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

Each day at the Eyre auction, while flying over clan territory in a birdie, I saw long lines of NPC caravans carrying various cargo — resources, ore, metals, gems, dungeon loot, and ingredients. Some of them ended up at the Eyre auction, but the bulk got sent to the Bazaar on flying ships. That got me thinking. I started to analyze the situation, trying to figure out the carebears’ turnover based on indirect data, but my reflections got interrupted by the Magister.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, the Order Stronghold was full of players. Drawn by the new series of faction quests, they filled the once half-empty fortress, training together with knights on the tiltyard, handing over wagons of supplies to the Order’s stewards, and working with NPCs in the workshops — the forge, the kitchen, the stables. Quest givers could be quite ingenious while picking on players. I still remembered my misadventures in Eyre during my first month. Back then, I had done every hard labor I could think of: lug beer, sharpen swords, even search for a halberd dropped into a ditch by some guard...

“Is it your handiwork?” asked the Magister after I found him in one of the square towers. Clutching the battlements with his sinewy hands, Balabanov was watching his domain from a bird’s eye view, wind in his short grey hair.

I looked down on the fortress teeming with players. Hehehe. Serves you right, guys.

“It is,” he observed. “Mostly, it’s not so bad. Some of them have even merited becoming full-fledged brethren. I even devised a way to use them. When we get more, I’ll surprise you.”

Then he turned to me.

“Time’s running out, Cat. What are your results? According to my sources, you’re constantly traveling between Eyre and the Bazaar, not giving a damn. Hurry up and look for Svechkin.”

“I’m exploring my options. It’s not that simple,” I replied. “This world, Dagorrath...could you maybe advise me a way to get there? I tried going through the Netherworlds, three times. You can see the results in the kill rating.”

“I do. Too bad you’re in the Pandas’ crosshairs. You’ll never pass through, don’t even try. Go through Helt Akor. Reach the Seventh Layer, find a local guide there.”

“It’s easy for you to say it. One does not simply walk into the Endless Paths.”

“Look for ways. Focus on it,” said the Magister. “Players are raiding it all the time, some even live there. You must reach Svechkin, above all else. And soon, because...”

He stopped, looking at me askance.

“May I ask you something?” I seized the opportunity. “What if we call upon the gods to help us with that?”

“Gods? Why...wait, has one of the deities taken an interest in you?”

He’s shrewd, I concluded. Or maybe he just knew the mechanics of his own game down to the last detail. I decided to continue getting information straight from the source.

“Yes. Tormis. He’s watching me, constantly increasing my reputation,” I replied.

“Tormis. I see. That was to be expected... I can’t tell you anything useful, however. The deities are a capricious and, well, a devious lot, especially your so-called patron. It means he wants something from you.”

“But why me? How am I different from thousands of other thieves and traders?”

The Magister smirked and thrust his finger at the silver hilt of Aelmaris that hung from my belt.

“You’re one of the Seven; you have a flaming weapon. You also probably have a personality type matching a follower of the Great Thief,” he explained. “I suppose, he thinks that you could perform some complex task for him. But remember, nothing is free. Gods have their own interests and play their own game.”

“You talk about them as if they were alive,” I couldn’t resist saying. “But they are NPCs created by you with a purpose in mind.”

“I’m saying it as it is. So you still don’t get it,” Balabanov replied. “You know what...find my speech at the New Tokyo conference on the Net. Keywords are Artificial Intelligence. Watch it and pay attention, then think.”

“All right, I will. So what should I do with Tormis? Could he help me with Helt Akor?”

“How the hell should I know?” Balabanov seemed angry. “Maybe yes, maybe no! Use your brains, Cat. Go to his temple and ask him yourself.”

Chapter 11

I HAD WANTED to deal with my divine patron for a while now. Tormis, the god of rogues and traders, had definitely been making overtures toward me, marking successful ventures with increased reputation. Currently, my rep with him was close to Respect. Little by little, in the odd moments between doing clan business, trading, and negotiating, I was looking into his potential use.

The first step was simple: forums, guides, Net surfing, finding and studying all available information. So what were gods in Sphere of Worlds?

They were controlled by a separate, extra powerful, AI. There were three main groups: gods of Light, Darkness, and Shadow, plus dozens of smaller subgroups. They warred and allied with each other and could also move between worlds independently, albeit with some limitations.

While a leader of an NPC faction, usually a lord or a king, was rank five, deities were at least rank six — and counting. Rank six were demigods, while seven or eight signified full-fledged divinity. Only two rank nine entities were known to players, the Lord of Light and the Demon King. Curiously, gods could be destroyed — but that was far from trivial. Considering how powerful and inapproachable they were, fighting them demanded tremendous resources. I read about the previous attempts and smirked. By all accounts, for gods, smashing a few raids like they were nothing was a cakewalk. Those efforts also had exacted a huge toll on the quality of surrounding buildings: several cities got almost destroyed. However, most commenters concurred that the situation was only temporary and depended on the accumulated