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

section of the official forum and started a topic about selling ten sets of that armor. Anybody could buy it and didn’t need to farm the tokens. Limited offer. The price was five thousand — considering the current price of tokens, it was just a bit above the cost of production.

Then I went to bed.

In the morning, my topic was ten pages long, full of trolling and scamming accusations. The experts inquired how exactly I was going to transfer personal items, what was the point if the cost was the exact five thousand, and where had I managed to obtain enough tokens for ten sets in less than a month of the war. In general, the locals agreed that I was trying to cheat newbies and had no sets or tokens to speak of in the first place. Actually, they said, I was a newbie, too, as I had only been playing Sphere for two months.

Okay. I wrote another message, saying that I would transfer items by selling the requisite amount of tokens that day at 5 PM New Tokyo time on the Eyre marketplace. You give me five thousand, I give you the tokens; then you exchange them for the set you need at the NPC. To confirm my words, I added a screenshot of my inventory with lots of faction tags. The trolls, of course, would say that the image was fake, but to hell with them. My target audience would see that, and my goal was to build up hype.

As soon as I logged into Sphere, I started getting heaps of personal messages. Mostly, people were asking if I had told the truth; I said that I had and invited them to come and see. I was also contacted by Bara Norkins, one of the leaders of Sworn Brothers — the only clan of Northern Alliance to take part in the faction war. She softly chided me for not telling them about that earlier, as they would have taken everything without any hassle. I promised to sell her two sets for the declared price of five thousand in exchange for defending me during the show. The only risk was being attacked by stray PKers, considering the ton of tags I would have with me. Bara happily agreed.

At the appointed time, three or four dozen potential buyers were assembled in the marketplace. With some surprise, I saw not just local players, but even some residents from other worlds. It meant that I had done everything correctly: my offer had piqued their interest.

I sold the first five sets at the posted price, quickly giving out the tags via contracts, and the players went to castle NPC vendors, only to return dressed in their newly obtained sets. They were met with jealous looks, as there were way more buyers than sets. The emotions were running high, and players started arguing about the order of precedence, while some offered to draw lots.

“Lots? Screw that!” barked a red-haired dwarf, his beard plaited in two braids, as he elbowed his way to the front of the queue. “I didn’t come all the way here to leave empty-handed! I’ll pay six thousand for the set!”

“I had to use a Teleportation Scroll to get here!” a player in a black surcoat with a red star backed him up. “Six thousand five hundred!”

“Six thousand eight hundred! “Six thousand nine hundred!”

I could barely suppress a grin before seizing control over the spontaneous auction. But was it truly spontaneous? Flame, Panther, and Valkyrie played their roles all too well, goading the crowd and egging them on.

I announced that there would be no drawing lots. I didn’t expect such an influx of buyers, so sorry guys, I’ll have to auction off the remaining five sets. Only those with the best offers would get the items, period! It’s not my fault there’s so many of you and so few tags. C’est la vie!

It was a real shit storm. Still, I stuck to my guns, the Sworn Brothers flexed their muscles in a pointed manner while glancing at those who seemed especially worked up, so it didn’t go any further. The players were indignant. Some left, but my assumption proved correct: after traveling such a long way and seeing the lucky bastards who had snatched new epic gear, the majority didn’t want to leave without buying anything...or at least without trying to haggle.

The final set was sold at twenty-three thousand and a half. In total, I earned one hundred and seven thousand gold, with a profit of more than fifty thousand — and that’s in just two hours. That was pretty good; more than several times as much as I had gotten for my arrows con. However, this operation, which I had tentatively called “Auction,” had warranted the month-long preparations and a lot of effort to buy the tokens, so comparing them wasn’t right. Here, it was the result of a long con that had finally borne fruit.

I breathed out in relief. I had a hundred and ten thousand gold in my accounts — a pretty tidy sum that equaled about eleven thousand terro in real money, enough to last me three or four months, especially since I wasn’t going to stop at that. To play in the big leagues, I needed, according to rough estimates, about half a million gold.

The funniest thing, however, happened later, when I left the marketplace and headed toward Karn’s inn, having already emptied my purse at the bank.

A beggar was sitting on the roadside, his back against the wall, a big clay bowl with dented edges standing at his feet. Inside, I could see a scant few copper pieces. The beggar’s face was hidden under a ragged hood. I wouldn’t have paid him any attention — paupers were a common sight in Eyre — if he didn’t applaud me as I passed by. I looked him up and down