The Gene of the Ancients (Rogue Merchant Book #2): LitRPG Series Read online

  “Hmm, an Elven Scalemail...a rare find, even if in need of repair,” Abbot said, appraising it. “Oh, the bag’s nice, too. It ignores the weight. What’s inside, Flame?”

  Inside, there was a Scroll of Earthquake, elixirs of Emerald Spring and Star Tears, and a small statuette of a horse made from black onyx. Given that Star Tears were given out solely by elven kings, it was clear that the dead man was far from ordinary.

  “Flame, step away,” Olaf commanded. “Komtur, take a look at the sword.”

  As soon as the sword was pulled from the sheath even by an inch, it flashed orange, indicating legendary quality. Komtur, who was holding it in stretched hands, let out a dry laugh.

  “A Moonguard. Who would have thought...”

  “Incredible! Those blades are wielded only by the heads of elven houses!” Olaf exclaimed. “It’s a sentient weapon!”

  “Yes, it talks to me. It doesn’t want to recognize me as a wielder. I got an epic quest to return it to Im Enoi,” Komtur said with a nod and a wry smile. “What the hell’s going on today? A third legendary that we can’t use!”

  Upon that, he linked the Moonguard to the rain chat. When I saw its properties, I licked my lips, as did most Watchers.

  Moonguard.

  Of all the magic swords forged by the ancient elven blacksmiths, the Moonguards are the most highly priced. Each House has one such blade, except for those lost with their wielders. A Moonguard is passed on in the family and serves only one master.

  Quality: legendary. Material: mithril, dragonskin, ellurite.

  Personal. Sentient item.

  Damage: 150–300 (piercing, slashing)

  +13 Strength, +7 Charisma

  Elemental Rune: each hit deals 50-300 random elemental damage.

  Sentience: it is a sentient telepathic weapon possessing hearing and the knowledge of the First Speech.

  Darksight: grants darkvision ability.

  Deadly: ignores all physical resistances. Has a 10% chance of dealing a mortal blow with each hit.

  Slots: 1 (empty)

  Requirements: elf. Admiration with Im Enoi.

  “Well, not all is lost. Reputation with the elves can be farmed,” Olaf said. “And then, the quest should have a good reward.”

  According to the Watchers, the raid was extremely successful so far. A Lightning Stone, a Rikhar’s Heart, a Moonguard, two epic items from the succubi, the legendary scourge and the crown, plus, lots of epic and rare ingredients and other loot. I couldn’t estimate the price of the legendaries, but the rest was worth at least three hundred thousand, combined. Not bad for an eight hours’ job.

  The commanders decided to make a temporary camp right there, inside the rikhar’s nest. It stank like hell, but it was a hard-to-reach area with only one entrance. We quickly set up tents and pavilions and lit fires. Upon leaving Sphere, players disappeared, but getting killed by a crowd of waiting enemies upon relogin wasn’t exactly great. Guard shifts were a must.

  * * *

  Illith: I’m tired. You guys are dialing up frags, and I spy across the corner like an idiot.

  Tao: Only “like” an idiot? Ha-ha! Calm down. The PROJECT won’t forget you. It’s not so fun here either, just running around all the time.

  Illith: Have you kicked the asses of those Unity?

  Tao: Well, how shall I say... We would have, if we caught them. Those guys are real elusive. Mostly, they get on our nerves.

  Tao: What about the Watchers? Are you keeping an eye on them?

  Illith: They’ve passed the Crossroads, bumped into a wandering rikhar, and farmed it. Then they set up camp.

  Tao: A rikhar? I always knew those Watchers were natural born carebears. Continue watching. I’ll try to find a replacement for you tomorrow.

  * * *

  “Now we need to decide what to do with Cat. Show the crown again.”

  As I pulled out a thin jagged band from my backpack, it gave my fingers a sharp sting. I showed it to everyone, making Komtur whistle and Abel swear. Olaf’s face was still inscrutable.

  The Crown of the Mistress of the Wandering Succubate

  Quality: legendary. Material: gold, demonite, ellurite. Personal.

  Increases resistance to all types of magical and elemental damage by 70%.

  The Crown of the Queen: Wandering Succubate obeys all your commands without question.

  The Succubus Queen: increases reputation with all demonic factions to Respect.

  The Enemy of Light: decreases reputation with all factions of light to Hostile.

  Slots: 1 (Transformation Gem)

  Requirements: supreme demon, female, Leadership 800/1000, Strategy 500/1000, unlocked Faction Management 0/1000, Admired by Wandering Succubate.

  True owner: undefined

  100% chance of drop upon the death of the true owner.

  Yep, that crown was fun. The developers, or whoever it was instead of them, adapted the requirements in such a way that...

  “Bottom line is, this can only be worn by a female demon with high-level strategy skills,” Komtur expressed the mutual opinion. “And their reputation, too... Basically, this is Daine’s successor.”

  “We’re screwed,” Olaf said quietly. “HotCat, why did you kill her, anyway? Do you know that she’s the youngest daughter of Baalor, the demon lord and the ruler of the Fifth Pit of Hell?”

  “Who, Daine? How were you going to defeat her then?”

  “It’s simple. We are not the first to encounter the Wandering Succubate. The guides say that when you kill fifty percent of them, the others flee into the Abyss together with their mistress.”

  “What’s so bad about that, actually?” Abel asked. “So he killed her. Great!”

  “No. You don’t get it. This is the crown of an NPC faction. They cannot exist without it. They cannot exist without a ruler.”

  “So?”

  “In less than a day, when the Succubate revives at their home spot, they will direct all their efforts to reclaiming the crown. Do you understand me? All their efforts. They will chase the player with their crown, and seeing as these demons can open their own portals, you cannot hide from them. Basically, I don’t envy HotCat.”

  “We could hide in the clan warehouse or put it up for sale at the auction,” Komtur offered.

  “Are you joking? Those enemies are really nasty. Do you want to wake up the clan in the middle of the night to defend Condor from a demon army? Keep in mind that the Succubate will do anything to retrieve the crown, including deals with more powerful creatures. I’ve read about such cases. It’s better to avoid risks.”

  “So what are you offering?”

  “I don’t know, really. Maybe return it to them as soon as possible? Items like that are no laughing matter. Those gameplay mechanics are seriously ruthless.”

  “What if we just throw it away, leaving it somewhere in the Paths?” Abel asked. “If it draws them near, they will find it.”

  “They will, and then they’ll follow our steps to take their revenge,” Olaf nodded. “I don’t think farming Helt Akor with a demonic faction on our tail will be a walk in the park.”

  “What about the scourge and the blood of a supreme demon?”

  “The scourge as well. And why’d we need it anyway? It could only be wielded by the faction leader. We can’t use it or sell it. As for the blood...it’s none of your business.”

  “I don’t think they’ll get to the crown if we, say, put it inside a safety deposit box at the Golden Hamster at the Bazaar,” I said. “Or auction it off.”

  Olaf considered my words, then slowly shook his head.

  “That’s true, they won’t. But they’ll go out of their way to try — they don’t have a choice! Still, pitting two different scripts against each other...I wouldn’t do it. The results could be unpredictable. I don’t think the Golden Hamster will be grateful for such a “gift.” If nothing else, you’ll lose reputation.”

  “Maybe we could try selling it directly? Cat’s a trader, he coul
d try,” Abel offered.

  “He’s Hated by them!” Olaf chuckled. “At this level of reputation, NPCs don’t even talk to you. They attack you on sight. We can’t sell it to them, maybe only via a broker...”

  I smiled wryly. Olaf glared at me — and realized everything. He had seen my profile.

  A passive ability of Free Merchant, my archetype, said, Non Olet Pecunia: You can trade with all creatures, no matter the relationship between your factions.

  “Our Cat’s a Free Merchant,” the analyst said slowly. “I think it’s a solution. HotCat, you’ll have to work in your field.”

  With a smirk, I nodded back. I had always dreamed of duping a demon!

  * * *

  I was sitting alone by the fire, thinking while watching it burn. I glanced at my reward for the unique achievement: the ability called “Ascetic” increased resistance to mind magic by 30% and gave immunity to mind control, such as Charm and Seduction. A useful thing, especially since it couldn’t be taken away, unlike equipment. Slowly but steadily, I was growing up.

  Someone coughed on the other side of the campfire. Lost in thoughts, I hadn’t noticed another person sit down. After raising my eyes, I saw a figure wrapped in a brown hooded cloak. I couldn’t make out the face, but the stranger clearly wasn’t a Watcher. I squeezed the silver grip of Aelmaris, preparing to raise the alarm.

  “Don’t fret, Cat,” the stranger suggested, reaching out to the fire. His fingers were long and slender, like a musician’s or an artist’s.

  “Who are you?”

  “What, you haven’t recognized me? How about now?” He shifted and held out his hand, as if asking for alms, and I saw him smirk under his hood.

  “I have,” I said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “You’ve made the wrong turn. Come back to the Crossroads. Start it up and follow the Sin-Da thread.”

  “I don’t get it. Start it up?”

  “Yes. The thing you call Crossroads is a Lee-Nar, a node in the web used by the Ancients to travel. Awaken it,” Tormis was speaking in a calm and patient manner. “And then, you’ll be able to transport to anywhere in Helt Akor.”

  “But how?”

  “Oh Cat, don’t make me think I was wrong about you. You were chosen for a reason. You have their blood. You can awaken the dormant threads of Lee-Nar.”

  “I don’t have a clue how to do it,” I said. “Be clearer!”

  “Be clearer...” the man sitting across of me chuckled. “Each word I say is a stone falling on the scale of Balance. You must do everything by yourself. Remember the Tombs of Necromancers! And know: if you help me, I will help you in turn.”

  “But — “ I tried to ask him, but the flat stone was empty. Tormis had disappeared as abruptly as he had arrived.

  “See you,” I muttered at the empty space. Yeah, what a turn. So what was my schedule for tomorrow? Cheat the demons, awaken the Ancients, follow the Sin-Da thread? I really needed a good night’s sleep.

  Chapter 21

  THE NEXT MORNING, the Watchers Council held a meeting in Komtur’s tent. Four Keepers were there, plus Abbot as the raid leader.

  “So here’s the thing, HotCat suggested we change the route,” Olaf announced the subject of the discussion. “We have to return to the Crossroads.”

  “We have to? What the hell?” Abbot exploded. “Who does he think he is? He’s a trader, so let him steal, err, trade! Leading raids is our job, not his! I’m sick and tired of it. Are you kidding me? First, he foists himself onto the raid and now he’s going to order us about?”

  “Calm down, man,” Abel said. “Actually, Cat killed a powerful boss.”

  “Yeah, and gave us a whole slew of problems with the crown!”

  “Cut the small talk,” Komtur said, clapping his hand against his knee. “Olaf, why should we return? I thought you planned the route yourselves.”

  “Yes. But Cat says he was visited by Tormis, the God of Shadows. Have you heard of that guy? He told us to return and activate the Crossroads. I quote, ‘You made a wrong turn. Awaken the Lee-Nar. Follow the Sin-Da thread.’“

  “What a riot,” Komtur replied, scratching his head pensively. “Tormis? The two crooks found a common ground? Honestly, I’m not really surprised. Does Cat have his quest?”

  “He’s not talking, but I think he does.”

  “Remember, HotCat has the Ancient Gene,” Abel added. “If I’m not mistaken, you ordered us to look for such players for the clan.”

  “Yes, and that’s why I suggest we double back. It’s an opportunity! A player with the Gene might trigger the Ancients’ mechanisms. The Crossroads is rumored to be more than just a landmark, but a portal. Something like a lift allowing players to fast travel across Helt Akor.”

  “Don’t forget that we haven’t prepared for clearing out Ancient spots,” Abbot said. “They have their own thing going on.”

  “We have nothing to lose. Missing such an opportunity would be foolish,” Komtur concluded. “Let’s go back, then. Madness knows no distance.”

  * * *

  The way back didn’t take long. The scouts reported that the Crossroads was clear. Once again we entered the enormous domes of the round hall lit by dim yellow light. Awaken the heart of Lee-Nar, follow the Sin-Da thread? How exactly? Everything there was dead and umoving.

  “If something’s hidden here, we’ll find it,” Abel promised. “We’ll check every inch with Perception and Find Treasure.”

  “Only a player with Ancient Gene can activate the Ancients’ devices,” Olaf said anxiously. “I fear we might trigger a trap.”

  “I’m a veteran tomb raider, Prophet,” Abel said, his feathers ruffed. “Detect Traps, Disarm...everything will be fine!”

  Four scouts started slowly searching the hall, walking along its perimeter. Going by their speed, I expected that to take at least a couple of hours. Everything was fine, but something seemed off. Thousands of raids had visited the Crossroads. They must have explored it a lot of times, and I couldn’t believe that none of them had the Ancient Gene. Players who professionally farmed the Ancient spots probably knew the secret — but never shared it.

  I paused to think, replaying Tormis’ words in my head, and then flinched. The god had given me the key, after all. He said, remember the Tombs of Necromancers. So what had happened there?

  I recalled the memory. After putting on the ring with the “See Unseen” ability, I saw a key that nobody else could see even if they wore the ring. Maybe a similar principle was at work in the Crossroads? I didn’t have that ring with me, it was lying in a chest back in Eyre, but I could find a replacement.

  Having made up my mind, I approached our air mage, a golden-haired beauty called Nirvana. She was resting next to other Watchers.

  “Hey, could you cast See Unseen on me?” I asked her. “Do you have that spell?”

  “I do. Why’d you need it, though?” the girl asked, curious.

  “Just wanna test a theory...”

  “Cat, forget it, take a break,” her friend, Tooth, recommended to me. He was a burly guy with a powerful build who had the rare archetype “Barbarian.” “Abel’s a pro. If something’s hidden here, they’ll find it.”

  But I insisted and got the buff. Abel might have been a professional seeker, but I was the only one with the Ancient Gene in the raid.

  I marked the spot where the scouts had started and followed their trail, carefully inspecting the smooth walls covered with repeating pattern. The art of the Ancients rubbed me the wrong way — bizarre pictures of intertwined human and animal bodies, mouths agape, maws, eyes, handprints. Those images felt inhumanely detailed, obsessively correct down to each stroke. Looking at it for too long made my head hurt, and I started hearing a distant sorrowful dirge. I wouldn’t want to meet the painters. They clearly weren’t what I would call nice guys.

  A blue light flashed in the corner of my eye. Had I imagined it? I shook my head, clearing my vision. After looking at those patterns for half an hour
one could start seeing things. However, it was real. I walked toward the light, which was fifty yards away from me, at a brisk pace, almost breaking into a run.

  It was an imprint of a hand with five outspread fingers, as if it was pressed from the other side of the wall. It had a thin blue outline, just like that key in the Tombs. So my guess was correct? Only a player with an Ancient Gene under the effect of “See Unseen” could see the secret messages of the Ancients? It explained why nobody had ever activated the Crossroads. Few players possessed the Gene, and such a combination lowered the chance of discovery even more. Still, someone must have solved that riddle, or artifacts from the Ancients’ caches wouldn’t appear at the auction on a regular basis.