Shadow Seer (Rogue Merchant Book #3): LitRPG Series by Roman Prokofiev (english reading book TXT) 📗

The Hirdmen stopped dying, but Watchers started to: several icons in the raid faded at once. The growing divine avatar crashed its spectral hammer against the ground, and the blinding flash made the floor shake as a short-range Earthquake knocked all of us down. The Watchers and Hird clashed against each other, transforming the battle into a chaotic free-for-all where the one left standing would win. But the enemies had a huge advantage—the invincibility granted by the divine aura. The avatar of Throgg started raising its hammer once again, and I saw arrows and spears go through the incorporeal projection, not dealing it any damage. I had no idea how to fight this thing or how to beat it.

“Throgg! Throgg! Throgg!” the Hirdmen cried out in a frenzy.

The hilt of Aelmaris found my hand. That chance encounter threatened my entire operation. A loss was unacceptable! I pointed my blade at the enemy, preparing to fire a Bolid after emerging from the Shadow, and then lowered it. Too dangerous. I was too close to the elevator, and True Fire was merciless, destroying everything in its path. It could easily damage the artifact mechanisms of the Crossroads.

Komtur: Kill! Kill the [censored] of these [censored], or we won’t make it! Damage it, everyone! Abel, Inker, Fanboy—try it!

 

Olaf: We can’t do it while it’s invincible. We need to interrupt the ritual!

 

Abel: Got it! Mark the priest. MARK HIM, I SAID! Or link the nickname!

 

Olaf: Mark up. Oh, this is Dar, our old friend!

 

The next second, I saw a new player appear in the Shadow Plane. I recognized Abel only by his small stature and dual daggers—that’s how quickly he moved. Those were the moves of a true master! The hobbit burst into the thick of battle and emerged from the Shadow right behind the warriors of Hird, hiding behind their bodies so nobody could see him. I managed to notice him leaping like a tiger and dealing a furious blow accompanied by the howling of the Hirdmen.

Throgg’s spectral projection flickered and disappeared. I lost sight of the hobbit in the midst of our enemies, and his icon went dark. Still, he had fulfilled his mission, and the blue glow of invincibility wasn’t protecting the Hird anymore.

Komtur: Gotcha! Kill the supports, guys! Summon the pawns! Melees, stop running around like headless chickens! Interrupt the targets, [censored]! Healers, step back, max range. The others, assist me. Mark’s up on the first target. Mark’s up on the second target. Work, [censored]!

 

Truly, raid leaders were something else. How could Komtur see anything in that complete chaos of battle, not to mention carry out maneuvers? However, it worked: our raid began working together like clockwork, quickly taking down enemy players. Hird, on the other hand, had lost one of their commanders and started coming apart, one player dying after another. I used the opportunity to exit the Shadow, heal myself with potions, and take my place in the battle formation. Apparently, I wouldn’t need the Bolide.

A few minutes later, more than half of the Hirdmen were down. After losing their healers, our enemies finally gave out, and soon, we finished off the last of them. Without their invincibility and supports, they turned out to be easy prey. As they fell, most of them typed “GF” into the chat, congratulating us for the victory.

Komtur: Great job. Great job, everyone! That was a beautiful win! And now, loot!

 

The best part of winning a battle was looting the fallen enemies. The clan leader immediately warned us that all dropped epics and above had to be offered to their former wielders for buyback—such was the code of honor. Of course, it only applied to fair fights. The unwritten rule of Sphere: nobody was immune to death; one day, you were bound to get looted as well.

Olaf: They’re packed with loot. Great luck; we might as well go back.

 

Komtur: Indeed. They’re sending me Good Fights via PM. Offering to buy everything back.

 

Olaf: Say yes. No need to sour our relations with Hird.

 

Komtur: They’re also asking not to tell everyone about the elevator.

 

Olaf: Now, that’s an interesting topic. Add me to the chat.

 

* * *

In Sphere, all items and buildings had durability and could be destroyed in one way or another. I was afraid that multiple spells used during the battle might have damaged the Crossroads’ mechanisms, but fortunately, everything was still working. The Ancients had done a bang-up job with their construction, or maybe the Crossroads were indestructible in the first place. In any event, the egg-shaped elevator appeared as soon as I put my hand against the call button.

“Sin-da” was the code of the Crossroads we needed. The icons flashed blue like elevator buttons, preparing to send us to the mysterious depths of Helt Akor. The bearded Jordi swore under their breath, holding each other—I had preemptively cast Mass Blind on them. That said, they had seen the arrival of the Hird, anyway...

As Olaf glanced at the miners, he asked me in a low voice, “I still don’t understand—why do you need them? How are you going to get ellurite out of here? It’s not like you can carry it in your inventory. We don’t know any designations of other Crossroads. We can’t even return here!”

“What if we make a wild guess?” I asked.

“More than five hundred icons. Can you imagine how many combinations there are? On top of that, my theory’s that the number of icons depends on how many threads connect the Crossroads. There are two exits to the Crossroads where we’re headed, and the cipher has two icons. Coincidence? I think not.”

“What about the Layers? The third, the seventh?” I replied, confused.

“You shouldn’t think about Helt Akor as a classic dungeon going deeper,” Olaf said, shaking his head. “It’s more akin to a three-dimensional web that runs through the whole of Sphere, where