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

be pro bono? I wouldn’t take risks without a good reason, especially since they were quite capable of paying me back after looting Atrocity’s treasuries. It wouldn’t bankrupt them.

So what should I ask for? Money, items, artifacts? Something material or a favor? Of course, I preferred to keep my assets liquid in something that only increased in price with time. I needed something unique and in-demand, something that could assure my future growth.

I considered the issue. A stray thought that suddenly found a way into my mind crystallized into a clear idea. I think it’s called a revelation.

Hmm, what if...

Suddenly materializing next to me, the First Maiden scared our soldiers half to death. The alarm sounded, and many drew their weapons. I couldn’t see Romanova’s emotions under her mask, but she was definitely derisive when she demonstrated her empty hands.

“How...how should we address you?” Komtur asked after clearing his throat.

“You can call me Lady,” she said from behind the mask.

Ignoring the players who split their ranks, she walked around the respawn circle, hidden under a cloud of Great Darkness to keep it secret.

“Lady, what will happen to those who resurrect in your fortress?” Olaf ventured to ask.

“It depends on their karma. Those who bear the brand of murderer have no place inside our home. Everyone else can visit the Stronghold as they wish.”

Our leaders exchanged looks. The Pandas mostly had really low, crimson-colored karma. For them, it was a badge of merit they wore with honor. Look at us; we’re the bad guys! In this case, that karma was going to work against them. The Silver Stronghold had the usual NPC Kingdom laws: all criminals were immediately attacked by guards. Pandorum’s soldiers would struggle to even leave the resp point.

“I have to warn you: we’re going to be attacked in several hours,” Olaf spoke up. “If you take the resp circle, thousands of players will flood your home.”

I heard a chuckle from under the silver mask. Then the First Maiden shrugged.

“I know. We’ll play your game, players.”

With those words, she raised her hand, slightly shifting her fingers. A web of cracks spread out from the respawn circle built into the floor. Stone fragments flew in all directions, like shrapnel. With a horrible screech, as if protesting the intervention, the circle broke away from the surface, soaring in the air above. Her head tilted, Romanova skeptically studied it, as if deciding if she really needed that thing.

Then she lazily moved her fingers, as if crumpling paper, and the giant plate shrunk. Before our eyes, the resp circle rapidly contracted, losing size and weight.

“Miniaturization! This is Miniaturization, an unranked Telekinesis spell!” Olaf muttered behind her back, fascinated. “A legendary skill!”

After making the circle coin-sized, Romanova hung it above her right shoulder. Covered with a cloud of darkness, it looked like a small sphere of impenetrable gloom.

“I’m taking it,” she said.

* * *

Everything was going off-plan. Trouble never came alone, and like a cornered beast, Phantom suddenly realized that he had stumbled into the series of troubles called a losing streak. The fate of the battle, the fate of the alliance, his own fate — everything was hanging on a thin unraveling thread above a deep abyss.

However, he had always been a fighter and knew that fortune favored the bold.

“Is Search working inside? Don’t be stupid! Ask the oracles to take a look at the location and the coordinates of those of us who are inside! Hurry!”

The answer came a minute later: the coordinates were almost the same as Atrocity with only a few degrees’ difference. The scouts immediately headed there, saddling their fast winged mounts. The location was called Silver Stronghold, and the eggheads concluded that it was the nest of the Maidens who had given the Veils to NAVY and company. There was absolutely zero information about them. The analysts thought that they were one of the “wandering” NPC factions capable of moving between the worlds of Sphere.

A ridiculous idea that the enemy might have simply renamed Atrocity crossed his mind, but the video from the castle contradicted it: the architecture was completely different, mostly resembling some hi-tech futuristic design. Incredible as it may seem, the enemy had somehow moved the respawn circle from Atrocity to their Silver Stronghold.

Was it a trap? The success of the entire campaign depended on the decisions made at that moment. Phantom had always been good at assessing risks, coldly picking the correct tactics even in the thick of the fight. Still, even he didn’t know what to do. The Silver Stronghold and the new factions were the unknown variables in the battle equation.

In any case, there was no point in attacking Atrocity anymore. Following his orders, the Pandorum fleet turned around, trying to retreat. They had destroyed the citadel dome in the first minutes of battle, and there was no point in remaining under fire. Several ships were already down, and others had caught on fire. Seeing their opponents’ maneuver, dome-protected vessels belonging to the Northerners and NAVY started pursuit, trying to finish off the boats lagging behind. Nimble interceptor skiffs, previously hidden under Veils, suddenly revealed themselves. Jumping out of stealth like vultures, they attempted to restrain the slower ships by using chain-shots and harpoon guns.

The frigate called Mercury started losing speed, while Strike spun in place, wrapped in chains, and Essex slowly heeled over, ablaze and having lost its rigging. Phantom saw the losers and marked them in his mind, but sacrifices were inevitable. Their fate didn’t matter, as the scouts had almost reached their destination, and Pandorum’s armada turned around, ready to attack a new enemy.

The coordinates sent by the oracles proved correct. Just several leagues away from Atrocity, something big was hiding, concealed by what resembled a giant Veil. The seekers found its blind spot, and the scouts who flew in a bit