The Tomb of Blood and Ash: A Non-LitRPG Dungeon Core Story

[TheGodof ThronesAboundant]

Part 1: The Scavenger's Lament

"The Gilded Cage" was a tavern that belied its name. The structure, built upon scrawled on splintered wood above a door that reeks of stale ale and desperation, feels like a particularly cruel joke. Inside, the raw laughter and slurred shouts of the half-drunk barely mask the desolation, despondency of a populace simply trying to drown out the rot that permeates everything. It's another symptom of the Aethelgard Imperium's pervasive disparity, a disease more insidious than any plague. Kaelen isn't here for the drink, nor for the questionable company; he's seen enough of both to last a lifetime. He's here for the whispers, the currents of rumor that scuttle through Veridian's underbelly like the rats in its choked sewers. Information is currency in this gods-forsaken corner of the Imperium, more valuable than copper, often worth more than a man's life. Kaelen, know those who are always looking to trade.

A hulking figure, scarred and brutish, finally spills from the tavern's warped door, stumbling into the piss-slicked alleyway. Kaelen recognizes him instantly: Silas, a low-level enforcer for the Viper's Coil, one of Veridian's many predatory gangs that thrive in the Imperium's festering corruption. Silas is known for his loose tongue after too many drinks, a weakness Kaelen's been counting on. He's spent the last hour watching the oaf, a patient shadow in the gloom, waiting for the precise moment. A hunter's patience, born of a hunter's hunger.

Silas leans heavily against the grimy brick wall, fumbling with something in his pocket. A glint of metal catches Kaelen's eye – a silver coin, a rare, almost impossible sight in a city that traffics mostly in dull copper and stolen, tarnished goods. This isn't just interesting; a cold knot of curiosity tightens in Kaelen's gut. Silas, a man who usually barely scrapes by, whose life is as cheap as any other in the Imperium's lowest strata, has somehow found himself a prize. The kind of prize that usually leaves a trail of fresh graves, even in a city already overflowing with them.

As Silas grumbles to himself, a low, guttural murmur of drunken self-pity, oblivious to the eyes watching him from the oppressive gloom, Kaelen moves. His footsteps are silent, a lifetime of navigating Veridian's treacherous alleys having honed him into a shadow made flesh. He's behind Silas before the brutish man's ale-fogged brain even registers a change in the cold, wet air.

"That's a nice coin you've got there, Silas," Kaelen's voice is a low growl, barely audible over the relentless pounding rain that cleanses nothing in this city, only washes the filth into new cracks.

Silas startles, spinning with a surprisingly quick, clumsy movement for his bulk. His hand instinctively slaps to the rusty knife at his belt, a reflex born of endless petty squabbles. But Kaelen's own blade is already kissing his throat, its cold steel a stark contrast to the sudden, greasy flush of fear on Silas's face.

"Kaelen," Silas stammers, eyes wide with a mix of recognition and raw terror. He knows Kaelen's reputation – a ghost in the alleys, a whisper in the dark, a gatherer of truths that can kill you faster than any poisoned dagger, and often does. "What... what do you want?"

"Just a little conversation," Kaelen replies, applying just enough pressure with the blade to make his point clear, just enough to feel the pulse fluttering beneath the skin, a pathetic little drumbeat of fear. "And perhaps to know where a man like you, barely a step above the street rats, gets a coin like that in this city of copper and despair."

Silas swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing precariously against the sharp edge. "It's... It's nothing. Just a lucky find." The lie tastes bitter, even to Kaelen. Silas is a terrible liar, which makes him useful in his own way.

Kaelen doesn't believe in luck, not in Veridian, not in the unforgiving Aethelgard Imperium. Every "lucky find" has a price, usually paid in blood or despair, often both. "A lucky find that just happens to be pure silver? In the deepest, most forgotten pits of this city? Unlikely, Silas. Very unlikely. The Imperium's wealth doesn't just fall into the hands of Viper's Coil thugs. Not unless someone with real power is shaking the tree, and someone else is getting crushed underneath."

He presses the blade a fraction deeper, and Silas whimpers, the sound thin and pathetic, swallowed by the relentless rain. "Alright! Alright! It was from the docks, alright? A new shipment came in, quiet-like, under the cover of the Long Night. No flags, no fanfare, nothing registered with the Port Authority, just some hushed words and heavy coin. Just a few crates, guarded by some hard-faced bastards I've never seen before, men who look like they've stepped out of the Imperator's own Crimson Guard, but with no sigils. No crests, no markings, just hard eyes and iron discipline. Viper's Coil was told to keep clear, not to even breathe near it, let alone skim a few scraps. Our bosses said it came from the Dread Wastes, something ancient." Silas's voice is a frantic rush, words tumbling out to escape the steel, fear loosening his tongue more effectively than any ale. "They were sealed tight. Big, heavy things. And the guards... they weren't talking. Just glowering, their hands never far from their weapons. They look like the sort who'd use them, too. But they paid us off, paid us to look the other way, paid us to forget. That's where I got this." He gestures feebly with his chin towards the silver coin Kaelen holds.

Kaelen's mind races, pulling together disparate, dangerous threads. A mysterious shipment, high security that even the notorious Viper's Coil defers to, and a hint of the forbidden Dread Wastes – a place whispered to hold the crumbling ruins of the Great Cataclysm. This is more than just a few crates of illicit goods. This is something important, something that smells of power and secrets the Imperium usually keeps locked away behind layers of lies and fear, the kind of secrets that could get you flayed and left for the crows.

"What was in the crates?" Kaelen presses, his voice taut with anticipation. The thought of something from the Cataclysm's aftermath sends a chill through him, deeper than the rain, the kind of chill that promises only trouble, and perhaps, a way out of this miserable existence.

Silas shakes his head, desperation in his eyes, a desperate hope for his worthless life shining through the fear. "I don't know, I swear by Khazael's bloody blade! They were sealed tight. Big, heavy things. And the guards... they weren't talking. Just glowering, their hands never far from their weapons. They look like the sort who'd use them, too. But they paid us off, paid us to look the other way, paid us to forget. That's where I got this." He gestures feebly with his chin towards the silver coin Kaelen holds.

He slowly withdraws his blade, and Silas sags against the wall, breathing heavily, a pathetic figure. "You're lucky, Silas. This time. But if I hear you've been spreading this around, or if I find out you've been lying to me..." Kaelen lets the threat hang in the rain-swept air, a promise of swift and brutal retribution Silas understands perfectly. Some promises, even from Kaelen, are absolute. And they rarely involve pleasantries.

Silas nods frantically, his face pale in the gloom. "No! Never! You have my word! My word is good, Kaelen, I swear it by the Imperator!"

Kaelen scoffs. Word is cheap in Veridian, cheaper than copper, cheaper than a life. But for now, Silas has served his purpose. He turns, melting back into the rain-swept darkness, leaving Silas to his fear and his single, ill-gotten silver coin.

A new lead. And in a city as bleak as Veridian, in an Imperium as suffocating as Aethelgard, a lead, no matter how dangerous, is the closest thing Kaelen has to hope.

[A.N]- This is a dungeon core story I made during my spare time.


First book in a trilogy with possible side stories. I will probably make more books off this one or continue if popular. It is a fantasy novel in the dungeon core genre, but it is not technically a LitRPG novel. (If you aren't sure what 'dungeon core' and 'LitRPG' are, don't stress - the book is a grimdark fantasy real-time tale of revenge, backstabbing, politics, war, conquest, cruel characters, an anti-hero, sociopathic plot twists, multiple protagotgonist (adventures protagonist might surprise you) major characters, mutiple povs, major events, grimdark hopelessness(that kinda reseble our world) etcs, If you're a LitRPG fan, you should know that this story is all secondary world, no stats, no adventures vs dungeon, no this is a grimdark wofld with scum noble, heartless mercerneries, sadistic killers, hopeless peasants, evil religion/cults, totalitarian goverments, tyranical rulers, souless monsters, outerworld entites trying to eat and mindcontrol, that will get dark and much worse with a dungeon veriant So it is very much a dungeon core story.