightly outing into the forest.

Isaiah stares through the vision of the statues on floor one, watching the latest incursion.

A group of goblins has come once again. Red, having found a larger lair in the forest, between here and the human-city, has drawn in a number of them towards the tower. These seem as ill-prepared as the last bunch, but are certainly more significant in their amount. A full twenty-three of them had charged down the road, making their assault. Rudely, they had trashed a large part of the outside areas, which really was very inconsiderate of them.

Goblins seem like ill-mannered creatures.

Isaiah hopes that the humans aren’t as bad. It is a distraction for the builders if they have to constantly repair the outdoor areas every time that someone intrudes on the territory.

Of the twenty-three, twenty made it past the wisps and only eighteen made it inside, two having been lured away to the river by the song of the melusine.

Floor one, they incur significant casualties, but seem to manage fairly well.

— Except for the casters of their bunch. The entities, who primarily use dark magic as their weapon of choice, have a very bad time because of the ambient mist present on floors one and two.

Before the fight is even halfway through, the three sorcerers have to retreat, running back out of the tower, because of the health they’re losing just from being inside of the room.

Isaiah watches as those three exit and make their way to the hot-springs, carefully snooping around the area.

The surviving goblins take stock of the situation after the fight and look around the room. Twenty-three made their way to the tower and already, with just floor one having been cleared, only twelve remain to fight.

One of them makes their way to the staircase leading up, as the red fog disappears and opens the way for them to progress.

A hand grabs his shoulder and stops him. He turns around.

“No. We leave,” says the goblin who stopped him from progressing.

“Leave?” asks the bigger goblin. “We continue. Powerful fight means many treasures.”

The other one shakes its head, holding on to him. “Powerful fight means many dead,” it snarls, pointing at the room around them. It’s totally destroyed from the chaos. Blood drips down the fractured, broken stone gargoyles. Goblin bones, picked clean by acidic slime, float around in the ankle-high wading pool. “We leave. Dangerous. Sky-light doesn’t want us here. This was a mistake.”

A pair of goblins hobble by, wading through the water. One of them is slung over the other’s shoulder as they also make their way to the door outside.

“We have nothing to show for many dead,” says the larger one.

The other one lets go, shaking its head. “We have many still alive. Let us accept this reward,” it says and leaves.

Isaiah watches as the large goblin stands there for a time and then walks back to the exit with the rest of its group. Apparently, they are giving up on climbing the tower. Isaiah is a little let down, honestly. Nobody has even ever gotten to floor two yet. Maybe the tower really is stronger than a normal dungeon?

These creatures were hardly a challenge. It was a slaughter.

…Maybe because the tower is getting bigger?

That ability it had gotten, back when it awoke as Isaiah for the first time, had said that the higher it rises, the stronger it will become. But if it itself is the dungeon-core, then doesn’t that mean that the higher the tower grows, the stronger the entire dungeon, including floor one, will become?

If so, that’s a brutal piece of information.

Oh well, it’s not a total loss. Isaiah returns to its normal vision.

It then takes the shrine skill that it had wanted to select next.

“Perfect,” it says to itself. This fits in with their plan very nicely. The uthra can start work on a shrine or a chapel now, on the road outside of the tower. On floor three, there’s going to be a prayer hall. If what Red had told it is true, then by having people pray at their altars and statues, they can get a free boost in power. Plus it will continue to help polish their image.

It hasn’t come into play yet, but Isaiah wants it to be perfect when it inevitably happens. The humans absolutely can not perceive the tower as a monstrous threat.

It remembers humans. It remembers ‘adventurers’, skilled people who make their living by plundering dungeons. If these start showing up in numbers, it will be a problem. Even worse, however, is if more serious characters show up; destruction teams, sent not to loot the tower, but to destroy it entirely.

This must be prevented.

“Crystal. Green,” says Isaiah, looking off of its tree.

“Yes?” asks Green, as the two of them fly in.

“Begin the work on the shrine,” orders Isaiah. “Make it look…” It thinks for a moment. “— Make it look like what humans would like.”

Green lifts a finger. “What about what elves like?” it asks.

Isaiah shrugs.

“And what about orcs?” asks Crystal.

“— And dwarves?”

Isaiah lifts a talon, rolling its eyes as it points away. “Go. Work. Make it good.”

The two of them laugh and fly off.

Isaiah sighs and changes its perception to the hot-spring.

It seems that the surviving goblins have collected themselves there and are quietly recovering, bandaging their wounds and washing themselves in the hot water.

Very well. This is what it is for, after all.

Isaiah opens its eyes again, hearing something muttering above its head.

It looks up at the dark-elf, who finally seems to be waking up.

Flying up into the air, it hovers before her.

“Red.”

“What?” asks Red, popping up from the side. “Oh.” It hovers over to the dark-elf, grabbing her and lowering her down to the base of the very-big-tree.

“Thank you,” says Isaiah, waving to it. “Please, bring more food,” it asks. Red flies off. The red-uthra had been given the task of sustaining the dark-elf while she slept. It had done this by making a mash out of berries and essentially force feeding her drooling body. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked.

Isaiah crooks its head, landing on the highest floor of the tower, feeling it rumble beneath its feet, as they move up yet another level.

Its minions are hard at work.

It needs to work hard too, so that it can have more minions.

This is where these creatures, the humans, the elves, the dark-elves, like her, will be very useful.

Isaiah squats down and waits.

Rorate’s head spins, her shaking body returning to its senses.

How long was she out for this time?

She isn’t sure. Honestly, she’s a little surprised to even be awake again, let alone to feel so sharp-minded all of a sudden. Is the effect of the brew wearing off?

She doesn’t feel as weak as before, but she’s still desperately hungry. What is this?

The dark-elf rubs her face, trying to remember what happened the last time she was awake. Wasn’t there something about a goblin or a mush-mush or som-

Rorate opens her eyes, remembering.

She stares at the entity sitting not far before herself. Her heart jumps.

It is a strange, pale thing. Its gestalt is something like a person’s, but it isn’t. The skin, strangely soft and smooth looking like a frog’s, is as unnaturally white as cleanly hewn marble. Its face is thin and featureless, save for a pair of large golden eyes and a wide slit for a lipless mouth.

It quickly crooks its head, tilting it like a bird would, when watching something closely.

Two, large wings, a shade of dark, lavender-gray, adorn its back. Despite being folded in, they look like the gaunt entity should stumble over because of the massive span of them, even when closed like this.

She opens her mouth, not really sure if she’s trying to scream or talk or even just breathe. Her mouth just kind of opens and her air gets stuck in her throat, not moving in either direction.

Rorate chokes and falls back, her back pressing against a tree.

In panic, she looks around herself, noticing how high up she is, before her eyes fall back onto the creature, which has still yet to move.

The two of them stare at each other for a moment, as the memory of her half-hallucinated vision fully returns to the forefront of her mind. The vision of a divine entity, pulling her from the storm, pulling her from the drink.

It’s words return to her mind as well.

“…Isaiah…” whispers the dark-elf, her head spinning violently.

Isaiah nods and gestures to itself in a mannerism it recalls using, back when it was a human once. “I am Isaiah,” it says, introducing itself to her once again.

Rorate shakes, the bottle violently splashing around in her hand as she clenches it tightly, still pressing her back against the very big tree.

“Why?” she asks. Is this something sent by the gods? This isn’t a demon or a monster or anything that she’s ever heard of or read about. This is something different, something…

The sun crests in the distant east, silhouetting the body of the angelic creature and casting two long shadows out over the span of the overgrowing platform, high in the air. “Why didn’t you let me die?” she asks. “I just wanted to die!” shouts Rorate at the creature, but also at the world and at any of the gods who might be listening.

Isaiah tilts its head the other way and then looks away out over the landscape, awash in a ruby light.

A wind pushes over the tower and over the forest, shaking the many boughs of the many trees and rustling their full, blossoming crowns in gentle waves, presenting them to their gazes, as if they were the cresting surface of the ocean. The blossoms of many blooming flowers float through the breeze, capturing the warm rays cast by the sunset.

“Then you would have missed the spring,” says Isaiah. “It will be good this year.”

Her eyes open wide. Isaiah turns back to look at her, as several lights of many heavenly colors fly its way. The vividly painted scene before her eyes acts as further evidence of it being a creature of radiant divinity.

The smell of food, real food, fills the air, intermingling with the floral, spring perfume.

"Aaah, dungeons. Me? I love me a dungeon, tell you what. I grew up in a dungeon, you know, guy? Honestly, I don't really remember much of it. It's all kind of like a fever-dream at this point. Ah. Childhood. I stabbed my eye out and gave it to my sister. She tried to eat me, you know? It was a whole thing. - Anyways, I'm rambling. What you have to understand is that dungeons, like people, are just... different. Dungeon 'A' is as different to Dungeon 'B', just as Elf 'A' is different to Human 'B'. Personalities, preferences, things they like and don't like. Everyone is unique and dungeons, being the big things that they are, are extreme examples of it. A person's uniqueness can only be seen on their limited exterior, until you get to know them. That means, unless you skin them, you're only ever going to see a little piece of who they are. But don't skin your friends, guy, okay? It's not a very neighborly thing to do, tell you what. Anyways, what was I saying? Oh yeah, dungeons. Dungeons, being big places, have lots of room to really show you who they are and you better be watching, friend. You better be listening. Because the dungeon is. It's watching you. It's listening to you. Behind every corner are more eyes than you can count on a good day. Don't even get me started on the ears! Take it from me, friend. Although, maybe don't. I'm just a little, old lizard, after all. Haha!" ~Recollection of renowned lunatic Dancig Vilvariol, who claims to have met a talking lizard during a nightly outing into the forest. - Territory Breached! - Intruders: 20 Average Level: 07 Difficulty: Extremely Deadly Isaiah stares through the vision of the statues on floor one, watching the latest incursion. A group of goblins has come once again. Red, having found a larger lair in the forest, between here and the human-city, has drawn in a number of them towards the tower. These seem as ill-prepared as the last bunch, but are certainly more significant in their amount. A full twenty-three of them had charged down the road, making their assault. Rudely, they had trashed a large part of the outside areas, which really was very inconsiderate of them. Goblins seem like ill-mannered creatures. Isaiah hopes that the humans aren't as bad. It is a distraction for the builders if they have to constantly repair the outdoor areas every time that someone intrudes on the territory. Of the twenty-three, twenty made it past the wisps and only eighteen made it inside, two having been lured away to the river by the song of the melusine. Floor one, they incur significant casualties, but seem to manage fairly well. Except for the casters of their bunch. The entities, who primarily use dark magic as their weapon of choice, have a very bad time because of the ambient mist present on floors one and two. Before the fight is even halfway through, the three sorcerers have to retreat, running back out of the tower, because of the health they're losing just from being inside of the room. Isaiah watches as those three exit and make their way to the hot-springs, carefully snooping around the area. Floor one - Intruders Remaining: 12 FLOOR ONE - CLEARED The surviving goblins take stock of the situation after the fight and look around the room. Twenty-three made their way to the tower and already, with just floor one having been cleared, only twelve remain to fight. One of them makes their way to the staircase leading up, as the red fog disappears and opens the way for them to progress. A hand grabs his shoulder and stops him. He turns around. No. We leave, says the goblin who stopped him from progressing. Leave? asks the bigger goblin. We continue. Powerful fight means many treasures. The other one shakes its head, holding on to him. Powerful fight means many dead, it snarls, pointing at the room around them. It's totally destroyed from the chaos. Blood drips down the fractured, broken stone gargoyles. Goblin bones, picked clean by acidic slime, float around in the ankle-high wading pool. We leave. Dangerous. Sky-light doesn't want us here. This was a mistake. A pair of goblins hobble by, wading through the water. One of them is slung over the other's shoulder as they also make their way to the door outside. We have nothing to show for many dead, says the larger one. The other one lets go, shaking its head. We have many still alive. Let us accept this reward, it says and leaves. Isaiah watches as the large goblin stands there for a time and then walks back to the exit with the rest of its group. Apparently, they are giving up on climbing the tower. Isaiah is a little let down, honestly. Nobody has even ever gotten to floor two yet. Maybe the tower really is stronger than a normal dungeon? These creatures were hardly a challenge. It was a slaughter. Maybe because the tower is getting bigger? That ability it had gotten, back when it awoke as Isaiah for the first time, had said that the higher it rises, the stronger it will become. But if it itself is the dungeon-core, then doesn't that mean that the higher the tower grows, the stronger the entire dungeon, including floor one, will become? If so, that's a brutal piece of information. - Dungeon Breached Concluded! - Killed Intruders: 09 Average Level: 07 Fled Intruders: 15 Killed Defenders: 07 Difficulty: Extremely Deadly ~ Isaiah ~ +54 EXPERIENCE POINTS. EXP: 50/50 EXP: 33/75 Level Up! ~ Isaiah ~ You are now a level {4} dungeon-core! Level: 4 Experience: 33/75 Attribute: Holy Soul-Points: 19/19 Presence: 1.20054 km Obols: 000 Oh well, it's not a total loss. Isaiah returns to its normal vision. It then takes the shrine skill that it had wanted to select next. ~ Isaiah ~ Place of worship : As a holy site, the tower is of great spiritual significance to all who are of the faith. Allows creation of a shrine, where monsters and people may leave their prayers and sacrificial offerings. All received prayers give EXP. All received items are put into the treasury. In return, they will receive a random Minor Blessing for the duration of {24} hours. Perfect, it says to itself. This fits in with their plan very nicely. The uthra can start work on a shrine or a chapel now, on the road outside of the tower. On floor three, there's going to be a prayer hall. If what Red had told it is true, then by having people pray at their altars and statues, they can get a free boost in power. Plus it will continue to help polish their image. It hasn't come into play yet, but Isaiah wants it to be perfect when it inevitably happens. The humans absolutely can not perceive the tower as a monstrous threat. It remembers humans. It remembers adventurers', skilled people who make their living by plundering dungeons. If these start showing up in numbers, it will be a problem. Even worse, however, is if more serious characters show up; destruction teams, sent not to loot the tower, but to destroy it entirely. This must be prevented. Crystal. Green, says Isaiah, looking off of its tree. Yes? asks Green, as the two of them fly in. Begin the work on the shrine, orders Isaiah. Make it look It thinks for a moment. Make it look like what humans would like. Green lifts a finger. What about what elves like? it asks. Isaiah shrugs. And what about orcs? asks Crystal. And dwarves? Isaiah lifts a talon, rolling its eyes as it points away. Go. Work. Make it good. The two of them laugh and fly off. Isaiah sighs and changes its perception to the hot-spring. It seems that the surviving goblins have collected themselves there and are quietly recovering, bandaging their wounds and washing themselves in the hot water. Very well. This is what it is for, after all. Isaiah opens its eyes again, hearing something muttering above its head. It looks up at the dark-elf, who finally seems to be waking up. Flying up into the air, it hovers before her. Red. What? asks Red, popping up from the side. Oh. It hovers over to the dark-elf, grabbing her and lowering her down to the base of the very-big-tree. Thank you, says Isaiah, waving to it. Please, bring more food, it asks. Red flies off. The red-uthra had been given the task of sustaining the dark-elf while she slept. It had done this by making a mash out of berries and essentially force feeding her drooling body. It wasn't pretty, but it worked. Isaiah crooks its head, landing on the highest floor of the tower, feeling it rumble beneath its feet, as they move up yet another level. New Area ~ Dungeon ~ Floor {5} The fifth floor of the tower dungeon. It is currently empty Challenge Room: Currently, no challenge has been established. Monster-Point prices per monster F-Rank: 01 D-Rank: 04 C-Rank: 08 B-Rank: 16 A-Rank: 32 S-Rank: 64 SSS-Rank: 128 The next boss arena will be available in {5} floors. ~ Dungeon ~ Restricted sub-rooms: Kitchen {LEVEL 2} Food storage {LEVEL 1} Tunnels {LEVEL 1} Outside areas: Graveyard {LEVEL 1} Hot-springs {LEVEL 1} Quarry {LEVEL 1} Current Floors: The wading pool 04 The weeping bridge 06 The prayer hall 08* {Empty} {Empty} Roost atop the very big tree Estimated difficulty: Easy Estimated intruder level: 07 Estimated defender level: 02 Monster count: 20 Bosses: 01 Traps: 00 Chests: 03 Dungeon territory: 1.20054 km Rank: D- Its minions are hard at work. It needs to work hard too, so that it can have more minions. This is where these creatures, the humans, the elves, the dark-elves, like her, will be very useful. Isaiah squats down and waits. ~ Rorate ~ Rorate's head spins, her shaking body returning to its senses. How long was she out for this time? She isn't sure. Honestly, she's a little surprised to even be awake again, let alone to feel so sharp-minded all of a sudden. Is the effect of the brew wearing off? She doesn't feel as weak as before, but she's still desperately hungry. What is this? The dark-elf rubs her face, trying to remember what happened the last time she was awake. Wasn't there something about a goblin or a mush-mush or som- Rorate opens her eyes, remembering. She stares at the entity sitting not far before herself. Her heart jumps. It is a strange, pale thing. Its gestalt is something like a person's, but it isn't. The skin, strangely soft and smooth looking like a frog's, is as unnaturally white as cleanly hewn marble. Its face is thin and featureless, save for a pair of large golden eyes and a wide slit for a lipless mouth. It quickly crooks its head, tilting it like a bird would, when watching something closely. Two, large wings, a shade of dark, lavender-gray, adorn its back. Despite being folded in, they look like the gaunt entity should stumble over because of the massive span of them, even when closed like this. She opens her mouth, not really sure if she's trying to scream or talk or even just breathe. Her mouth just kind of opens and her air gets stuck in her throat, not moving in either direction. Rorate chokes and falls back, her back pressing against a tree. In panic, she looks around herself, noticing how high up she is, before her eyes fall back onto the creature, which has still yet to move. The two of them stare at each other for a moment, as the memory of her half-hallucinated vision fully returns to the forefront of her mind. The vision of a divine entity, pulling her from the storm, pulling her from the drink. It's words return to her mind as well. Isaiah whispers the dark-elf, her head spinning violently. Isaiah nods and gestures to itself in a mannerism it recalls using, back when it was a human once. I am Isaiah, it says, introducing itself to her once again. Rorate shakes, the bottle violently splashing around in her hand as she clenches it tightly, still pressing her back against the very big tree. Why? she asks. Is this something sent by the gods? This isn't a demon or a monster or anything that she's ever heard of or read about. This is something different, something The sun crests in the distant east, silhouetting the body of the angelic creature and casting two long shadows out over the span of the overgrowing platform, high in the air. Why didn't you let me die? she asks. I just wanted to die! shouts Rorate at the creature, but also at the world and at any of the gods who might be listening. Isaiah tilts its head the other way and then looks away out over the landscape, awash in a ruby light. A wind pushes over the tower and over the forest, shaking the many boughs of the many trees and rustling their full, blossoming crowns in gentle waves, presenting them to their gazes, as if they were the cresting surface of the ocean. The blossoms of many blooming flowers float through the breeze, capturing the warm rays cast by the sunset. Then you would have missed the spring, says Isaiah. It will be good this year. Her eyes open wide. Isaiah turns back to look at her, as several lights of many heavenly colors fly its way. The vividly painted scene before her eyes acts as further evidence of it being a creature of radiant divinity. The smell of food, real food, fills the air, intermingling with the floral, spring perfume.