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

about the online shop that violated the rule about in-game trade or try to deal with them himself. Judging by the issues experienced by COSMOGOLD, I had been right. I smiled, imagining Nicky screaming and pulling his hair, having no idea what was going on. I wondered how much money he would lose during the shop’s downtime and on paying programmers to restore the site and its search results position. And that’s not even taking into account his reputation.

Still, I hoped that Sphere’s administration would take a step further and bury COSMOGOLD for good, just as they were rumored to do to all goldsellers who tried to one-up them. Good luck, Old Nicky. Karma’s a bitch, and I hope you’ll realize that.

* * *

 

An enormous glow rose over the mountains, blotting out the sunset. The century-old forests, the ruins of outposts — everything that could burn was aflame. Gusts of wind ripped apart the sheets of grey smoke, and countless flocks of ravens circled the skies above. Dark shapes scurried in the fire on the mountaintop, making inhuman screams.

The tired cavalry slowly retreated via narrow forest paths, having separated into multiple groups. The grandees’ armor bore marks of battle, and banners with the sign of a barley ear drooped sorrowfully. The footsoldiers marched on as well, sullen and silent, escorting the wagons with the dead and injured. Few of them were still standing, and the survivors never looked back.

“Thank you, Lorindale. You can switch off Bird’s Eyes.”

The video broadcast stopped. The leaders of the Northern Alliance that gathered on the balcony of Condor, the Watcher’s castle, once again looked westward. From the highest peaks of the Northern Mountain Belt, a hundred leagues away from the battlefield, the glow of the battle was as clear as day.

“Well, that was quite vivid,” Crow, the leader of the Varangians, said with a nod. “Let’s continue.”

They left the balcony that encircled the tower and entered a round hall, seating themselves at a huge table. A detailed map of the northwest of the continent was carved on its marble surface. Komtur touched it with his hand, and one of the regions flashed and turned crimson.

“Black River is lost. The battle of Bear Pass is over,” Bara Norkins, the leader of Brethren, spoke up. Her character was a halfling, and she had to climb a chair to look at the map. Her red, round-cheeked face looked exhausted, and she was constantly yawning. Bara was the only one of those present who had fought in the aforementioned battle from start to finish. Despite her comical appearance, everyone knew: Bara was a tough leader of one of the most active clans of the alliance.

“Strikes against Ardat have already begun!” Olaf nodded. “Drax riders are swirling above Dan-na-Ard, and we have nobody to meet them!”

“We’ve spent three days fighting for the Black River,” Bara said through her teeth. “Round-the-clock raids. People need to sleep...and so do I, by the way.”

“How did it happen?” Goodfellow, the leader of Enemy, asked. “Why couldn’t you hold the pass? They were just NPCs...”

“Orcs, more than ten thousand strong. Strong fighters, well-organized,” Bara replied. “Plus, they were assisted by PROJECT HELL, at least three teams. We can’t hold them. We need help!”

The clan leaders were wide-eyed with shock, having never heard proud Bara say something like that before. If she admitted her defeat, then it was truly no laughing matter.

“Bear Pass is the gate to Ardat, the northern province of Eyre. If they took it, they now have a clear path to the capital. Olaf, how much time do we have?”

“No more than a month. Dan-na-Ard, the central stronghold of the province, is a level four outpost, a well-fortified castle. The Err will surely pull his forces there, even despite the attacks from the east, from Daigor and Dyre. Still, they don’t have a chance. The enemy’s stronger and more numerous. The orcs are coordinated and have a siege horde with engineers, catapults, and battering rams. In short, I expect them to be done in a month, and that’s if they don’t hurry.”

“And what’s next? Eyre?” Komtur asked.

“Eyre,” the analyst affirmed. “If the odds don’t change.”

“In a nutshell, we risk losing the kingdom,” Bara said. “We need help, alliance! Time to join the faction war! Let’s kick their asses all together so they remember it!”

“I agree. Varangians will fight!” sullen Crow snapped. “Do you really want the House of Darkness to get here? Ananizarte and her minions?”

“The Watchers can’t intervene, as much as we’d like to,” Komtur said softly. “We have a deal with PROJECT.”

“Oh yeah, Helt Akor, we remember,” Crow said sarcastically. “Have you farmed a lot, at least?”

“Not much.” Komtur’s face was a mask. “And no taunts, please. I have an idea, but I’d like to hear everyone out first.”

“Enemy are out. They don’t threaten our territory or the alliance lands, either,” Goodfellow said lazily. “I don’t see the point. We have enough on our plate beating off the Japanese. We could use some help ourselves, actually.”

Goodfellow was a well-known player famous for being one of the best PvP raid leaders of Dorsa. His clan controlled the west coast, the most tumultuous part of the alliance’s territory. Enemy were famous as the fiercest fighters of the Northerners. Occasionally, Japanese clans from the Farsids tried to raid their land to break through into the heartlands. Goodfellow’s position made sense. The other leaders nodded thoughtfully.

“Faction war is a joke. Everyone will stop respecting us. Battling NPCs is for newbies. It’s not an option.” That was Madman, the chief of Heroes, the fifth clan of the alliance. Their territory was to the south, on the border of the Wild Field.

“So you consider Tao and PROJECT newbies?” Komtur chuckled.

“Sorry, wrong phrase. But it’s like sex with a blowup doll. It’s not fun. Heroes are out, no offense.”