The Book of Dungeons - A weak to strong litRPG epic

Adjusting my circadian rhythm to the day-night cycle wasn’t something I expected to embrace. I used to be a night owl, but sundown became far more annoying without artificial light. Something as simple as walking around in the dark, even with a candle, proved troublesome. I shielded the flame with my palm as I walked. I couldn’t move too fast without dousing the wick or dripping hot wax on my hand. Waking up early didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

I awoke before dawn, ate alone, and waited for the library to open outside the doorway and beneath the stars. The night sky glowed typically brighter than Earth’s, so stars weren’t always visible. This morning, they appeared dimmer than usual, with Tarnen as the only visible moon. The pale glow of Phaos, the world’s sun, threatened to drown out the emptiness with daylight at any moment.

I passed the time, casting my spells and observing their effects to see if they explained how to acquire more magic. After sunrise, I waited an hour before Mr. Fergus unlocked the library door and poked his head out.

“Awake before second-hour? You’re showing plenty of pluck.”

“A rookie mistake.” I opened my clock interface to change my alarm. Next time, I would get here no sooner than daybreak.

As I had the day before, I spent my time marking grids on parchment with a silverpoint wire. Whenever Mr. Fergus came by, I asked him questions and learned basic facts about the world. Miros, the island continent, stretched a little larger than Madagascar. Archetypal creatures, such as goblins, elves, dwarves, and orcs, filled its borders. The deep elves lived up north, beneath the highest mountain in Miros called Grenspur.

I worked until the daylight waned and hunger grabbed hold of me. The result of my effort tallied six pages. Having doubled my output from the previous day, I felt in high spirits and bounded down the stairs for dinner. It discouraged me that the other players had moved on from Formal Hall to the pub, and I would eat alone. Without an income from quests, I couldn’t afford to pay for daily meals. I hoped to talk about what I’d learned and play the man-of-the-world role for a change. Instead, I finished my meal and retired to my room early.

I tried to befriend the NPC apprentices, but they rebuffed my overtures. The budding professionals suspected academics might want to rock the boat with unproven ideas. The military cadets didn’t have use for me either. Everyone gathered in cliques, each to their vocation. I didn’t feel at home with the academic apprentices since they traveled in circles of nobility and didn’t frequent common venues like Formal Hall.

All sides frowned on mixing the social order, making it impossible to wrap my modern brain around it. My cultural DNA rejected the notion of classes and royalty. As a person without a close family, tradition, tribalism, and belonging held little value, yet everyone in Miros defined the world through these lenses. I didn’t understand my place on this spectrum.

The wages of zigging were a lonely toll.

My third day passed with a similar schedule, except I produced seven sheets, bringing my total to sixteen. It made me happy to see Charitybelle in Formal Hall for dinner. She reached level 2 and excitedly spilled all the details of the group’s latest exploits.

Charitybelle sat down with a grin. “Guess what! We’re going to become full-time hunters! We’re going to give a pass to the training grounds.”

“Oh, really? Why is that?”

“It’s more exciting. The arena exercises aren’t fun. Ranking up our combat skills is slower in the wild, but we’re gaining experience.”

“Where are you going?”

“Oh, that’s another thing. We’re learning all about the countryside. We crossed the river east into the hills—did you know there are farmsteads out there?”

I shook my head, knowing nothing of the area.

“We didn’t go as far to Darton Rock—that would be a few days’ journey, but we scoped around the local terrain. There are supposed to be kobolds in the hills, but we haven’t seen any. We spend most of our time hunting armored lizards, making problems for nearby ranchers.”

“Aren’t kobolds supposed to be lizards?”

“In some games, they are. It comes from the German word for ‘goblin,’ so they can be anything. In The Book of Dungeons, they’re little rat-people. Rats have more personality than lizards, anyway. And kobolds live in the mountains by the gnolls, who sometimes engage in river piracy. I think gnolls are too high level for Fab and the gang.”

“What are the lizards like?”

“They’re called archaeodons, and they’re crazy-mean and aggroed onto us all the way from the river. I can understand why quest givers want us to chase them off. Other meanies to watch out for include muskin. They’re hooved animals, and the bulls charged us because it’s their rutting season. They have horns and will gore you.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing.” I could see how the arena couldn’t compete with monster hunting.

“Some of our combat skills don’t apply when fighting beasts.”

One of the few times Charitybelle asserted herself happened during a discussion over what to hunt. Even in digital realms, she liked animals and disapproved of killing them. She searched my face to see if I agreed with her, and I quickly did so. I’d rather fight monsters than Charitybelle.

“And fighting is fun because everyone works together. The only problem is that we waste a lot of time traveling and looking for things rated green on the threat meter.”

I’d learned about the threat meter earlier. The interface used a color-coding system on monster nameplates. Green meant a monster presented a suitable amount of danger. Yellow offered more challenge, and the spectrum went to red, indicating a certain death. The color ratings shifted as players became more powerful and monsters got easier. The deadliest monster the gang had seen rated orange, and they stayed far away from it.

“What about the loot?”

Charitybelle sighed. “It’s not very exciting. Most drops are hides, which we take to the tanner. We take the meat to the butcher. We got lots of coins and found axes and daggers in their stomachs. I think that’s where we’ve been missing things. Monsters eat other adventurers or each other, and their best items stay in their guts. I’m not even sure it’s in a digestive organ. RIP says it’s a pouch that players need to open. There are little crystals called cores that drop out of their mouths when they die.”

“Crystals?”

“Cores, they’re called. But no one knew what to do with them—except sell them to shopkeepers. All our drops so far have been whites or grays.”

“Are those rarity ranks or something?”

“It’s another color-coding system. Open up your inventory and check out your dorm key. If you focus on the color, it brings up the item ranking system. Basic items are gray. Quality items are white. Masterwork is green, Rare is yellow, epic is orange, legendary is red, and celestial is purple. ”

“And you haven’t seen a green item yet?” I asked.

“Nope. Just like the cores—only whites and grays.”

“So, where is everyone now?”

Charitybelle rolled her eyes. “Oh, they’re at the public house, but it’s not for me. It’s cool to see locals and dwarves, but everyone keeps to themselves and talks business. It gets rowdy on Marketday, supposedly, and the room sometimes breaks into singing, but we don’t know the lyrics and sometimes don’t understand the language. I want to dance, but the barkeep says dancing usually breaks out toward the end of the week. Honestly, the pub is pretty tame.”

I shook my head. “A tame pub? Miros is a miserly world so far. There are no classes, automatic stats distribution, crummy loot, and infrequent monsters.”

Charitybelle shook her head. “I don’t know if that’s entirely correct. I bet there are more monsters further east, in the continent’s center. And they probably have better loot. Tomorrow, I want to check out some maps, and I hoped you could help me with that—since you’re our resident bookworm.”

It became my turn to roll my eyes. “I wish. I checked out some books, and there isn’t much to go on. It’s all fables and children’s poems. Storybooks. These people don’t thirst for knowledge.”

Charitybelle’s echo of my earlier indictment. “Miros sure is stingy!” We both laughed. “I wanna check out the library. So maybe we could go together?”

“Definitely. It’ll be a brief tour, but I’ll show you everything I know.” It excited me to show her around, feeling similar to the time when we first met.

She smiled, and we briefly enjoyed eye contact until she blushed. “When the gang gets up, I’ll head off with them. What time do you get up?”

It became my turn to blush. “I get up about ten minutes before daybreak.”

She widened her eyes. “Really? Okay, I’ll set my interface alarm and see you at dawn.”