“DnD. Dungeons and Dragons. At best, a simulation of how the real world works. At worst, it’s a game designed to sell pizza and dice.” Shadowcroft nodded. “Yet there is some truth in your words, young one. Sadly, because of your crippled core, you are limited to lower-class guardians. Here is the full list of all options available to all cultivation levels.”
With a flick of Shadowcroft’s wooden fingers, the gem showed Logan thousands of monsters—a dizzying array that included a Terror Strig, a Slime Prince, and more normal dungeon denizens: lich kings, insect royalty, eldritch horrors, ancient dragons of every size, shape, and color, and yes, there was the Spider Sorcerer he’d beaten the game with.
Most of the creatures were amazing, powerful, and scary. Many were so bizarre that Logan had to do a quick sanity check. Gelatinous Knight? Cleanup on aisle five.
Then, just as quick as the options appeared, Shadowcroft dismissed the menagerie. “Yes, we have an impressive list of possible guardian forms, but, as I said, you cannot choose any of them. I would change things if I could, but the situation is this—you are a Deep Root cultivator, Class E, Rank 9. The guardian forms you have access to are directly proportional to your Core Class at the time of selection. These are the only possible forms for you to use.”
The six bland figures flickered back into sight. The Goober Changeling emitted a goblinny giggle and a new blue pimple appeared on its face.
“Can I upgrade my form when my core improves?” Logan asked.
“Advances is the term,” the headmaster said. “When your core advances. And I’m afraid not. However, as previously mentioned, your guardian form will evolve as your cultivation improves.”
“But that’s just it,” Logan said. “Evolving is hard to do when you’re dead. How the heck am I supposed to advance as a Putrid Ratling?”
Shadowcroft softened. “Your worry is understandable. And, truthfully, this situation pains me, Mr. Murray. I am sorry your options are so terribly limited, your chances are poor, and that there is a good chance that the Reaper Box I sent out into the multiverse has doomed you. However, the Tree of Souls has a wisdom that defies our mortal understanding. The Tree knows how to protect itself. I believe that you were chosen to fight in this war for a reason, even if it is hard to glean that reason in the here and now.”
Logan hardly listened. He reviewed the pathetic classes again. He stood and shook his head. “Nope. You’re talking about my life and death. I’m not going to fight your war as a newb sewer rat or shower mold. Just send me back.”
“Back?” Shadowcroft looked shocked. “No, no. I’m afraid you misunderstand. There is no going back. I can dissolve your core and feed your energy into the Tree if you’d like, but your body is gone. Devoured. Your flesh was converted into the energy that is powering you at this very moment. There is only forward.”
Chapter Five
THERE IS NO GOING BACK. There is only forward. The words echoed in his head like the clarion chime of a struck bell.
Wow. Now that was a hell of a gut punch.
Logan sat down. He swallowed hard and pressed his eyes shut. There was no going back. Others might get an afterlife, but he got a temporary body and a one-way ticket into a dungeon core academy.
He thought about the people who would miss him. Upon reflection, it was a rather short list. Uncle Bud would inherit the house and the dogs. Ramon could take over the landscaping business. His military buddies would see his obituary or read about his messy death on Facebook, and they’d raise a glass in his honor. Lizzy, his old girlfriend, had already moved on. His parents were gone.
For a minute he felt alone, a bit lost, but then remembered what Sergeant Major Baker had said to him after his accident. Not every soldier got to go home with a heartbeat. There was no going back, and if he lived in regret and resentment, that would kill him just as surely as the mimic had. If he was going to make it here, he needed to find the silver lining. That was the only way to deal.
So maybe this wasn’t perfect. Maybe he was starting out at a disadvantage, and maybe he’d have to climb his way up from the very bottom, rung by bloody rung. But he also had the opportunity to do some real good. To save the world—his world—and protect the Tree of Souls. At the same time, his imagination was fired up and blasting on all cylinders. What in the hell was a dungeon core academy anyway? How was this going to work? What were the classes going to be like?
He’d been out of the Army for a while, and though he’d been running his landscaping business, he’d always secretly nursed the dream of using his GI Bill benefits to go to college at some point. What the hell. He might as well get a degree in advanced dungeoneering. It would be more interesting than a business and marketing degree.
Above all, Logan was a survivor, and though his choices were bad, he’d never been one to stew or sulk. If these were his options... Well, he’d find the one that would give him the best chance. An edge. Then? Then he’d improvise, adapt, and overcome. His unit had always had to do more with less. He could do the same here. He just needed to be smart about it.
Logan opened his eyes. “So I need to pick a guardian form and level up so I can eventually save the Earth.” He nodded. “The only way is forward. Show me my options again.”
Shadowcroft put his hands together, and it was the sound of two-by-fours clapping. “Yes, now there is that enthusiasm I so enjoy. Feel free to study your options. I will try to give you all the time you need, but you should hurry.”
Logan shook his head. “I’m on the clock, got it.”
He skipped over Putrid Ratling without a second thought and flew by the Stink Slime options—he had absolutely no desire to spend the next century as sentient nose mucus. Next up was the Muck Crab, and though the creature didn’t sound overly appealing, it was a far cry better than the other options he’d seen so far.
The Muck Crab guardian form was perfect for underwater dungeons, and he would be able to summon a variety of aquatic minions. The deadly beastie could also engineer interesting coral traps and cast sand-based spells. The melee attacks were okay, and the physical armor stat was decent enough, but at the lowest level, some hungry dungeoneers might come looking for a seafood buffet. One-on-one, the Muck Crab wasn’t the worst option. Against a bevy of raiders? Logan wouldn’t last five minutes. And weren’t crustaceans just the spiders of the sea? He’d gotten used to walking around as a bipedal animal with four limbs and an internal skeleton.
The Goober Changeling was bipedal, and it started off with the amazing ability to grow three inches and add ten pounds to its chubby frame. It was basically an uncoordinated baby troll without any natural armor. It did have the physical ability to turn its fingers into scissors—short, stubby scissors with the blunt ends like the ones Logan had used in the third grade. Unfortunately, as terrible as the Changeling was, it went onto the maybe list.
The Anemic Strig was actually rather promising. Part feathered bat, part mosquito with a skin condition, the two-foot-long monster could suck blood, fly, and swell its body so much that physical attacks would bounce off its thick, metallic feathers. It could also summon insect clouds and set up bloodsucker traps, but in the end, the thing was crazy ugly and didn’t seem to have much versatility. It was a one-trick pony with a mediocre trick at best.