Deathforged Dungeon [Dungeon Core litRPG] Book 1

The enemy forces were marching along the path of ashes created by the beast's barrage. They marched with their shields up, spears out, feet sounding like rumbling thunder that grew louder while making their way closer. The ground compacted into a path from the relentless pounding of feet, creating an easier path for more forces to follow behind. Then there were the siege cannons that were pulled behind the main forces.

Frizzy, for her part, used her personal Hovering Eye that she talked Jack into giving her to watch the enemy's approach. She and ten others who stood with her, both gremlin and zur'keth together, stood in armor that each one had made. Her people, the gremlins, all wore steam-powered heavy armor outfitted with gear and equipment for a fight.

The zur'keth wore their own forms of biological armor, heavy segmented chitin plates connected with sinew and muscle tissue. They carried curved chitin blades that were reminiscent of scimitars with serrated points along their edges. Whips made of tightly braided sinews they grew, with razor-sharp quills running down the last length. Canisters with poisons and acidic brews sat along their holsters.

While each member of the group had armor completely different from one another in style and materials, they all had two things in common. They were all styled to be dark green with shades of black, and they were all personally enchanted by Frizzy herself.

Each one of them was Frizzy's disciple or partner crafter. They had all volunteered to come with her. Despite her discouragement, they had all decided to come anyway. Each one knew that Jack or the four sentinels would approve of them joining the fight.

"Better to ask forgiveness than it is for permission," Frizzy muttered from within her helmet.

"What was that, teacher?" one of her disciples asked.

"Nothing," Frizzy answered back, pulling a canister belt. "Remember, we are not here to fight directly. Traps, sabotage, poison, hamper and remain unseen. Set up the canisters where we can. We're not here for a fair fight, only to blind our enemies and give our own forces the edge to finish them. Only fight if you have no choice," Frizzy instructed for the third time.

Everyone nodded their understanding. There were no other words. All that was left was to get to work. They split into teams of two while Frizzy went off on her own. Each moved in different directions with their canisters in hand while Frizzy had her own strapped to her back, each preparing for any possible flanking attacks. They had to be careful with the canisters while setting them up or risk them going off.

Frizzy took no small amount of pride in her creation. The contents of the canisters were a creation between herself and Shol'theran. It would not affect the undead or constructs, but everything else was in for a bad time. Even with their helmets sealed, there was no guarantee that the mist inside the canister wouldn't get in. A nasty little concoction that she and Shol'theran named Blistermist, and she couldn't wait to see it in action.

They used the forests to their advantage to sneak in close, setting up ambush points along the new scorched lands that the invaders were using, planting the pressurized canisters just out of sight with a thin tripwire across the invader's path. The last two canisters were planted a few hundred feet further down the scorched earth by Frizzy herself. She took the canisters and told the group to fall back to the four sentinels, to tell them what they had done so they could take it into consideration for the fight to come.

She had finished planting the first canister and had the trigger mechanism set before she moved on with the last. She moved a hundred feet from the last to maximize coverage when she heard the crackle of charred earth. She turned in time to see an orc scout had found her.

The orc stood maybe six and a half feet tall. Her armor was leather, a crossbow in hand. She was a younger warrior, but there was none of the innocence in her eyes, only anger, hate and a desire to do violence. The crossbow was aimed right at Frizzy's chest, the orc's finger resting on the trigger.

"What are you doing?" the orc demanded, pointing her weapon threateningly at Frizzy.

"Working," Frizzy answered, turning more to face the orc. "Now I'm dealing with you."

"I have the weapon, pipsqueak! I know you made more traps. You're coming with me to point them out," the orc barked, taking a step closer.

Frizzy felt herself shake inside her armor, remembering all the times the larger races had done to her what this orc woman was doing now. Demanding something, threatening her with violence if she didn't give them what they wanted, then still getting a beating for trying to stand up for herself. Too small, too weak to fight back. No Aegisthal or any of the other sentinels to protect her. But now she was different. She had trained, she had weapons and armor, all courtesy of her teacher. She was no longer that one-armed, half-starved gremlin Jack had found.

Steeling her will and remembering who she was now, she stopped the shaking to face her opponent.

"No," Frizzy said, trying to imitate Jack's mildly annoyed tone he sometimes had when interrupted in the middle of something.

"You will, or by the dark gods I'll show you suff—" the orc started to say, only to be interrupted when Frizzy threw a thin glass of white powder at the orc's chest while twisting to the side.

The glass vial shattered, making the powder become airborne. The orc was startled at first, causing her to squeeze the trigger, and the bolt shot out. The broadhead tip glanced off her chest plate. She seemed unaffected by the thin cloud of powder that hung in the air around her. Getting over her initial surprise, she grinned threateningly with bared tusks aimed at Frizzy. That was until the Blistermist kicked in.

The orc started by rubbing her eyes, her nose beginning to run. Then her eyes started to turn red and water while she tried to clear her throat, which turned into a hard cough. She wheezed, groaning in pain, dropping her crossbow to use both hands to desperately rub her eyes.

"What is this evil?" the orc woman shrieked, falling to her knees while trying to rub her eyes for relief but only making it worse.

Frizzy watched on, waiting for the remaining Blistermist to settle on the ground before drawing her dagger. Under her helmet, Frizzy had a satisfied grin. The Blistermist worked. It would not kill anyone, but it would give their enemy a serious handicap.

Frizzy didn't bother to answer the orc woman. There was no point. She had already wasted enough time and needed to get the last canister set so the invaders could share the same fate. Besides, dead people told no tales.

Frizzy drove her dagger into the base of the hunched-over orc woman's skull, piercing through easily thanks to the enhanced strength of her armor.

"Time worked better than I thought it would. When this is over, we have to make a lot more of it," Frizzy thought aloud while cleaning her weapon, her mind already racing with ideas on how to implement the Blistermist.

Frizzy set the last canister and the trigger mechanism, only satisfied once she couldn't see the tripwire anymore did she make her way back.

***

Aegisthal stood in front of his forces. His form was mostly repaired now courtesy of Halyndra. He had lost his shield and didn't have a spare on Ironhorn's saddle. Instead, he reequipped himself with a heavy claymore that now rested across his back and a broad-edged double headed axe that hung from his hip. Omnus, Eorlas, and Halyndra all stood behind him, each one of them ready for the next fight to come. Five hundred mobs were also buried under what was being called the ash lands. The rest were on standby, waiting to receive his orders.

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Ghouls, gorebound hounds, tin constructs, copper spiders, zombies, bronze apes, amalgamations, golems, and land squids were all poised and ready for the fight.

Initially, he was unhappy with Frizzy getting involved. Had she been injured, there was more than a fair chance that Jack would cause all manner of mayhem. However, there was no question that Frizzy had given a serious advantage to counter the sheer numbers of the enemy.

Now all that was left to do was to wait. Let them get in close, which was why he had some of the forces stand out in the open to further draw the enemy out.

It did not take long. The first of the invader's forces emerged into the ash land. They marched in organized regiments, shoulder to shoulder with their weapons raised and ready. First it was dozens, then hundreds, followed by thousands. They all marched right towards Aegisthal's group, who stood in waiting. Unable to be intimidated since they were undead or machine, they only waited for the enemy to get closer.

When the enemy reached two hundred yards away, Aegisthal had his own forces start to march forward to meet them. The skeletons and zombies who carried crossbows fired wildly into the air, raining dozens of bolts down on them. Some harmlessly missed the group while others bounced off of raised shields. Only a measly few managed to slip through to hit anyone. It wasn't much, but enough to anger them enough to keep going.

The two forces continued to approach one another, Aegisthal keeping his forces in line and at a steady pace. The invaders, though, found themselves moving faster as they drew closer, their focus now entirely on their target with little regard for what stood between them and the undead still firing stray bolts at them, encouraged to move further and faster at seeing how small their numbers were.

Unaware of the canisters they were activating in their charge, the mist mixed with the ash that was kicked up in the air to further hide it as it wafted after the crowd.

He watched when the first people started to fall victim to the mists, losing their momentum, hunching over to cough, wheeze, and rub their eyes. Then more followed, many of them falling and tripping in their blinded state, yelling and screaming from the pain they felt that just wouldn't relent. Yet Aegisthal and his forces continued on into the cloud of dust, ash, and mist. Neither he, the undead, nor the constructs felt any discomfort from the mist.

With a gesture of his hand, he signaled for all the forces to make their attack, as more and more of the enemy fell prey to the mist.

Undead burst out from the ground along with land squids, flanking them from the sides and the front. Yells and screams could be heard out of sight. Some could be seen starting to recover and resist the mist enough to ignore the pain and try to fight. Many of them focused toward Aegisthal and ran at him to try and kill him.

Drawing his axe with one hand, Aegisthal started his grisly work while the golems swung their heavy metal clubs.

With his axe, he cleaved through the first enemy with ease, twisting to the side while using his axe hand to punch an attacking orc, crushing their head from the force of the blow. A minotaur tried to charge him with a large cleaver but was struck with a devastating overhead punch by Aegisthal that drove the warrior into the ground. He swung his axe as a follow-up, bisecting a goblin with an upward swing while his free hand caught a hobgoblin. Using the freshly caught meat shield to stop a sword strike before being thrown at the attacker, both of whom were crushed by the merciless swing of a golem's club. Each move, Aegisthal took at least one life with each attack, his axe cleaving through people with ruthless efficacy. Punching, stomping, blocking, and cleaving, each one flowed into the next as scores of the invaders died before his progress.

He drove the spikes of his shoulder into a minotaur as his axe chopped down on an orc through the shoulder to the middle line of the body. He shoved the minotaur off to catch a harpy that had tried to dive bomb him when he freed his axe. The harpy struck at his head with a taloned foot while grasping at his forearm that was clutching her throat. He turned to face the harpy, who desperately clawed at his armored arm. Fear and anger painted all over her face when an orc tried to attack while his head was turned.

Aegisthal raised a foot and kicked the orc in the chest while he trapped the harpy in his hand, knocking the orc clean off its feet and onto its back with Aegisthal's foot planted firmly in place. Giving him a free moment to crush the harpy's head with a headbutt before dropping the lifeless corpse, then stomping on the gasping orc's head, crushing it like an overripe piece of fruit.

With the moment of reprieve, he watched while the golems continued to steadily march on to pulverize all who got too close. Ironhorn was running and goring anyone he could, running through people and impaling them on his horns, then shaking them off to make room for the next. Omnus was well back, using his metal threads to entangle and cut at people while they were under the effects of the mist, casting the occasional spell on those who seemed more hardy and able to resist it. Halyndra was sending out her silvery cloud of metal dust that further cut and slashed at those it touched, singing dark and unsettling hymns that weakened the resolve of some enough to make them flee in a random direction. Then there was Eorlas, who ducked and weaved to hack and slash at every chance she got. Be it claw or blade, she attacked with abandon.

The mobs were also doing well, attacking where they could cripple and killing those where they could before moving on to the next. It was all going smoothly. Too smoothly.

While backhanding away a hobgoblin that jumped at him, a terrible thought crossed his mind. One confirmed as more and more invaders continued to come. These were the cannon fodder of the invader's army.

Then the earth trembled.

Aegisthal ignored the goblins that were trying to stab at him while he turned to see the true forces of the invaders approaching. Thousands upon thousands of enemies could be seen marching with far better weapons and armor, each of them exuding more discipline than the rabble that was currently being mowed down by his forces. The trees behind them then shuddered as another thud could be felt and heard.

The trees burst apart as a new threat revealed itself, one that actually gave Aegisthal pause.

It must have been thirty feet tall at the head, its body composed of black iron with exposed pistons and gears. Rust was visible across its feline body while its lion head had horns in place of a mane. Four eyes were on its face, with two in place of where they should be and two more under those, closer to its fanged maw. A deep orange glow could be seen from between its fangs even at a distance. Spikes grew from its back along with a set of mechanical wings that were too small for the body, with rotted leather and chainmail for a membrane. Two twin stinger like tails grew from its backside, twisting and moving like hungry serpents eager to strike. It let out a horrid bellowing roar that sounded like the bastardization of a lion's roar composed of grinding, screeching metals.

On its back stood a figure who grasped a chain that connected to the mechanized chimera's shoulders.

Eorlas saw him as well, swiftly drawing her bow and taking a shot. The steel rod streaked across the sky towards its target. Then the chimera stopped the arrow, flaring its mane of metal horns and spikes to make a shield that deflected the projectile harmlessly to the side. The beast's barely restrained rage could be seen by all, its claws digging into the ground creating furrows, showing its eagerness to do what it was made to do as a machine of war.

Aegisthal was unsure how they were going to kill such a monster. It was far too big, too heavily armored, and dangerous despite its aged and partly rusted appearance.

They were in trouble…

***

Frizzy had lingered behind to watch over the fight and see the Blistermist in action. She was delighted with how well it had actually worked while Jack's army tore through the invaders. From what she saw, they lost maybe a few zombies and skeletons but were otherwise fine in terms of numbers.

She was especially amazed by the sheer power she witnessed when the four Sentinels fought, tearing through people the same way a child tore apart a leaf, leaving little behind but mangled bodies. She had never seen them fight before, and now that she had, she felt kind of sorry for the invaders. They didn't stand a chance, thanks to her and her disciple's involvement.

We might actually win this, she thought privately, feeling a flicker of optimism about their chances.

Then that optimism was crushed.

She saw a far larger number of new arrivals, far more than before. And worse still, the mechanized manticore revealed itself in all its horrifying glory. She didn't know how they were going to fight that. Even from where she hid, over four hundred yards away, she could smell the magic coming off of it. And there was only one kind of magic that reeked the way this manticore did.

Ancient magic.

Powerful ancient magic she was all too familiar with. The roar she heard from the thing was so horrid it drained the blood from her face. The sound hit her like a crashing wave, chilling her with the sheer murderous intent woven into it.

Then there was another roar.

One deeper, angrier, coming from the opposite direction, answering the mechanized manticore's call with a challenge of its own.

Everything paused at the sound. The mobs, the Sentinels, the invaders, the manticore, and even Frizzy turned to look in the direction it came from, all wondering what could possibly have the audacity to yell back a challenge of its own.

Then they heard it again, another roar, much louder this time, followed by the crashing of trees and the shuddering of the ground beneath heavy, rapidly approaching footsteps. Each thunderous step heralded the arrival of a challenger to the invader's machine of war.

Crashing through the trees, the challenger arrived, leaving Frizzy in awe and terror.

It landed with an earth-shaking crash. Then it rose, standing twenty-five feet tall at the head. A creation that looked like a primal predator given new flesh forged from steel. A beast of the old world, made anew. Ridden by Jack himself, the mechanized giant moved more like a living creature than a construct. It glared across the ash land at the manticore, hatred in its burning eyes.

Then it reared up, proclaiming its challenge with a deep, resonating roar while Jack patted the side of its neck, calling out with words that filled Frizzy with fleeting hope in the way only he could, just before the battle of titans began.

"Hello, fuckers! Who wants daddy's belt?!" Jack yelled, far too enthusiastically.