Cat Core: A LitRPG Dungeon Core Adventure, page 1
Copyright © 2021 by Dean Henegar
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epiloge
Afterword
To Sydney, my little cat lady in training.
Introduction
“Why, hello there, Mr. Binkie. Aren’t you a little sweetheart this mornin’? Oh, don’t get all uppity there, Jingles. You know Momma loves you as much as the others,” Miss Florence Valentine cooed to her pets as she shuffled her way into the kitchen. With a sigh, she headed toward the pantry, where the dry cat food was kept. She did have some cans of wet food, but those were saved for special occasions, like Christmas, when the little lovelies deserved a treat. For their day-to-day meals, she gave them dry food. It was far too much work to clean up the mess from the wet food, and if there was one thing Florence Valentine abhorred, it was a mess.
Mornings were the good lord’s way of reminding her she had graced this world with her presence for the last eighty-six years. In the morning, every little ache and pain seemed to make itself known. If it wasn’t for all her little fur babies, she didn’t think she would find the motivation to get out of bed.
Hiss.
Rrroooww.
The troublemaker was at it again. Of all her eighteen cats, it was always Tater who seemed to cause trouble with the others. This time, he had worked himself into quite a tizzy; the little monster had decided that a certain food dish was his, and he wouldn’t let none of the others near it.
“Why, settle down there, Tater. You’ve got to share with your brothers and sisters like a good boy,” Florence chided as she opened the pantry door. At that moment, the memory hit her, revealing itself through the haze of just waking up. It was the worst thing that could happen—she was out of cat food.
“Lordy, I was supposed to head on into town yesterday. Looks like it’s a cat holiday today, boys and girls. Wet food it is,” she said with a forced smile, shaking the nearly empty bag of dry food to gather her babies for breakfast. The bag rattled with the remaining handful of nuggets, which she poured into one of the bowls before throwing away the bag. Her limited dry food distribution caused even more ruckus among her feline family as she began to pull a half dozen cans of Kozy Kat food out of her special-occasion shelf in the pantry. Six cans should do it; they didn’t need to scarf down too much of the wet food or they’d be yacking it up all over her carpets.
“Here you go, my loves. Kozy Kat Chicken and Cheese flavor today for everyone.” She would have more cleanup to do when she got home, but for now, she had to head out before it got close to noon and all those inattentive drivers looking at their fancy phones got out on the road. Just thinking about those phones made her blood boil. Why couldn’t people just be satisfied with what they had? Her good old-fashioned rotary phone had worked perfectly for over fifty years. How could these kids say their phones were new and improved? She’d like to see one of those flashy things last fifty years and still work as good as the day it was built.
Her car keys were on the pegboard by the front door, like they always were, and her pocketbook was by her favorite recliner. Checking to make sure she had enough cash for a two-week supply of food and litter, Florence fired up her 1991 Buick Century and headed into town. As she turned onto the main highway, she forced a smile and waved at old Tabitha Long, who had foolishly bought that corner house with all the traffic noise so many years ago.
“Yes, hello, you old bitty. You’re the biggest busybody in Logan County, I’ll have you know,” Florence whispered to herself. She gave the woman a smile and a polite wave, because that was what a lady did, and if Florence Valentine was anything, she was a lady. With a sigh, she realized she would have to stop by and visit Tabitha at some point this week, lest she become the target of her gossiping to the other ladies in town. She didn’t like the woman, and if she were honest, she didn’t really like anyone—except for her babies, of course. Cats would never let you down and were always there for you with a meow and a comforting purr. It was the good lord’s grace that the little critters were placed on this Earth, and it was Florence Valentine’s duty to make sure her little ones were well taken care of.
A few impatient drivers honked at her on the way to the small strip mall. Randalph’s Family Pets opened back in 1975, and she’d been going there ever since. The old man died a while ago, and his son was now running the place. She didn’t like him, either, but at least the man showed some respect to the elderly, not like most of the useless kids running around these days.
Another driver honked at her as she pulled in. Why? Couldn’t these folks see her car required a large turning radius when it pulled into the narrow parking lot? They should just back up and give her room. The pair of handicap spaces in front of the store were full . . . again. What was wrong with people? Everyone and their uncle had a handicap placard, and most of them weren’t disabled or elderly; they were just fat pigs who didn’t have a lick of common sense or the willpower to put down their fork.
Parking several spaces back, Florence made her way from the car to the store, giving the cars in the handicap spaces a good shake of her cane. At the door to the pet store, a young man exited the building, eyes glued to his phone and lacking the decency to even hold the door open for an old lady. After almost getting bowled over by the wretch, she decided to give him a piece of her mind.
“Well, I never! Your mama sure didn’t raise you right, young man,” she chided.
The young man looked up at her with a moronic scowl. “You talking to me, old lady? Mind your own business,” the hooligan spouted before going to his car, which happened to be parked in a handicap space. She was going to call the authorities; that young man needed a ticket for what he had just done.
“Get me Mr. Randalph. He needs to call the police on that young man. That criminal was parking in the handicap space and forced me to park all the way across the lot. You know my knees can’t take that much walking these days. Mr. Randalph, where are you? Useless as his daddy was, I fear to say.”
Florence stopped mid-diatribe. Something was wrong with the store. Gone were the shabby shelves and scuffed linoleum floors. Gone were the rows of pet supplies and toys. Gone were the pets.
“Lady, do you mean the old pet store that used to be here?” a young man asked her.
“Of course. The pet store’s been here for near close onto fifty years,” Florence replied.
“Oh, that place was closed a week ago. This is Mad Dog’s Games and Vaping, lady. Want to try out a game or a vape?”
She was aghast, only just now noticing the place was full of young wastrels playing card games, smoking those electronic devil’s cigarettes, and generally doing nothing productive.
“Why, I never! The nerve, you cheeky little . . .” Florence sputtered. Several young men had their phones out and were audacious enough to be filming her without her permission.
“Games or vapes, lady. That’s all we got here. I’ve got a few starter decks for Mayhem the Get-Together if you want to learn to play,” the young man said, gesturing toward the collection of poorly groomed youths playing some kind of evil card game. Why, there were demons and all kinds of horrible things on those cards. How was something like that even legal?
“No thank you! I’m a good church-going woman and will not partake in your intoxicants or waste my time playing games with such disturbing pictures. Shameful, the lot of you. I hope your mothers have passed on into the good lord’s arms, because it must break their hearts to see all you young men engaged in such dissipation,” she said with an emphatic shake of her cane to show she was serious.
“Woah, this lady’s a trip. Come on, Grandma. Join us for a game and a smoke,” one of the kids playing the card game taunted. The others around the table chuckled, and only the young man she had first spoken to—who she gathered oversaw this den of iniquity—managed to keep a straight face. Florence exited the horrible establishment, only to find that another of those young hooligans had stopped in front of her, impeding her progress. She made a point to speed up, despite the pain in her knees and lower back, shoving the young man for all she was worth.
“Oh no!” she sputtered as her bad knee locked up and she fell into the parking lot. The squeal of brakes assaulted her hearing as a large delivery v
* * *
“Woah, did you see that crazy old lady? I got that on my phone. This is going to rake in the views,” an onlooker said to the gathering crowd.
Those useless miscreants should be calling an ambulance and checking on her condition, not playing with those cursed phones. She opened her eyes, her vision strangely crisp and very much as it had been in her youth. She was standing, and a body was wedged under the delivery van that had nearly crashed into her. Strangely, she was moving without feeling it. Someone started pulling on her as the fog began to roll in. It wasn’t supposed to be foggy today. She didn’t want to drive home in this mess.
Her mind was fuzzy, and she knew something was wrong with her, but there wasn’t any pain. The feeling was surreal. She had lived in constant pain for nearly half a century, and to be without it was, in a way, almost disturbing. She was beginning to think the delivery van hadn’t missed her after all when a voice called out. The voice had a strange accent she couldn’t place. She must be okay. The voice sounded like some city slicker, and she figured only good old country folk would be there to greet her in the afterlife. It must be a doctor and she was in the hospital. That was it. There were lots of fancy folks with accents who worked in the county emergency room.
Welcome, human! You have been selected among the billions of your kind to be granted a great honor.
Uh-oh, something definitely wasn’t right, and Florence Valentine was not going to take it. Oh, no. Someone was about to get a piece of her mind!
Chapter 1
“All right, buster, you better have a good explanation for what’s going on. I have half a mind to call the sheriff over right this minute,” she said, meaning to shake her cane for emphasis, but it wasn’t there. In fact, she couldn’t feel her body at all.
“Human, there is no need to fear. Your transformation is underway. You will become the newest dungeon core for the world of Aerkon. You may not realize it, but for all your life, you have been preparing for this moment. The video games in your world have been simulators to test your mettle. You have been measured, human, and have been found worthy of this call,” the voice said, spouting nonsense as far as she was concerned.
“Just you hold on there. Quit with your crazy talk. Everyone in Logan County knows that Florence Valentine is a patient woman, but even I have my limits,” Florence informed the voice. Her anger turned to anxiety as she realized she couldn’t see anything. The fog had dissipated, and in its place was an impenetrable darkness. “Hey, while you’re at it, get some lights on in here. It’s like you were born in a barn, I tell you.”
“I’m afraid, human, that I don’t quite understand your line of questioning. Is your odd manner of speech and these strange demands an attempt at humor or perhaps a coping mechanism to deal with your transition? Nevertheless, time is of the essence, and you have a lot to learn and not much time to do it. You will find that your existence will match very closely the game Dungeon Custodian 4. That was a fine piece of work, I must say. Your game developers are so easily steered toward making what we wish,” the man yammered out. Who did he think he was, talking to her like this, rambling on about games and prisons and all that nonsense?
“I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I can assure you I’ve never played one of those useless video games in my life. Now, I did have a little bird tell me something about Samantha Lewis, the widow, not the one that just retired from the post office. Well, Samantha Lewis is said to spend far too much time on her new phone playing that Candy Grinder or whatever it’s called, but I have never partaken of any of that foolishness,” Florence said with conviction, not feeling the least bit guilty about passing on the information about Samantha. After all, she didn’t start the rumor, and Lori Buchanon said she heard it from someone with first-hand knowledge, and everyone knew Lori wasn’t a gossip any more than Florence Valentine was.
“I’m afraid you have confused me, human,” the man started. “You are Aaron Lavelle, the twenty-two-year-old student and a top-ten ranked player on the Dungeon Custodian ladder, are you not?” the voice asked.
“I most certainly am not! I am Florence Valentine, not some moron of a game player standing on a ladder and most definitely not someone named Aaron Lavelle.”
“Oh dear. Please wait one moment while I review the feed from the translocation,” the man said, and Florence began to feel a prickly sensation all over her body. That was it—she had finally figured out what was going on. She was having a vivid dream and was in the hospital. She had seen on one of her shows how people in the hospital sometimes woke up during surgery. That van must have hurt her badly and she was now being operated on in the emergency room. All this craziness was from the drugs they had pumped into her.
“Why, this is highly unusual. I dare say it hasn’t happened in, well, ever, as far as I can recall. I’m sorry to tell you. What was your name again?” the man asked.
“I am Florence Valentine, and you better get to the point, sir.”
“Yes, well, Florence Valentine, you have stumbled, quite literally, into somewhere you weren’t meant to be. You see, you have died, and your soul has been gathered by the Procurement Guild for use in the dungeon world of Aerkon. I am terribly sorry, but fear not: I shall see that you’re assigned a top-notch fairy that will help you transition smoothly into your new existence,” the man said dismissively.
“I’m what? You better send me back to where I came from right now, young man! Drug-induced dream or not, you don’t go around telling folks they’re dead and all that other gobbledygook,” Florence shouted—or at least tried to. Only now did she realize she wasn’t really speaking, only somehow projecting her thoughts to the other person in the room or wherever it was that she found herself.
“I would love nothing more than to send you back, but that is obviously not possible now, is it?” the man said. “You’ve been expired for approximately thirty-seven of your years at this point. It does take time to transform your soul essence into a core, you know. I’m afraid you’ll have to just accept your new lot in life. I’m sure you will pick things up quickly.”
“Oh, no you don’t, Mister . . . What exactly is your name? You know, it’s considered very rude to speak to a lady without properly introducing yourself. How would your mother feel if she could see you now?”
“I am a dungeon formation specialist of the fifth rank. We do not have anything so trite as an individual name designation like the lower forms of life do. I also do not have a mother. My kind just exists. If that has answered your question, I will need you to select your initial placement so we can send you on to your new life. With your rather formidable attitude, I can see that you are going to go far,” the man said with annoyance in his voice.
Your core gem has been created. Select a location for your dungeon:
1. Faernhill Marsh
2. Daegoth Mountains
3. Valley of Zurgash
She didn’t know what any of these places were. Definitely not somewhere in Logan County. It could be somewhere in Claiborne County; those folks had some strange names for things. Despite what county these places were in, she sure as shooting wasn’t going to let this no-named, arrogant fool pawn her off on someone else. No sir. She was determined to get to the bottom of this. Florence Valentine had dealt with enough pompous store clerks in her day to know how to handle this one.
“Don’t give me any poppycock about not having a name just so I can’t report you, Mr. Dungeon Formation Specialist. I’m going to call you Doug. There, that’s settled. Now, Doug, I am not going to be sent to any of these places. You will send me home, but not until I speak to your manager,” she demanded, wishing she had her cane so she could shake it with authority. That always seemed to work at the drug store when the clerks took too long to get her prescriptions.
You have requested interaction with a master-level administrator. Please confirm this is your desire. Once made, requests for escalation cannot be rescinded and the judgments of the administrator will be final. Possible outcomes include the following:
1. Modification to existing core location and an initial allocation of resources
