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

Pop! Shards sprayed out, and the Crystal’s previously impregnable health bar faltered, decreasing by a wee bit. Once more, with feeling — and a web of cracks ran in all directions. I dealt one blow after another, accompanied by a deafening crackling sound, until the wall of ice snapped and burst, split from top to bottom. Excited, I grabbed the edges of the fracture with my fingers, pulling out the crumbling pieces, trying to make it wider. The Crystal’s hit bar dwindled before my eyes.

* * *

Ananizarte stood motionless by the pool inside her dark citadel. Her face was a mask of cold composure. The goddess counted down the final seconds before she would send herself into the mysterious Endless Paths. She was ready.

Raghel, the invisible blade that could slay its target in all dimensions, was comfortably wrapped around her right wrist in the shape of a silver bracer. It was a weapon that even gods feared.

The ring with a golden spider frozen on a black onyx band was the terrible ransom gift of the Spider King.

The flickering armor woven of darkness itself was the aegis of the House of Darkness; anyone who laid eyes on it saw a different image.

And her own divine power. The grey swindler might be afraid to put it in use, preferring to act by proxy, but she was not. And let the Balance crumble!

After all, it’s not like she had a choice.

* * *

Komtur: Jeez, he’s really going to tear it down at that rate.

Abbot: Yeah, he’s almost there.

Olaf: I really wonder what happens next.

Abel: Attention! We have guests! To the right, three o’clock!

Komtur: Who’s that? Holy crap! (censored)

Olaf: (censored)

Abbot: (censored)

A slender dark-haired girl hovered above a small plateau to the right of the raid, her feet not touching the ground. She could be called gorgeous — perfect figure, delicate features, flowing hair the color of night — if not for a few terrifying details — the arrogant mask of a Snow Queen, an armor woven from serpentine shadows, and a completely black nickname above her head, informing everyone that they were in the presence of Ananizarte, the Goddess of Darkness.

She was looking at the Colossus, which, up to its knees in rubble, still continued to destroy the Crystal. Then she shifted her gaze to the Watchers, their raid closing ranks, weapons at the ready. A slight smile crept over her lips. In a moment, she was right next to them.

With a wave of her hand and an elusive silver glow, the first ranks of the players were sent flying in all directions. The invisible blade in the goddess’ hand could cut through anything — shields, swords, armor, bodies — and killed instantly. Ananizarte shrouded herself in crimson flame that burned all counterattacks and walked forward, laughing.

There was no fighting back. The invisible blade grew longer, reaching even those who seemed to be out of its range. Unable to stand the slaughter, the surviving Watchers fled, scattering.

The goddess didn’t seem interested in chasing the escaping players. Instead, she kept glancing at the Colossus. Ananizarte stopped to do something with a ring on her finger and stretched her hand. Huge black spiders rained down from her palm, one after another, rapidly growing in size. After jumping down on the stone floor of the cave, they ran in pursuit of the fleeing Watchers. The players died one after another, caught by the many-legged monsters.

Meanwhile, Ananizarte spread her hands, creating a thin black spindle gleaming with silver. An expert on dark magic would have recognized the Spear of Darkness, the divinely powerful spell that dealt tremendous damage to a single target. After charging it to the max, the goddess straightened up like an uncoiled string and threw the Spear into the back of the unsuspecting Colossus.

* * *

The Crystal of Negation’s hit points were flashing deep crimson when I received a sudden blow in the back. It felt like a heavy hammer hitting my spine at full speed. My knees gave way, and like a ton of bricks, I crashed down on the ground, the cave’s stone floor rapidly growing uncomfortably close. The log showed one hundred and sixteen thousand points of damage. That was almost one and a half percent of my total health, dammit!

While I was standing up, controlling the clumsy monstrosity, I got barraged with several more blasts, each dealing from ten to fifty thousand damage. An invisible force was tearing huge lumps of stone from the walls and the ceiling and throwing them at me with the speed of a cannonball. That said, shooting me with those “snowballs” wasn’t exactly efficient — upon hitting me, they burst into small chunks or bounced off the metallic body with a shower of white sparks.

Confused about what was going on and bereft of my usual communication channels, I looked over the cave, trying to figure out who had interrupted our games. The first thing I saw was a swarm of black and green spiders the size of a calf scattered around the cave. They were chasing down and killing the Watchers, and going by the many lifeless bodies lying around, the raid was almost completely destroyed.

What was going on? But then, I discovered a small figure hovering right above the ground. Obeying its gestures, huge boulders rattled as they rose in the air and flew right at me. The considerate system outlined it in crimson and marked as Ananizarte, Goddess of Darkness.

Goddamn it! I was in the presence of the leader of the House of Darkness, the most powerful creature on Dorsa herself! I didn’t know much about pantheons, but everyone always spoke about Ananizarte in hushed tones, their eyes wide — she was thought to be one tough cookie. The House of