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

I had received, was generally useless. The only thing it did was compensate for Dread, the debuff in the hardest dungeons. One point of Dread decreased all stats by 10%. When the Dread scale was full — 10 points — the character got paralyzed and could only writhe helplessly. Estel, which meant “hope,” could be increased via the songs of bards and minstrels, but not by much and not for long. Magic gems were the best way to improve the score. They were rare and expensive, pursued by many players. Not so long ago, I had bought an entire shipment of them for the Watchers, getting a nifty discount. I remember how surprised I had been that one gem, meaning one item, couldn’t hold more than one point of Estel. The maximum boost gear could give was 10 points, as Estel gems couldn’t be inserted into weapons. That was the maximum cap, and I was sure that was how the developers increased dungeon difficulty.

“All right, you assemble tomorrow. All details are in the chat, I added you and gave you access. Read the pinned message and study the tactics. It’s important. Oh, and HotCat, I highly recommend you level up your combat skills if you want to continue raiding with us. Everything clear?”

* * *

 

The PvE raid gathered in Condor the next morning. There were forty-seven of us, including such big shots as Komtur, Olaf, Damian, and Abel. I also noticed Hermione and Lorindale. AlexOrder was there as well — the clan couldn’t make do without its only runemaster. I was surprised to see Valkyrie and Flame. The guys had truly stepped up their game: Maria, as it turned out, was training to become an assistant Raid Leader. She had all the makings of a good tactician with her quick thinking. Flame, despite his relatively low character age — he was only a month older than me — demonstrated significant progress and proved himself as a reliable tank. He was the third or fourth replacement off-tank.

So why only forty-seven? That’s how many Estel sets we could muster up. There was no point in taking players without such equipment. As soon as they entered the Endless Paths, they turned into cannon fodder. The Watchers had already passed that stage; the current raid was number thirteen.

“This armor makes me uncomfortable,” Flame whispered to me. “As if I were naked.”

“Why?”

“It’s a PvE set. Have you seen its affixes?”

That was true. Any PvP-focused player with requisite gems and some expertise would have an edge against a wielder of an Estel set. I could bet that many Watchers were shivering with cold, having lost their usual abilities. All they could rely on was their own skill; after all, it meant more than any gear or high level, Balian used to say during training, kicking us around. Back then, I had hated him for that, but at the moment, I felt grateful.

We had to transfer twice, first teleporting from the castle to Golden Fairs, and then to Hayvin, the capital of the eponymous kingdom. Hayvin somewhat reminded me of Eyre: the same medieval stone city surrounded by battlements. However, it was much colder, and the streets were busy with various non-humans, mostly orcs. Black banners emblazoned with a five-pointed white crown fluttered on the towers, ruffled by the icy wind, and the citizens greeted each other with the Lady’s sign, raising five outspread fingers. Hayvin was the domain of the House of Darkness, one of the first NPC kingdoms conquered by Ananizarte.

It was in the northeast of the continent on the other end of Dorsa. I had never been so far away before. The raid got off the ground — the rest of our journey would be spent on the back of birdies. As I sat in the second saddle of Alex’s roc, I admired the glorious view below us.

In the north, giant mountains gleamed white with snow, so close and even more magnificent than the Northern Belt skirting the border of Eyre. In the distance, among the foothills shrouded in foggy haze, I spied a flashing red light and focused my eyes on it. It was a tower, a colossal black monstrosity resembling a grotesque hand that crawled out from the depths of the earth. It held a pulsating scarlet piece in its fingers. A crystal? A flame? It was too far away to be sure.

“Stop looking!” Alex yelled over the wind. “Don’t look there!”

“What’s that?”

“The Claw Tower, Ananizarte’s stronghold! Don’t look there. Things happen!”

After saying that mysterious tirade, AlexOrder concentrated on controlling the birdie. So what kind of things had happened? Out of interest, I opened the Atlas, marking our route. Wow, we were in the very heart of our enemies’ territory! In the north, there were the lands of the factions that waged war against Eyre — the orc kingdoms of the Snake Peninsula. They had long since been brought under the Lady’s heel. The map was riddled with unfamiliar names: Irth-Garth, undermountain castle of Lliorkh, Khash-Khor, Sapphire Islands. Images, links to text. Lulled by the flight, I didn’t notice as I grew absorbed into reading.

The Snake Peninsula is situated in the northeast of Dorsa and is the northernmost end of the continent. Its rugged coast is broken by numerous fiords, bays, and skerries, and its shape resembles a snake...

 

“HotCat! Did you fall asleep? We’ve arrived!”

I closed the encyclopedia describing the geographical and cultural features of the Snake Peninsula, unfastened the roc’s harness, and jumped down — first on its fluttering wing, then on the ground. I looked around. We were in a snowy ravine that looked a lot like the place where I had once found my sword.

Above us hung a sheer rocky wall, turning into a weirdly shaped cliff. On its top, at an unimaginable height, surrounded by ice ridges, we could see the jagged outline of a clan castle