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

ceiling, crawling up to the weird stone sarcophagi, as if powering them. Most magicables converged in the center of the room, around a large throne built from pure edra. It held a grinning skeleton in a strange robe. Its pose felt somehow familiar.

Warily, I approached it. The sound of my steps reverberated through the hall. The dead man was taller than most, almost seven feet tall, and had an unusual egg-shaped skill. The hands clasping the armrests were also peculiar, almost spider-like. Suddenly, I recalled the images of the Ancients on their paintings and shivered. Was that a real skeleton of an Ancient?

A long scepter was propped against one of the armrests of the throne. Its knob was shaped as a bright red gem in a clawed hand. The system helpfully displayed a series of question marks next to the item — it was unidentified. Like the rest of the Ancients’ gear — the robe, the belt, the curved dagger on his lap — was outlined red, meaning that...

Attention! This property belongs to someone else! You will be attacked upon taking or using this item!

 

That was unexpected. So I could look, but couldn’t touch, else I’d be attacked by the guardians of the Ziggurat? Quite likely. I wasn’t going to take any risks, so I carefully went around the corpse and squinted, my attention drawn to the item lying on a tall stone cube next to the throne. It was outlined blue, meaning that it could only be seen via See Unseen.

It was a band cut from a whole shard of edra, translucent like fishbone and also unidentified. Blue Kann-Elo characters ran over its surface, forming an inscription. The red color on top of blue meant that using it was also forbidden. I made a screenshot and PM’d it to Alex.

HotCat: Can you translate?

 

AlexOrder: I could try, but I need time.

 

I stepped back and peered straight into the empty eye sockets of the skeleton. At last, I realized why its pose looked so familiar.

The Colossus was sitting on the throne just like that, sprawling its feet and clasping the armrests.

Abbot: HotCat, are you all right? Get back.

 

Olaf: We have a problem. Its’ the Succubate.

 

The room had an exit to the top of the pyramid. It opened at my touch, releasing me outside. I stepped out above the head of the Colossus, just next to the back of its head, close enough to pat the triangular points of its crown. So how about it, man? Ready to work for the good of others?

* * *

 

A cloud of succubi swarmed above us in the hazy mist of the cave. It suggested that there were openings allowing them to get inside by air. The timer showed more than three hours before they were supposed to respawn. The Succubate came too early!

I hadn’t known yet that demons had special faction abilities decreasing respawn time. And there was one other thing, too...

“What are they waiting for?” Olaf whispered impatiently. “Are you ready, Cat?”

I nodded, not saying anything. The raid closed ranks, waiting for the enemy to act, but the succubi didn’t seem to do anything — other than increase their numbers each minute. Looking up, we watched them, having made all possible preparations.

Abel: I lost count at six hundred. There are more of them than before.

 

Abbot: They’re better equipped, too. They came to kill. Olaf, what do you think, do we stand a chance?

 

Olaf: There’s always a chance. But I believe in Cat.

 

A solid grey ball of winged figures broke away from the horde of succubi and lunged at us like a cork shot out from a bottle. The Watchers covered themselves with shields, and a wave of coordinated movements rolled over the ranks as warriors put their weapons at the ready.

The earth slightly trembled. A ring of huge grey-winged demons stood before the raid, winged giants with grotesquely oversized muscles, twisted black horns, large fangs, and malevolent red light in the slits of their eyes. The Succubate’s Consorts, rank three NPC, powerful tanks that we had already slain in the battle at the staircase. They were exceedingly cruel, and at the moment, there were more of them, and they were armed.

The wall of shields came apart, breaking the circle. A tall slender demoness wearing form-fitting black armor stepped out, swaying her hips. I came out from among the Watchers to meet her, cold in my gut.

Raven-black hair tied in a bun sticking out from a special opening in the back of her horned helmet, eyes burning ardent blue, black armor of a rather...peculiar design glowing with magic, purple wings spread behind her back, sharp claws in the folds. Mara, Supreme Succubus. Had the Succubate chosen a new queen?

“Where’s the crown?” She wasn’t asking, she was demanding, looking at us as if we were dust beneath her feet. I felt a tinge of fiendish glee. That looked familiar. The lady needed to be taught a lesson.

“How about introducing each other first? And as for the crown, we can come to an agreement.”

“Cats don’t negotiate with mice. The only thing they can do with them is play a little bit...” Mara sneered, baring her inch-long fangs.

“A cat like me can win over any mouse!” I made a pun.

“Today, we aren’t in a mood for wordplay,” the demoness hissed. “We came to kill.”

Several grey-skinned consorts rushed at me, but froze in place as Aelmaris spun right before their fanged faces in a merciless whirlwind. The blade was glowing bright blue.

“One of the Seven?” The succubus flinched back. She glanced at the sword, then back at me. “But it doesn’t change anything. I want to know where’s the crown!”

“The crown? There!” I casually pointed at the Ziggurat with the tip of my sword. “Go on, take it,