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

nodding in response to my silent question. “Not many, but still. All of you are able to contact each other instantly across any distance. Often, if one of you learns something, the rest of the players know it as well. It’s strange that this map is still secret.”

So it wasn’t unique? I wouldn’t be surprised if most of it had been mapped by players manipulated by Tormis. Actually, I wouldn’t even be surprised if he had given fragments like this one to other clans exploring Helt Akor to motivate them to look for his temple.

“You also promised me your help. Do you remember?”

Tormis laughed, the sound rippling around us. Apparently, my boldness was to his taste.

“You’re a real cocky bastard, Cat! Few would dare to speak up. Still, it doesn’t befit a god to refuse his words. What kind of help do you need?”

“Dagorrath. I want to read the Isle of Madness.”

“That is a bad place,” Tormis said, frowning. “A very bad place. That world is sealed, Cat, and for a good reason. Many things are slumbering there—things that should never walk in the light. The laws governing it are different from the ones in Sphere. The road there is closed to us.”

“Yes, I know,” I replied. “But I’ve heard that it can be reached from the Seventh Layer through something called the Arch.

“The Arch? All right, then. Hold on!”

Actually, I hadn’t planned on traveling there right away. Despite the Magister’s urging, I kept putting off the search for Svechkin, the second developer of Sphere. However, Tormis was either tired of fussing around with me or in a hurry to finish dealing with his debts and go about his business—or maybe all of that put together. In short, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into the Shadow Plane. Spectral wings hoisted me upward as the god transformed into a giant winged shade that carried me through the grey realm. I didn’t get the chance to object or get scared.

The mad flight seemingly lasted no more than several seconds—or minutes, according to the system clock. Giant dark shapes flashed past us, and something moved in the colorless haze below. A quick plunge, the feeling of land beneath my feet, and a sharp jolt pushed me out of the Shadow. Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed a winged shadow flying away at breakneck speed.

So where was I? It was the Arch—supposedly, one of the three NPC settlements known to players. I looked around, adjusting my eyes to a strange bluish twilight. The dim illumination spread from above, its source unclear.

It was a truly remarkable place: a giant cave no smaller than the one I had just come from, if not bigger. I could see a luminescent arched dome and distant stone walls drowning in mist. Stalactites and stalagmites had fused with each other to create numerous perforated pillars of giant size. Most of them had been worked on, featuring spiral staircases and round entrances. When I looked closer, I realized that the pillars were empty inside, transformed into houses.

The bulk of the cave was flooded, and black water glistened not far from where I was standing, fog swirling above its surface. The reek of staleness and rotting weed tickled my nose. Around me was a rocky island that served as a foundation for a group of the most “habitable” pillars in the middle of the cave. Was that the Arch? It was quiet and empty, with not a soul around.

I pulled my hood up and headed to the nearest pillar dwelling, quickly finding something that resembled a street between the rows of stalagmites.

It was an odd place with even odder architecture. There were no straight lines, no rectangles or square angles; walls, doors, and windows, even the stairs, were round or oval, melted, smooth, or wave-shaped. I didn’t see any ornaments or decorations: no needless luxury or glitz. In truth, they were pretty rough. Not a soul was in sight as if the locals had all died or gone somewhere.

I didn’t have a map of that place or any details about its inhabitants. All information about it came in snippets, as only the players of several Asian clans had access there—and as usual, they were tight-lipped. I only knew that somewhere in the vicinity of the Arch was an underwater channel leading to Dagorrath.

The first local I met emerged from behind the corner, completely out of the blue. Going by her figure, it was a slender young girl dressed in form-fitting dark green clothes. She recoiled, startled, and a long white dagger flashed in her hand. Was it made from bone? A greenish noseless face with huge yellow eyes looked at me. Apparently, what I had mistaken for clothes turned out to be scales, and the girl—at least, I thought she was a girl because of her clearly female attributes—hissed like a cat. A slit tongue lashed out from her fanged maw. I had seen people like that. She was one of the serpentfolk, evil humanoids able to shapeshift.

An NPC with a yellow nickname and low karma, her name was T’hess from the Stalagmites.

I put out my hands, showing that I was unarmed, and spoke up, trying to be as friendly as possible.

“Don’t be scared! I won’t attack.”

“Who are you? What do you want? Don’t come clossser, ssstranger!” T’hess hissed furiously. The blade of her dagger was cut out of a translucent bone, timeworn but still razor-sharp.

“I’m new here. I’m looking for an inn, a place where players meet.”

Not bothering to turn around, the girl pointed at one of the pillars—the one in the center, bigger than the rest and studded with exit holes like a piece of Swiss cheese.

I carefully walked around the still-hissing, wary serpentgirl. Thankfully, the hood hid my nickname and status. The local NPC faction was clearly evil-aligned and wouldn’t