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

I heard a strange voice coming from inside the cub. It was as if an alarm clock was talking to us, its voice rattling, squeaky, with metallic notes. “Three-Five-Seven An has arrived to investigate. Where is the perpetrator?”

“Officer, the perpetrator has fled,” Green said.

“The perpetrator is Player Kesson. He is on the wanted list and has thirty-seven bounties,” the cube continued broadcasting. “Do you wish to put a bounty?”

“No, officer, we’re in a hurry,” Green quickened his speech, aggressively winking at me. “In a great hurry.”

“As a victim, Player HotCat receives a license for attacking Player Kesson.” It...he....Three-Five-Seven produced a parchment with colored seals and handed it to me.

“You may use it, sell it, or give it away. It is valid for a month. Please sign.”

After giving me the license, the guard lost interest, turned around, and left. I noticed translucent folded wings on the backs of the mantis-hoppers used by the Forged as mounts. So on top of everything, they could fly. Wow.

“What should I do with the license?” I asked Green.

“Use it to wipe your ass for all I care,” he smirked. “Or you can try selling it, there’s a chance someone will buy it. You’ve heard it yourself, there’s lots of bounties for this thief.”

“What were those robots?”

“The golems? They’re mercenaries from the Forgeworlds, policing the Bazaar under a contract. They’re pretty tough, I advise you to avoid them. The commanders are dromonts. They...it’s a long story, you’ll learn it yourself. They made the Bazaar a bit safer. It was a horror before them.”

“Could you warn me about other dangers now?” I asked.

“Other dangers... Lots of them here, Cat.” The Watcher scratched his head. “Don’t go here in expensive gear, epic or legendary, unless it’s bound. See those guys?”

He casually gestured towards a group of players uniformly wrapped in cloaks of disguise. They were sitting on birdies on the roof of a building close by, pretending to be bored. A flying boat slowly drifted toward them, losing height. It had a silvery blue banner and was manned by metallic golem guards. Languidly, like a murder of crows, the players abandoned their positions and split up, gliding above the alleyways and retreating every which way. The flying skiff raised its sails, but catching up to a birdie at a short distance was impossible. So what was that? Had the guards decided to check the papers of shady persons with hidden nicknames?

“In short, when they see anyone in expensive stuff, they kill them. There’s lots of such guys here. Some lie in wait for players they know have something good on them. So my advice, don’t show your cards, it’s dangerous.”

“The guards will immediately kill them.”

“Oh no, they have everything arranged. They have spotters who find marks, they have assassins, and they have dedicated looters. They rummage through your pockets just after you die, in the blink of an eye. As for the guards...yeah, they’ll kill someone, decrease the reputation, add to the wanted list, so what? Their stuff is cheap, but their marks have deep pockets. One lucky find will make up for all expenses.”

“Basically, they are PK scavengers.”

“Right. Oh, and be careful with chats and offers to buy something via NPCs. Nine times out of ten, it’s a scam, even if some offers are really good. Don’t get mixed with all of that until you learn the ropes. Let’s go.”

The first floor of the tower was full of elevators. A fine-tuned mechanism carried people and NPCs scurrying around up and down via special chutes. It reminded me of the bustling New Tokyo subways during rush hour, with everyone busily running about their business. The entrance was watched by the Forged, who were led by dromonts. No PKers could get inside: the guards carefully examined all guests. One of the levitating mechanoids checked everyone with a weird ray of light emanating from its eye.

“Auction. Bank. Storehouses,” said Green, pointing at them. “Here, on the fifth floor, you can rest and get a meal. And here... See the plaque? These are the offices of transporter alliances. Unless you’re making a VIP order via contracts, go here.”

We went up to the sixth floor; floors three to ten, according to the plaque, contained public auction halls, and above them were storehouses, VIP meeting rooms, apartments, ship maintenance docks, and so on.

The auction hall was plain, even if huge. NPC auctioneer stands framed the room, and slateboards provided access to the market interface. There was only one problem: the hall was fully populated, with customers clinging to all the boards. As soon as a spot freed up, it was immediately taken.

We moved up, but the seventh floor was no less crowded, just as floors eight and nine were. I couldn’t believe my eyes — were all the Bazaar towers chock-full of people? Holy shit! It was one thing to read about thirty thousand players constantly immersed in trade, seventeen million lots, and two trillion gold of monthly turnover, but seeing was something else entirely. It was truly impressive. Finally, on the tenth floor, we discovered free auctioneer windows.

“Is it always so crowded here?” I couldn’t bear it any longer.

“What did you expect? It’s the Bazaar.” Green narrowed his eyes. “It’s the merchant heart of Sphere. Buy a Diamond account, they get VIP apartments with all auction features on the top floors.”

Is that so? I decided to keep mum on me already having that status — no need to make people jealous. Under Green’s guidance, I bought everything on the list given by Damian and put on sale the clan property kept in the auction storehouses, as its selling time had already expired. Apparently, Green had been slacking for some time. It had been more than a month since his last visit to the Bazaar.

“Always check the weight and value of the cargo,” he instructed me.