The Gene of the Ancients (Rogue Merchant Book #2): LitRPG Series by Roman Prokofiev (ebook reader for comics .TXT) 📗

from inside the smoke, screaming wildly. They were Daigor armigers, I recognized the lion on their triangular shields and their striped red-and-black cloaks. It is during fights such as this, when a bearded brute with a drawn sword comes down at you, that you realize the true beauty of total immersion. Like a snake shedding its skin, the world around you comes out of its shell, and soon, there is no Earth, no twenty-first century, only you against the enemy. Adrenaline starts pumping through your veins, and you sense the pleasant weight of your weapon in your hand, just like your forgotten ancestor back in the Middle Ages when going into battle. That’s why Sphere was so addictive and why anyone hooked on it would never get off that needle — because, in moments such as this, the world seemed more than just real.

When the first soldier attacked me, I countered with a burning strike of Aelmaris. My opponent’s weapon disappeared in a bright flash. I reached the shocked armiger with a long lunge forward, and he transformed in a cloud of smoke, ash, and pieces of equipment falling on the ground.

Souls eaten: +1!

 

I saw a line in the log and checked the counter in the sword’s stat block — now it had 19. I had earned the previous eighteen during the battle at the Old Crossroads, rescuing the young Err of Dan-na-Eyre from his plight.

“Cat, finish him!” Dimonicus shouted from the right, stepping back so I could access a stunned NPC writhing on the ground.

Souls eaten: +1!

 

The five of us went around the keep. The Watchers lured NPCs to me, and I one-shotted everybody without even wasting the Fiery Lightnings. It felt like cheating, as easy as taking candy from a baby.

The only problems arose inside the keep, the fort’s central fortification. Turned out that the Daigorians had managed to hire a Guardian, a rank 4 NPC. That lord, together with his retinue, had barricaded themselves in the keep’s main hall and even sent a few overly careless players to the resp point. Such a lord was a tough nut, and cracking him single-handedly was impossible. I remembered seeing the Eyrian lord general Laort, an NPC of the same rank, easily fight off three pro players at the tiltyard. Such NPCs had off-the-scale Strength and inhuman reflexes. I still couldn’t quite figure out how Tao had managed to kill the Err, who was even more powerful, without any help, but that was Tao...

We had an ace commander, Balian the Raccoon. Upon encountering resistance, the raid regrouped, and the tactics changed. Melee fighters didn’t matter here; it was time for magic, scrolls, and ranged damage. I was kept in the middle and protected, which is why I didn’t get to see the details — only hear fireballs exploding and the Great Lightnings thundering around. They picked off the knights one by one and knocked the Guardian on the stone floor, snaring him with nets. The hulk, clad in magic armor, tore them with his hands, refusing to stay down, and tried raising his serrated two-handed sword.

“HotCat! Come on!”

My flaming blade cut through his armor like a knife through butter. A flash, a sigh, and the Keeper crumbled in a cloud of grey ash.

“How many?”

“Eighty-nine!” I replied, frowning.

The raid leader commanded the others to clear out the remaining NPCs, leaving them for me to finish off. The situation grew more distasteful with each minute. I was no angel, but killing defenseless NPCs with a fiery sword brought me no pleasure. It was no battle, more like a travesty. After all, Sphere’s NPCs felt almost like living people, and I wanted no part of being a butcher. Two Watchers were holding the latest bloody victim, waiting for me, and suddenly it dawned upon me — right now, I was no different from the Pandas in invaded Eyre, killing slaves in the square. That thought ruined my mood for good.

Souls eaten: +1!

 

Attention: you have eaten 100 souls!

 

Rare achievement unlocked: Soul Eater! You received a free attribute point! (Unspent points: 6)

 

You received 10,000 XP!

 

Current XP: 66102/150000

 

Attention: your reputation with all NPC factions decreased by 5%!

 

After those lines appeared in the log, I decided that was enough for today. Faction reputation was much harder to earn compared to personal one — pretty much only by handing over special items (different for each faction) and faction quests. A five-percent decrease meant that I was now disliked by previously neutral NPCs. Thanks to my rescue of the Err, I was Revered by Eyrians, but I hadn’t even seen most of the other factions yet! That sucked.

Somebody put their hand on my shoulder. It was Olaf. With his fair hair and light beard, he looked like an intelligent Viking, only lacking the requisite wire-rim glasses. He hadn’t even drawn his sword once, sticking to commanding the battle, but his gleaming armor was splattered with blood.

“Let’s go. There are more NPCs there.”

“It’s done. I have a hundred,” I replied, sheathing the sword.

“More souls, more profit from the Pandas,” Olaf insisted. “Let’s farm more of them while we have a chance; it could come in handy later.”

“Listen, Olaf!” I said, my blood starting to boil. I was fed up with the pesky analyst and his nagging. It sure looked like he saw me as nothing more than a walking appendage to the miracle sword that had its own opinion — the wrong one.

“Listen, Olaf! I just lost five percent of reputation with ALL Sphere’s factions, and who knows what might follow! Or do you think I should totally ruin my character’s rep for the good of the clan?”

“That’s exactly what I think,” the Prophet answered calmly. “In terms of clan development, it’s the correct decision. Each of us should... Anyway, if you don’t agree, you