Rockheart knocked some dust off his arm, and the dust grew into his Rockling Bonebreakers, a dozen of them, in seconds. The gem in his belly glowed with a dark light as Rockheart felt Apothos drain out of him to create his faithful underlings.
Flynn winced. “I’m guessing you’re a Jade Leaf cultivator, at least. Maybe even a Heartwood.”
Rockheart was rather flattered, though the man was far from his mark. He was a high-level A-Class cultivator. He’d been stalled out at Rank 2 for the last decade. Gaining even a single rank at his level was a chore of years—part of the reason it rankled so to watch Logan advance by leaps and bounds. Even if Rockheart could make it to Rank 1, the chances of advancing to S-Class were minuscule. That shift required more than mere power. There was a mental and spiritual component to it that few ever understood or overcame. It required Revelation to forge the knots necessary to complete the task, which was the very reason there were less than fifty S-Class dungeon cores in all the known multiverse.
Shadowcroft was certainly among their number—as were the other dungeon academy headmasters—though it was rumored he was actually an SS-Class Crown cultivator. Whether that was true or not, no one could say for certain. Shadowcroft only laughed whenever someone asked him about it.
“Tell me the dungeon we’re facing isn’t going to be an S-Class dungeon,” the rogue said. “How’s about a bit of bloody good news, eh, my rocky friend?”
The man was smarmy. Normally, Rockheart would’ve wanted to watch him die slowly and horribly. In this case? He had definite plans for Flynn Corry and the rest of his ilk. “Don’t worry, Mr. Corry, the dungeon you face won’t be an S-Class. There will be four C-Class dungeon cores, all working in concert with one another. If you succeed in plundering the inner sanctum, you’ll get all their Apothos and your freedom. I wish you well in your endeavors.”
Flynn scratched his head. “Really? Multiple cores in a dungeon? I’ve not heard of such a thing.”
“And you won’t ever again,” Rockheart growled opening the cell door. “Not if I have a say in the matter.”
His Rockling Bonebreakers led Tetsukya “Tearclaw” Cratris out of the prison, down a hallway, and then down a set of steep stairs to the very bottom of the oasis, where a swampy room full of alligators waited, a central pedestal rising out of the swamp water. It was nice having thirteen dungeons on Arborea—they always had plenty of cells for their captives.
For now, the pedestal was empty. It would stay empty, so no one would get suspicious about why Yullis Rockheart was at the bottom of the Chaos Oasis.
The rector prime’s Rockling Bonebreakers latched onto the cat man in a flash, gripping his legs and arms in their stony grip.
“Why have you brought me here?” Tetsukya asked in a silky voice, unafraid.
Rockheart approached the cat man. “To kill you, obviously.”
He drove his stony claws into the heart of the cat man. Tetsukya was dead in seconds. Rockheart inhaled the dead raider’s Apothos while his own gem gleamed.
As a gargoyle-griffin, he could alter his shape, and while he hadn’t used his stone mimic ability in eons, becoming a copy of Tetsukya Tearclaw was easier than he would’ve thought.
His bonebreakers all grinned at him. One came forward with a shirt for him so he could cover the core gem gleaming in his belly. Another offered him the core crippling potion.
Rockheart took the vial in his cat paw. Logan and his cohort were cheating, even if Shadowcroft couldn’t see it, but going against them as a Jade Leaf cultivator would arouse suspicion. With this nasty elixir, he could temporarily cripple himself, dropping his level to Azure Branch for the length of the exam. He would be considerably weaker, with the same general abilities as the Jade Leaf cat man. Still, he had no worries about his chances against Logan and the others. Not even as a lowly B-Class.
After all, he knew everything there was to know about dungeons.
With that knowledge, he was going to help those raiders destroy the Terrible Twelfth.
A bonebreaker held up the red pants.
“The things I do for this school.” Rockheart sighed and put on the wretched garments.
Chapter Thirty-Four
THE WINNOWING. THE Final Exam. It all came down to this single Monday, probably the most epic Monday in Logan’s life.
Their four hours wouldn’t begin until they took control of the SandScream, and the very second their time elapsed, ruthless dungeoneers would be ushered in to kill and destroy, whether the Terrible Twelfth were ready or not. The deadlines were tight, and the work would be brutal. Especially considering the dungeon environment they had to work with. The inner sanctum was just sand, sand dunes, sand drifts, sand piles, and extra sand on the side. Sandstone ceilings hung over a sandstone floor where a pathetic pedestal stood—just a block of stone. No frills. No carvings. As boring as naptime in a kindergarten classroom.
But that was all about to change.
While Logan had spent a week in agony, processing the energy of the Red Lotus and forging a new knot, his friends had been busy designing a new dungeon—one that incorporated all of their unique abilities into something better than the sum of their parts.
Logan gathered his friends around him. “You guys ready?”
Marko smirked. “When am I not ready to be infected by my own personal mushroom lord? Hit me.”
Steeling his nerves, Logan let his Symbiotic spores come drifting out of the gills in his floppy yellow cap. “Make sure to breathe them in. We don’t have any time to waste. You’ll be infected, but it’s a good infection.”
Marko inhaled and held the spores in his lungs. “Yep. Good stuff. Symbiotic spores.” He had to choke out each word.
Treacle’s nostrils widened as he let the spores fill his lungs.
Marko Laskarelis and Treacle Glimmerhappy have accepted Symbiotic Bonding!
Notice: As the Infecting Agent, you alone can terminate the Symbiotic bond; in addition, you will receive 10% of all Apothos cultivated by Marko Laskarelis and Treacle Glimmerhappy from this point forward. Bonding initiating in 3... 2... 1...
Inga stood by, watching with an amused expression. She’d been bound to Logan for most of the year, and even after the effects of the Symbiosis wore off on Marko and Treacle, she would continue to be his partner in crime.
As the spores took root and spread through his two new hosts, tiny crystalline mushrooms appeared on their shoulders. After a beat, each grew a crown of delicate, crystalline mushrooms, until it looked like they were wearing fuzzy gold tiaras. Logan shuddered as energy and life flowed from his friends and into him, suffusing him with new Apothos. He’d grown accustomed to drawing a minute amount of residual power from the bond he had with Inga, but basically tripling that power in a matter of seconds was a heady rush. And unlike raw Apothos, siphoned off a dungeoneer, this energy didn’t need to be processed.
It was a part of him, because it was a part of them. Their cores were doing the work, while his reaped the reward.
Once the euphoric sensation passed, Logan took charge. As one, their gems detached from their corporeal guardian forms, floating over the pedestal. Logan’s a glimmering citrine, Inga’s a vibrant amethyst, Treacle’s a deep emerald, and Marko’s a pale blue aquamarine. At first, the four dungeon core gems drifted randomly, bobbing and weaving drunkenly, until they finally started to spin in clockwork unison. The energy flowing into Logan increased even more, and with it came connection.