Battle for the North (Rogue Merchant Book #4): LitRPG Series by Roman Prokofiev (best beach reads of all time .txt) 📗

Less than thirty minutes were left until the attack. Players were putting heavy magic cannons behind the battlements on the towers and walls, adding them to those already installed. Cages with scaled monsters raging inside were raised from the castle dungeons via wells. Scrolls, elixirs, and consumables were distributed from the clan storages, no expense spared. There was no point in preserving resources anymore; the castle could fall anytime soon. Muffled chanting reached us from the main tower of Dark, a four-sided black spire, its narrow slits glowing bright red.

“They’re summoning Lot, my brother,” a familiar voice murmured right next to me. I turned around, but the Watchers around me were silent, and nobody was there. However, in the Shadow Plane, I saw a transforming figure surrounded by a swirling retinue. Tormis! What an unexpected visit. He stood next to me, silent.

“And will he come?” I asked him quietly. “Can you help us, too?”

Tormis said nothing and then stepped closer, looking me in the eye. Seeing my god in the Shadow really emphasized that he was far from benevolent. His face kept changing every second: the Beggar, the Messenger, the Thief — all those transformations underlined how alien he was to the world of humans.

“I am already helping you... You can’t win through force of arms,” he warned me. “But there is a chance, as long as you use it right. You can — if you want to.”

The god transformed once again, assuming the shape of a character I knew and giving me another hint at the essence of his words. Finally, I realized what he meant.

“Hey Cat, were you asking something?” Flame gave me a poke. For a second, I was distracted, and when I turned back, Tormis was already gone. At the same time, the scarlet glow from the windows of the main tower grew stronger, evolving into an aura around the entire citadel. It expanded, engulfing us in a matter of seconds and stopping only upon reaching the outer walls.

You receive the blessing of Lot, the God of War and Blood!

Your Hope was increased by 5! Your physical damage was increased by 20%!

You are under the effect of Lot’s Touch! Max stamina increased by 100%. Stamina regeneration increased by 100%.

You are under the effect of Blood Rage! HP regeneration increased by 50%. You are immune to Bleeding, Stun, Blind, and Daze.

Duration: 12 hours.

Wow, the prayer got us a nice divine buff! Lot, whom Tormis had called a brother, was also a part of the Shadow Pantheon and was considered the best warrior of all the gods. We could use his help, but counting on his coming without a good reason was pointless. Gods rarely meddled in the squabbles between players, afraid that the Balance would retaliate. Ananizarte was the only loose cannon.

The scarlet aura continued to grow stronger, turning into an almost tangible red fog hiding the outlines of the main tower. Weird shapes of unknown creatures formed from translucent crimson liquid that resembled tiny drops of blood. Fascinated, we saw giant scarlet birds take shape and start slowly circling the citadel. They had purple-colored titles, indicating epic rank, and each was the size of a flying frigate.

“Blood hawks!” I heard the players cry out. A cursory search informed me that these birds were a gift from Lot, his pets — an extremely dangerous legendary-level summoning spell. The entire history of Sphere knew only three such castings, and each of them led to disastrous consequences and a grandiose forum drama. Yes, the day was going to be fun.

It was the fourth big battle in several hours. Maybe players still had their post-death debuffs. Small skirmishes persisted across the entire front. Pandas were trying to secure the occupied provinces, and our strike teams kept them from rebuilding. Kills and deaths were constantly linked in the alliance chat, even if the siege hadn’t started yet. This battle would decide the fate of the Northerners’ southwestern holdings. If we lost the castle, we would lose the respawn point and the portal, not to mention the provinces and the territorial influence, making retaliating much harder. Most likely, the entire region would fall, as the enemy would take down the remaining outposts in a couple of days.

“Maybe they won’t come?” Nico said hopefully when the timer was counting the last minute, and our scouts were still silent. Fat chance. Of course, they would come — they would just be late. That said, there was no point in hurrying; the invincibility window was six hours, enough time to unnerve the enemy. After all, waiting was the worst part.

Pandorum had mastered the art of psychological warfare. We pulled ourselves into pieces worrying and renewing the buffs. Only an hour later, the scouts finally livened up, and the Courier channel exploded with reports. Familiar vortexes of Astral Portals flared up around the castle, and the horizon turned dark with a swarm of riders flying from the continent. The Pandas came in the same lineup: a strike force of three hundred airships and several thousand vassal players. It was an indomitable armada that was only missing four juggernauts for good measure, as our enemies bid their time taking them to battle.

The astral fleet surrounded the castle from all sides, forming something like a sphere around it. Hundreds of ships pulled closer, preparing to fire, while fortress cannons turned to meet them, and Blood Hawks rushed to intercept.

So what can I tell about that battle? How volleys of arrows tipped in dragon venom mowed down the enemy birds, their waves pouring over the castle walls? How the defenders hacked and slashed their opponents, keeping them away from the inner sanctum? How blazing astral ships fell into the sea, crashing against the foothills? How towers crumbled, stones burned, and cracks ran down the century-old stonework, unable to withstand the fury of a thousand spells? How a host