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

“HotCat!”

Crap, it was my turn. A few hands at once poked at my back, pushing me to come out. Balian and Hermione, who was standing next to him, were smiling.

I stepped forward. Once again, Komtur activated the random match mechanism, and in ten seconds, I saw the name of my opponent.

Khaman.

The audience gasped, and smiles vanished from the faces of my trainers.

Luck wasn’t on my side. Shivers ran down my spine, and I felt a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. Honestly, I had hoped to get somebody weaker than him. Khaman, a quiet giant, was a master of the two-handed sword and one of the oldest and seasoned warriors of the Watchers. He was a real rock; once, he had tutored our instructors just like they had done to us. Against him, I didn’t stand a chance in any type of combat. The worst thing was, he was a man of principle and would never go easy on me. Well, whatever. The Watchers would have to make do without a merchant, and I would have to live without access to the clan resources.

Khaman nodded at Olaf, who was whispering something in his ear, and slowly descended to change into no-stats leather armor. He stopped at the equipment stand, reviewing its contents — polished swords, spears, and halberds. Duelists could pick any one- or two-handed weapon. He lingered and finally chose a plain wooden stick, a six-feet pole, the simplest and most primitive weapon available.

What was he doing, giving me a head start? Showing that even a stick would be enough to kick the ass of a wanker like me?

Well, it couldn’t be helped. In turn, I grabbed a round wooden shield and a one-handed war axe. The blade — curved like a hawk’s beak — gleamed viciously. An axe was harder to handle compared to a sword, but its hits couldn’t be blocked and parried with a stick — it would break, its durability gone. Khaman would have to dodge and evade my blows. As for the shield...well, it would make defending myself against a much stronger opponent easier.

Fighting in Sphere was a simplified pseudo-historical fencing, a hyper-realistic simulator of medieval warfare. If characters were wearing the same gear and weapons, it was a battle of skill and speed, and even level didn’t play a key role.

We stepped into the center of the arena opposite one another. Khaman’s face was close. He had a careless smile on his face, and suddenly, he winked at me.

Khaman (Watchers) challenges you to a duel! Yes/No

5..4..3..2..1!

The duel begins!

Khaman’s stick shot forward, aimed at my face, and with a dry crunching bounced aside, repelled with the edge of my shield. That was fast; I barely managed to do that! The Watcher, utilizing his weapon’s higher speed, started pressuring me back, checking my reaction with a series of attacks, both feints and the real deal. Good thing I brought a shield; if not for it, Khaman would have crushed me right off the bat.

He was too close to me, so I used Shield Bash and immediately charged forward, trying to reach my enemy with a quick sideways slash.

It was a trap. Khaman exposed himself, baiting me. My blow fell wide of the mark, and his pole struck my knees, mercilessly knocking me down. The first thing I did after hitting the ground was to raise my shield, protecting myself from a blow from above, but pain once again stung my shoulder. A third of my hit points bar was gone with the wind, and my shield lost twenty percent of its durability. I couldn’t keep this up.

Finally, fleeing his grasp, I scrambled to my feet. Khaman was in no hurry. He was circling me, having lowered his stick, and beckoned to me with a half-bent palm.

Rage started to consume me. I couldn’t see the audience anymore. My view narrowed down to a small patch of the arena, where it was just me — and my enemy.

“Do you know what your problem is, Cat?” said Hawk, once again helping me to my feet. “It’s not that you fight poorly. You fight conventionally — a block, a blow, a feint... Only newbies buy such techniques. Players who live in the arena can see right through it. You won’t defeat them with this stuff! Relax! Think outside the box! Dance, feel the combat rhythm! Let the sword lead you! Surprise the enemy!”

I knew that Khaman was waiting for my attack, but lunged at him anyway, raising and lowering my shield, trying to confuse him with a series of feints. Following Hawk’s advice, I surrendered myself to the song of my sword, allowing it to control me. No calculations, no proper maneuvering: only forward! Each and every strike would become the final one for Khaman if I was able to reach him.

The swooshing of iron, the crisscrossing blows... My enemy spun around, my blade cutting the air. Don’t let him rest; keep pushing! That’s it! Come on! A feint, another one, a whirlwind attack, a jump, an undercut, more, more, more! I sped up, funneling all my energy into this attack, trying to reach Khaman’s dodging figure.

And at last, I was successful. With a snap, my blade met something soft and yielding. The Watcher opened his hands, dropping the remains of his stick. My axe was stuck in his collarbone, his health bar red. In a few seconds, his hit points were completely gone, thanks to bleeding.

The duel is over.

Winner is HotCat.

I heard sparse cheering from the tribunes. Flame gave me a thumbs up — way to go!

“A nice chaotic attack, HotCat,” Balian said. “Congratulations on your first win.”

In a duel mode, players weren’t sent to respawn. After losing all hit points, they simply regained them after the duel was