Return to Dungeon: A Monster MC LitRPG (Kobold's Quest Book 1) Read online

  Return to Dungeon

  Kobold’s Quest Book One

  MJ Kaltenbrunner

  Contents

  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

  Also by MJ Kaltenbrunner

  1

  They were only a few hours from the mercenary camp. The moist heat of the jungle and the ever-present risk of danger made it seem like the trek had taken the hunting party days. It was much safer back at camp, but even then, only the most desperate or foolish men dared to tread that far into the Deathbloom Jungle.

  Kek, unlike the men in the party, did not have a choice—and he wasn’t a man. He was a kobold, a furry race of dog-like humanoids who were more closely related to goblins than men. He stood not much higher than four feet tall and wasn’t heavily built.

  He had also been a slave since he was born a hapless pup into a world of selfishness and evil.

  "What are you doing, dog?" Prate, leader of the hunting party, shouted. He was big, bald, ugly, and always mad about something.

  Kek ignored the harsh words. He'd been running ahead of the humans all day, leading a pack of dogs on a hunting trip. It was embarrassing enough to be treated like he was a dog and forced to run with a pack of them. Prate’s gravelly voice and abrasive disposition wore on his nerves more than ever when they were out hunting in the harsh jungle terrain.

  "Kobold! What are you doing? Get back on the trail with the rest of the animals."

  "I’m not an animal," the short humanoid muttered beneath his breath.

  They were a long way from the camp, but Kek didn't have any problem being around fewer humans. It usually meant less chance of being yelled at or hit. Something had caught the attention of his keen sense of sight, which was enhanced like a dog's. There, across the dense section of jungle they were trudging through, was a thick formation of moss hanging inside the opening of a rocky cavern at the top of a grass covered slope. Straying from the hunting party might make the hunters think he was trying to escape, but his master was desperate for some Liathon plant, more than any other alchemy ingredient. It had to be worth the risk or master would not want it so badly.

  “Hey, blue mutt! Get back in line!” shouted the angry man. “What’ve you spotted, you idiot?”

  “I’ll follow after him and see if it’s anything good. If we come back with just birds and fruit again, we’ll really be the least popular men in camp,” replied one of the other hunters; it was often hard to catch enough food in the jungle, even using the pack of dogs to do the job.

  Kek ignored this. The idea of his master smiling and praising him for finding the last ingredient they needed made it seem worth another beating. It was hard to see through the dense walls of leaves and tree trunks that surrounded him. They were hunting just inside the border of the Deathbloom Jungle's interior. He thought it was an aptly fitting name for a place that seemed custom-made to distribute death. Only the most desperate—or foolish—had ever been there. The mercenary band that enslaved Kek and his master were both.

  The ground rose toward a rocky dome that jutted above the lower canopy of the jungle. It was pure luck that Kek had noticed it at all. He felt his way toward it as fast as possible, simply hoping there were no deadly snakes or insects among the thick foliage he pushed through. He'd seen enough men die slow, agonizing deaths that the thought of a snake bite made him break out into a sweat, which was then amplified by the humidity that was almost unbearable, like treading water instead of scurrying through the green jungle.

  Finally, the scruffy kobold came to the base of the isolated cave. It was shaped just as Hendrik, his owner, had described, and inside would be the Liathon plant, the final ingredient the wise druid had been searching for. Kek heard one of the mercenaries behind him, stomping like a child and cursing as he became tangled in exposed roots and thick bushes.

  "I'll kill you when I find you, dog man!"

  That wasn't a genuine threat, but a beating was almost guaranteed. As Kek went into the moss-covered cave, sunlight dripping down in straight lines from cracks at the top of the rocky dome, his eyes were met by one of the prettiest flowers he'd ever seen. And he recognized it instantly from Hendrik’s description. The Liathon plant had purple and green petals, like a rose but much longer, and each was entirely one color or the other. Tendrils of gold and silver seemed to dance atop a blood red bud in the center. The whole plant was only the size of a kobold pup. He didn't know why seeing the Liathon brought up thoughts of youth.

  Grabbing it, he ran back outside to meet the mercenary keeper before the man really did become enraged beyond reason.

  "You! You, fucking furry goblin runt, kibble eating, tail chasing ..." The man was already out of breath from running, and yelling took the last bit of wind from his sails. Bending over with hands on his knees, he had to catch his breath. "What? You, you didn't even catch any game? A plant? You put me through that for a plant? Come, now, back to the rest of the party. I'll deal with you when I'm not sweating like a sinner in the fires of the hells."

  "Yes," was all Kek said, keeping his eyes down and making himself appear as small as possible. These mercenaries acted like heartless murderers, and for the most part, that was true, but the kobold had seldom come across a human who didn't have a soft spot in his heart for dogs—and that sometimes extended to dog-like creatures like himself.

  As they came back to the rest of the group, the other hunters looked disappointed to see Kek upright and free of fresh injuries. "You pussied out again, worthless dreg," one said to the man who'd chased Kek.

  "Don't you worry, he'll not go unpunished. Just ... just let me rest for a few minutes." The mercenary leaned against an adjacent tree and then slid himself down to a sitting position.

  "You lazy piece of shit," Prate said with characteristic vulgarity. "I'm in charge of this hunting party, and I'll say when we stop for lunch. But, ah, now that you mention it, I am hungry. All right, lads, we're stopping for lunch! Water the dogs. This sorry excuse for a kobold can go without his meal as punishment."

  His stomach was already growling, but at least there wasn't going to be a beating any time soon. Once they were back in the mercenary camp, he was sure his master would be able to stop that from happening. No one had noticed him tuck the Liathon leaves neatly into the pocket of his tattered pants. Hopefully they would be safe there. Anticipation of what those humble leaves could help him and his own accomplish was almost too much to hide.

  2

  After their meal, the hunting party members smoked their pipe tobacco and sipped ale from leather flasks, relaxing in the wet heat beneath the jungle canopy’s shade. Some of the dogs were restless, like they could not find a comfortable place to sit.

  Prate looked up with a foul expression. "Kobold! Calm those dogs down. They're meant to be resting before we get back on the hunt. Make sure
they have enough water. I suppose you should have some of that too. I can't imagine the earful I'd have to put up with if I let our precious druid's pet die of dehydration."

  Kek wasn't paying attention. He knew the dogs better than anyone, and something was up. Out in the depths of the jungle, that could often mean something was very bad was coming. He took note of where the restless dogs were looking and followed the line of sight to the dense tree line. "Quiet," said Kek to one of the dogs that was making whimpering sounds. Something was rustling through the surrounding green.

  "What do you see, kobold? Kek?" Prate asked, using the more respectful choice of his real name, which was rare. He must have been scared, and if that violent mercenary was afraid, it was a bad sign. A rumbling sound built up, but it was almost inaudible, more of a feeling than an actual sound. "What have you drawn to us!?" shouted the man, now running toward the quavering kobold. His fist was in the air, the other hand getting ready to draw his short sword. That was lucky for him, because the trees just behind the frightened blue creature started to move, as if alive.

  "Wasps! Get the hells out of here if you value your life!" another of the hunters cried out. But no one needed to be told to run from the buzzing monsters. As the men shuffled about to collect their belongings and get the hell out of there, at least a dozen giant wasps came into the clearing of the pathway.

  They were half the size of Kek, but so much more intimidating. The things were basically oval-shaped bodies covered in a strangely shaggy type of fuzz. Unlike bumblebees or smaller varieties of wasps, these were green, and bright like they were illuminated somehow. Their wings moved so quickly that they were almost invisible to the naked eye. And the insects’ own eyes were numerous, covering their circular heads, which were attached to the front of their bodies. Each of the creatures had ten spindly legs that dangled along beneath the plump body is as though there were only tied on with string. The disinterested, almost bored look the insects maintained only made it more terrifying to think of what that would be capable of doing.

  Tales had been told around the camp throughout the years of men being killed in an instant after being stung. And these hovering beasts were fast and agile enough to bypass even a confident fighter’s defenses.

  In an instant, the hunting party had transformed from men enjoying lunch to a group armed with spears and short swords ready to take on the interlopers. A wave of giant wasps surged from the edges of the green by the path. The jungle was again still, with in the narrow clearing now bustling as man went tooth and nail against nature.

  There were ten men in the hunting party, but each of them was much less dexterous than their assailants; the insects deftly avoided sharp steel blades and spear tips as they buzzed around.

  "We've got to get out of here before they do us in," screamed one of the less experienced hunters. This was only his fourth or fifth expedition into the deeper part of the jungle. He dropped his spear and turned to run down the path that would lead to him back to the mercenary camp.

  "Get back here and fight, you mangy mongrel!" Prate screamed at the man. "Any more of you run, and I'll stick my sword between your rib cages personally."

  One by one, the men succumbed to the superior stamina of the terrible wasps, largely bolstered by their ability to flutter around just out of reach when they needed to avoid being struck by a weapon or fist.

  Kek was left out of the fray throughout all of this. The wasps didn't favor him when there was larger prey. Especially when that prey was sweaty, stinky, and full of rich blood. Instead of joining the fight, Kek ran over to where the dogs were, trying and keep them calm and prevent them from fleeing in fright.

  These humans used the dogs for a good reason when they went out hunting. The jungle was full of things much harder to kill than these wasps. It was just too difficult to catch game when you could only run as fast as man. But against the flying insects, even the dogs were largely useless. The pack of twenty, four-legged animals had immediately scattered into the nearby undergrowth where they whimpered and let out uncertain barks at the fray. The dogs were eager to stay with Kek. If the dogs had anyone outside of their own pack they liked, not just feared, it was the blue dog-man.

  Another of the humans was stung by a wasp and hit the ground like a sack of rocks, almost certainly dead before landing. They must've already lost half the hunting party, and the sense of initial valor in the humans was quickly waning. "Run for your lives if you know what's good for you," shouted Prate, his bald head drenched with perspiration and some blood that might or might not have been his own. It was time to give up.

  It was clear to Kek that hiding was not going to be an option for much longer as the party of humans was thinned out more. Suddenly, he realized there were now more options open to him, which had never been there before. He’d overlooked what was staring him right in the face during this bloody battle: there was absolutely no reason for him to wait there for the wasps to get to him. Unfortunately, the dogs would probably stay near the humans until death—they had been raised very strictly—but Kek tried to encourage them to go back to the camp to safety.

  "Come on, furry friends, there's no use sticking around here." He used his arms and small grunts and growls to indicate that the dog should follow him. It was working too, much to his surprise. "Yes, that's right!" The group of twenty dogs, plus one kobold, moved away from the buzzing and the shouting and the noises of obvious pain and desperation. Kek could sense the dogs’ distress. Even a dog would be loyal to someone who was cruel to it.

  Finally, Kek managed to get the dogs to break their focus from the battling humans long enough to start them running. Kek certainly had no love lost as he thought about the hunting party being decimated. But he had been raised by a wise and noble man, and the idea of the leaving the humans to die was too callous. He had to at least try to help.

  He slowed down until he was barely jogging along. Then, he sped back up and shook his head. He felt those pangs of guilt again and then slowed once more. Finally, he turned back around and ran to the clearing. Few humans were still upright, and it looked like some of them were gone completely. They’d probably ran off in fear for their lives. But Kek remembered the stories he’d heard of giant wasps carrying creatures away in groups. Shaking the thought away, Kek looked around until he saw some large stones.

  He shouted, "Hey, overgrown bumblebees! Don't you know you shouldn't pick on humans? They're too stupid to defend themselves!" He threw one of the stones toward the nearest insect. It had been buzzing around the head of one of the more skilled hunters who was still standing. As the stone hit it, the wasp faltered in the air and dropped a foot. That gave its opponent a chance to stab a spear right through its fat body.

  "That's right, buzzing bastard!" yelled the hunter as he's smashed the spear downward and squished the impaled bug on the ground. He then looked right at Kek, and it was clear he was thankful for his help. Maybe that man would no longer be quite as mean to the kobold.

  But Kek didn't count on it. He threw another stone over, but it hit a tree instead of one of the bugs. That still got the giant wasp’s attention and allowed the human it had been chasing to get away. Kek continued. He could see his actions directly saving lives and it felt good, even if they were the lives of people he didn't particularly like. Soon, the remaining hunters had all gotten away, running in the direction of the mercenary camp. Being relatively simple-minded, the giant wasps didn't chase them for more than twenty feet.

  3

  Kek found himself alone, separated from the humans he had just helped to save in the commotion. They’d forgotten him. He knew the dogs would be far ahead too. Escaping had never presented itself in the past, and it seemed unthinkable to overlook now. Kek slowed down and allowed the group to move forward without him. Not even one of the humans turned to make sure their captive kobold followed.

  And just like that, he was completely alone in the jungles interior. It was almost mind shattering to experience something so foreign to
him, especially to go from heated conflict with so much noise and emotion to just standing among the trees and bushes with the jungle canopy hanging overhead, partially obscuring the sun's light from his vision.

  This could be the start of a whole new life for him. He was a free individual, never to be someone else’s property again. Kek put his hands on his face, touching his skin, making sure this was real. He had had dreams that started in a similar fashion, and those always turned into nightmares. Something was sure to come bursting through the nearby foliage to devour him in one gulp any second now.

  No, he certainly should not have thought of that. The image would not get out of his head now. The blue fur on his back stood on end all the way up to his neck. He had no equipment apart from his well-worn clothing and the rare leaves he'd picked for his master. If anything did attack him, he would be completely done for if he couldn’t run away. And what kind of a life would it be to run all the time? Come to think of it, he’d probably wind up on the run from the rest of the mercenaries when they discovered that he'd escaped.

  And just like that, Kek realized that he wasn’t free. This was just an illusion of freedom. It was a cruel joke he played on himself thinking he could be anything else but a slave. He hated being someone else's property more than anything, or so he'd always thought. Maybe he was just afraid of the big wide world and hated the idea of being free even more. A bitter knot twisted in his stomach. He was glad kobolds couldn’t cry as he headed back to the mercenary camp—by choice.