Battle for the North (Rogue Merchant Book #4): LitRPG Series by Roman Prokofiev (best beach reads of all time .txt) 📗

In its normal state, a dome was invisible and shaped like a perfect sphere. It was impenetrable from the outside but not from the inside. In invincibility mode, it couldn’t be destroyed. The clan leaders’ plan remained unclear. Our veiled ships froze by the dragon maw — the central entrance to Atrocity. Were they expecting Pandorum to open their doors to us?

The latter turned out to be true. The blue bubble of the dome flashed around the enemy citadel and disappeared, fading in a blaze of fire. The locked teeth of the stone dragon, each the size of an astral skiff, budged, moving apart with a horrible screech. Slowly, they opened wide, revealing a tunnel into the depths of Atrocity.

A command came: trying to retain invisibility, our fleet poured inside, one ship at a time. Not everyone was successful, and some ships lost their Veils in a hurry. The dreadful weapons and harpoon guns placed to keep the entrance under crossfire suspiciously ignored that mistake. Were the Pandas asleep?

Komtur: Remove the Veils! Mount the birdies! Rush inside, fast!

Inside, something strange was going on. We heard screams and the noise of battle, although our birdies and ships were only just entering the gaping dragon maw. The tunnel walls and rows of astral ships peacefully standing in the docks flashed past us. The majority of the fleet had left with the juggernauts, but several dozen vessels remained in the fortress either for repairs, as a reserve, or left without fuel or a crew. Battle was already raging on the narrow piers and the decks of moored ships. Spurts of flame blazed all around, dragon riders circling in the air, and combat spells exploding with a booming sound. I noticed a huge castle golem mauling a protodragon and several NPCs pressing players. Our troops immediately charged, overwhelming the enemies with a wave of winged bodies, and players left onboard the ships followed suit, climbing the gangplanks. Strangely, I couldn’t identify any Pandas — everyone fighting on the piers had no alliance tags or enemy marks carefully placed by our strategists. Who were they? Where were the Pandas? I wasn’t the only one wondering about that, as confused exclamations flooded the channel. A few seconds later, Olaf cleared up the situation.

Olaf the Prophet: Attention! Kill everyone not marked as ally! Try to avoid hurting the NPCs!

Olaf the Prophet: The Pandorum alliance doesn’t exist anymore! Our spy dissolved it! Kill everyone who isn’t with us EXCEPT FOR the NPCS!

Much later, I learned about several sleepless nights spent by the leaders of our coalition while developing their plan; about calculating multiple variants of dealing maximum damage to Pandorum; about hundreds of buildings formerly belonging to the Pandas losing their status and becoming neutral and available for capture by any clan; about instantly reset treaties, losing reputation with NPCs, and suddenly rebelling garrisons; about the Pandas forfeiting their castle portals, soulbinding spots, and all communication channels including messenger voice chats. They couldn’t even raise the alarm: all they could do was write personal messages to those online or personally call those asleep. Even after finally coordinating their forces, they couldn’t come to help, as Atrocity became neutral with nobody’s clan teleports working.

I also didn’t know yet that thousands of players were logging into Sphere: NAVY, the finally awakened Hird, Northerners, mercenaries, bandits, and scavengers — everyone who had a hint that they could get a plum piece of a large pie. They were assembling raids and picking out targets — defenseless castles and forts, outposts, and mining deposits. In the next few hours, Pandorum’s former holdings in several worlds would be swept up in the chaos of hundreds of attacks.

Our raid had five hundred and thirteen people: good players, real pros. They were well trained and well equipped, prepared for the operation. I also saw the familiar clan summons: the Hounds, the Knights, the Walking Forest. The piers were cleared pretty quickly. Most of the NPCs were bound and disabled so as not to kill them. The only problems were a couple of golems unwilling to succumb to diplomacy. Raid leaders assigned targets. Some players would take control of the astral ships, and I finally realized why we needed so many skillbooks — apparently, Komtur planned on capturing the enemy fleet. Others went to block the resp point, and the rest actively cleared up the firing positions along the outer perimeter. Together with a group of elite warriors, I was sent to a heated spot — storming the heart of the fortress, the keep holding the Key that identified the clan as the owner of the castle. The Pandas, of course, were no fools and defended it as well as they could while trying to restore Atrocity’s status. Still, their numbers were few, no more than three hundred, and they were forced to fight on two fronts, against us and the rebellious NPCs. They also didn’t really have an idea what to do. The situation had taken them unaware. After an hour, clanless and deprived of leaders and support, the defenders of Atrocity were driven to the respawn circle in the basement — that same one where I had once held warm conversations with Jerkhan and company.

The furious battle for the citadel reminded me how we had retreated into the Condor clan hall, leaving bodies on the stairs. This situation mirrored that one, but it was our enemies’ turn to drink from the chalice of defeat. I had to give credit where it was due: they fought to the last. But we had the numerical advantage, and a couple of Flaming Bolides considerably sped up the process, despite damaging the clan hall interior. After a thirty-minute slaughter, everything was over. The Pandas were surrounded at the resp point, and the majority of the fortifications were secure and under control. We