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

I regretted my decision almost right away, slipping and losing my footing while walking through the sticky mold covering the pier. Clouds of spores—scarlet, crimson, and purple—filled the air, carpeting the crooked streets with layers of dust, settling on our clothes, and getting stuck in our hair. The stacking Fungal Symbiosis debuffs lit up on our health bars, not dangerous but annoying. I removed them twice with Cleansing, but it was hopeless, as new spores appeared every minute. The residents of Mildew came in two types: the myconids, weird creatures that looked like moving mushrooms, and the NPCs, who probably used to be people. Living there had taken a toll on them—they looked awful. Fungal Symbiosis left its mark. I started to understand why the Hole was a closed world. It was a sight not for the faint of heart, an ugly trick of the procedural generator.

The myconids, as Thrainul explained, were a hive mind akin to ants or bees. They didn’t have minds of their own and were controlled by the Mother, a mysterious thinking mycelium. The entire mushroom island was this creature’s body, brain, and habitat. It was growing and reproducing, infecting everything around it with myriads of spores.

Any myconid was willing to become a pawn right away, with no quests or requirements. Hundreds of those creatures greeted us, the mushroom stalk billowing with growths.

“They are carrying out the Mother’s tasks,” the captain told us. “She wants to grow and infest all islands in the Hole with her spores, even get to other worlds. I advise you against getting involved. I used to know a guy who got tempted by a free pawn. They’re still calling him Mr. Mushroom.”

As I understood it, Thrainul traded with the locals. Barrels full of purple slices of “mushroom meat” were loaded into the Abyssal, filling out almost the entire cargo hold. That was the main source of Mildew’s export revenue, and it was in high demand in the Hole, poor in food supplies as it was. On the distant islands where nothing grew, people only ate mushrooms and whatever they could find in the underground sea.

The Pioneers didn’t rest until they studied the entire island and recorded videos of its inhabitants. It was funny, watching Fayana trying to make contact with a myconid and Bonus map out the settlement without breaking his stride. Thankfully, we spent only two hours ashore. Upon returning to the ship, I realized that in the future, I was bound to get nauseous from all the mushroom-based dishes.

As we set sail, Thrainul called me up and said quietly, “You were right: the Pandas are still at it. My friends contacted me, saying that they’re following us on Mancurt’s ship. I guess they got your coordinates on Mildew from an oracle.”

“What should I do?”

“Nothing. They won’t find us at sea. The Hole has lots of islands—how the hell would they know where I’m headed? And even if they do... Mancurt’s Barracuda is a fast ship, but it won’t stand a chance against the Abyssal in battle. Mancurt’s skinny ass knows this, and he won’t try. As for you, I’d suggest you log out for a few hours. I’ve heard that powerful oracles can track down targets even on the move.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll log out, then. Just one question, Captain: why are you worried about my safety? You’ve got yourself a difficult passenger with Pandas on his tail, and you’re helping him out of the kindness of your heart? I don’t get it. Anyone in your place would’ve turned me in, getting rid of me and earning a bounty to boot.”

“Does the word ‘decency’ mean anything to you?!” the zwerg flared up. “I promised to get you to Scale, and I’ll do it!”

“Just that?”

“Not just that!” Thrainul grumbled. “I asked Olaf about you, and he told me to help you in any way. I owe him—he had my back when Hird pinned me down.”

“An interesting story. Will you tell me?”

“Nothing special. You know Hird, right? I used to run with them before deciding to split off on my own. Many guys went with me. We don’t like their laws, get it?” Thrainul was almost shouting. “The leaders had their own opinion, though. They called us renegades. Kill on sight, that kind of thing. We locked horns for a time, but you can’t chop wood with a penknife. In short, the upper worlds are closed to me. I’m their arch-enemy. As soon as I show my nose there, they’ll start hunting me like the Pandas and you. That’s another reason why I’m helping you—I remember what it’s like. Paying back my debt, got it?”

The captain’s explanation made sense. I obediently left the game for a few hours, and when I returned, everything around me was completely different.

The crew and the passengers were gathered by the board, clutching at the railing. An exquisite icy temple was looming in the distance, sparkling in the iridescent glow of northern lights. We had almost reached the Crown of Ice, the most beautiful and mysterious place of the Hole.

 Interlude: The Watchers

A Courier video meeting, the Watchers’ council

Komtur: Everybody here? Let’s get started. In short, we have problems. Major problems.

Komtur: Yesterday, through a diplomat, I was contacted by Phantom, the leader of Euthanasia.

Olaf: He’s the unofficial head of Pandorum.

Damian: Wow! So what did he want?

Komtur: We met...

“I’LL BE BRIEF,” Phantom said. “A player from your clan owes us. He owes us a lot and has no intention of giving it back. He’ll be paying for a long time and not in money. I think you know who I’m talking about.”

Not a muscle moved on Komtur’s face. With a curt nod, he made it clear that he did know the man in question.

“For your own good, I suggest you do three things. First, kick him out of your