The Gene of the Ancients (Rogue Merchant Book #2): LitRPG Series

by Roman Prokofiev

  A tall girl came up to me. She wore a tight, form-fitting armor that shined with magic and had a long katana grip sticking out above her shoulder. Her green eye looked at me with mockery and scorn, while the other one was hidden under a rebellious strand of white hair.

  “It’s this way,” she said, pushing me toward a big square structure near the stern. “Jerkhan’s waiting.”

  An ogre was standing next to a wheel, shaped to resemble the steering mechanism of an ancient sailboat. He was three heads taller than me; his black pauldrons and breastplate were bedecked in demonic skulls. I immediately recognized him: it was the same commander who was executing prisoners back in the marketplace in Eyre. Jerkhan.

  “Oh, fresh meat!” he greeted me. “Do you have the Soul Eater with you?”

  “Yes. But I don’t know how to release souls.”

  “Ha! So your losers haven’t even taught you how to do that? Do you even know how to use it?”

  “I could demonstrate it on you!” Blood surged to my face, and I shoved the blue blade right under his nose. I was already on edge after squabbling with Olaf, and now these arrogant mercenaries? Those needed to be brought down a peg right off the bat, or they’d be all over me.

  The tip of Aelmaris, glowing red hot, was almost touching Jerkhan’s face, but the ogre didn’t even blink.

  “Hey, guys, calm down!” he said, reining in the other players who immediately surrounded us. How had they managed that? Weren’t we alone on the bridge?

  “Jerry, it’s the dude who killed a few of our guys in Eyre, before the rollback,” somebody in the back said softly. “What’s he — “

  “Quiet! I swear by blood and steel!” Jerkhan roared, examining me carefully. “That was fast! Maybe you do have some warrior’s blood, after all.”

  Your reputation with Pandorum Alliance increased to Ally.

  “It’s temporary, just in case they kill you accidentally,” he explained and turned around, focusing on controlling the juggernaut. The engines bellowed, and a stiff gust of wind tousled my hair. The spectral sails bagged out. Iridescent light shined around us, indicating that we passed through the portal once again. To avoid looking like a fool, I stopped asking questions, like where we were headed and why, and simply sheathed my sword and started waiting.

  The juggernaut dropped into a reddish void. That literally was a void, no land, no sky, no stars — we were in a hollow space full of weird pink clouds that resembled a foggy dredge. I couldn’t make out the source of light, it seemed to come out of everywhere. I came up to the rails, looking around in curiosity. Jerkhan stopped paying me any attention; he kept silence, his hands on the wheel. The colossal frame of the juggernaut slowly turned, gaining speed and moving in an unknown direction.

  I had already realized that we were in the Astral Plane, the interdimensional space between the worlds of Sphere. Were we going to transfer the souls? Where would it happen? And how? I was at a loss, angry that nobody was explaining that to me. I tried to distract myself by studying the haze overside that gleamed all shades of red. Pretty soon, I grew tired of that: it was empty, and I could see no monsters that were the talk of the official Sphere forum. The Astral Plane wasn’t easily accessible. Only clans with their own fleet of flying ships could enter there, and even then, you had to be prepared to lose a few.

  In the meantime, the juggernaut slowed down to a crawl. We hovered in one place, and the engines went out with a soft whoosh. The sails were down. Did something happen?

  “A storm!” Jerkhan bellowed as if reading my thoughts. “The Seekers report that an Astral Storm is headed toward us! We need to wait it out.”

  The girl that had met me at first ran up the bridge.

  “Roahildorn, walk this dunce, or he’ll burn a hole through me with his eyes,” Jerkhan glanced at me. “Give him a tour of the Stormbringer, you have about an hour.”

  “I’m surprised that Jerry didn’t cut you in two,” said the girl with an unpronounceable nickname after we went down to the deck. “I think he likes you!”

  “Excuse me, Roahild...”

  “Just call me Roa,” she replied, giggling. “In any case, don’t go screwing around with him. Jerkhan is a shaman and a high priest of the Old Gods. He can cast month-long debuffs like no tomorrow!”

  I raised an eyebrow incredulously. I had never heard about the Old Gods before — or about such archetypes. Still, it didn’t prevent me from studying the kill rating of my new associates, thanks to the habit instilled in me by Liberty trainers. Wow, they are real veterans. Jerkhan had more than nine thousand kills, and Roa, six thousand and a half. Both of them were in the top thousand of PvP Ranking, the Silver Elite.

  “So he’s one tough cookie,” I said. “Okay. Do you have anybody else I should know?”

  We walked along the deck. Roa nodded toward the stern, where another ogre, armed with a sword and a shield, was fighting off three attackers. He seemed to be pretty successful, huge as a mountain, and fast like a tiger, a truly dangerous opponent.

  “Dargesh, our navigator, strategist, and the strongest warrior. I recommend you remember him.”

  “I thought Jerkhan was the strongest.”

  “Ha! Jerkhan’s in charge of ideology, diplomacy, and talking to the Old Gods.”

  “Oh, that’s how it is. And what are you responsible for?”

  “Me?” Roahildorn’s laughter was clear as a bell. “You’d be better off not knowing that. Torture and experiments on slaves!”

  The juggernaut was enormous. It had four decks riddled with passages, an elevator, lots of living rooms and facilities, a mess room, a powder magazine, a pilot’s cabin, a control post, and a reactor compartment. The ship was built using odd white material resembling fishbone. Roa told me that it was the skeletons of Astral Beasts, the giant monsters of the Boundary. For several years, it had served as home to the Steel Guard, almost four hundred belligerent scrappers. With its eight elemental engines, a spelljumper that allowed the creation of portals, six ray guns, thirty guns of varying caliber, and harpoon cannons on rotating platforms, it was a real flying citadel. I went online to find information on the price of such an astral juggernaut and was shocked: there were no blueprints or pre-built ships of that type for sale.

  “Yeah, building a juggernaut is a story in itself,” Roa said, nodding. “The source of the blueprint’s top secret. They say you can only get it by donating money or via RMT. Construction requires renting a separate wharf in the Forgeworlds for a month.”

  “There are probably only a few of them.”

  “A year ago, only Pandorum had them,” Roa sighed. “But now, I think there are more than ten. The alliances are getting rich. The Americans and the Chinese have some, the Hird have two, I hear...”

  I stopped on the artillery deck. Dozens of cannons were set along the ship’s board, and magecables were wired across the ceiling, powering the massive ray guns.

  “Rippers, Thunderstrikes, Colossus...” Roa listed the names of the weapons and then stopped, saying simply, “Well, you have to see it with your own eyes. If we fly above a lousy NPC kingdom, firing everything at once...”

  I had seen it, and I knew. I remembered how one burst had annihilated dozens of Watchers at Eyre.

  Meanwhile, the engines sprang back to life, and the juggernaut shuddered, gaining speed. The girl and I hurried to climb upstairs.

  “The storm’s over, and our tour as well,” Roa announced. “We’ll arrive in an hour.”

  A rogue spot appeared on the unchanging pink clouds of the Astral Plane, black as coal. With each second, it grew closer. We were approaching one of the biggest Shards. Later, they would tell me that in the Astral Plane, such objects could be seen from a distance and couldn’t be missed.

  The Shard was a huge black rock that soared in zero gravity, made possible by Sphere’s mechanics. It was shaped like a bloated human head, its bumps worn with time. When I learned about the origin of Shards, that shape started to make sense.

  A m
enacing gothic fortress arose from the rock, its material the same color as the stone. It was a clan stronghold, the main keep of Pandorum in Sphere.

  “Atrocity,” Roa said with barely restrained pride.

  Atrocity. An imposing name. I had long understood that Pandas thought themselves the “bad guys” and did their utmost to hold up to this title. The castle truly was impressive, however, worthy to serve as the abode of a demon lord, its gates shaped like an open dragon maw.

  Crimson fires flickered in the holes of the arrow-slits, and five juggernauts hovered above its spires enveloped in the bluish bubbles of Domes. Smaller Pandorum-owned ships moved around the Shard, and I could see packs of birdies.

  The Stormbringer was the sixth to moor, casting its monstrous anchor. Roa, my guide/guard for the day, summoned a protodragon and gestured toward its saddle.

  Upon approaching the Shard, I got an unusual message in the log. Apparently, its aura corrupted active effects and applied new ones.

  You entered the abnormal zone of the Astral Plane! Attention: attributes changed! You might experience loss of current archetype! Spells and skills are unstable!

  Resistance to all types of magic increased by 22%.

  You are under the effect of Dread: -20% to all attributes.

  Cooldown of Dark spells decreased by 50%.

  Cooldown of Light spells increased by 200%.

  Random spell transformation chance increased to 10%.

  After seeing the Panda stronghold from the inside, I realized why Jerkhan had vouched for me. If not for him, I would have been killed there — maybe accidentally, but most likely, simply to get a fresh frag. Still, as an ally of Pandorum, all I got were curious silent stares. The fortress’ corridors were buzzing with English and German speech: the bulk of Pandas consisted of Australians and Europeans, Germans, and people from the Northern Alliance. The Steel Guard were the only Russians of the twelve clans.

  I was escorted by four members of Jerkhan’s squad, including Roa and the man himself. For a while, we walked along dark passages, leading down, and finally found ourselves in a big, dimly lit hall. In its center, there was an odd contraption that looked like a canary’s cage, only many times as big.

  I only recognized the respawn point by the distinctive ornament engraved on the edge of the round platform. It was covered with a steel grate. Upon closer examination, I noticed lots of sharp spikes pointing inward and a closed door. A few bored Pandas armed for battle kept watch at the resp point. The “cage” was surrounded by a line of weird lanterns that consisted of thin metallic fixtures with three-fingered claws holding amber magic gems. Those stones were pulsating pale yellow light.

  “Come up and place your Soul Eater on a glort!” Jerkhan bellowed, pointing at the nearest lantern. The Pandas around the resp point livened up and lazily cleared the way. It seemed that they knew the procedure well enough.

  After making a few steps forward, I carefully touched the amber gem with the blade. Nothing happened. I turned to Jerkhan, confused.

  One of the Pandas barked something in English and laughed. The second one joined in. I got the gist, no need for a translator. I opened the sword’s interface. True, there was a new option: Release Absorbed Souls. When I removed the blade from the gem, it disappeared. I returned it, and it was back.

  Attention! No Soul Well found! Released souls will be transported to the nearest respawn point. Are you sure you want to do it? Yes/No

  And the nearest point was here, in the cage, under the Pandas’ watch. An interesting idea. All right, then. Time to finish this business.

  The flaming sword flashed blue, and lines about NPCs released from the sword filled my log. A stream of ghostly shapes poured out of the blade, scaring me, and I couldn’t make out any details. Having left their prison, they flew around the hall in a mad dance, and the respawn circle sucked them in, like a whirlpool. The whole process took less than a minute, and at last, all ghosts were caged. I looked at the sword’s stat block. It had zero souls inside, all of them gone.

  So, that was it. But when I turned back to the Steel Guards, I was met with a reddish flash. Blinded and dazed, I completely lost my bearings. Where was up? Where was down? An instant later, I felt a stab of pain in my stomach.

  Jerkhan cast Stun on you. You are stunned and dazed for 10 seconds!

  Roahildorn dealt you 313 damage! Roahildorn dealt you 247 damage!

  You are dying! 60 seconds left till final death! 59…58…57…

  The effect of Stun dissipated, and I saw Roa and Jerkhan standing above me. The girl shook off blood from the blade of her katana and said, disappointed, “Is he made of cardboard? It took only two hits! Hey guys, are you going to join in for the kill?”

  You are dead.

  You lost 6610 XP. Current XP: 59492/150000

  You lost Fine Leather Vambrace. You lost 23 gold 74 silver coins.

  You are under the effect of Death Penalty: -10% to all attributes, duration: 10 minutes.

  Do you wish to respawn?

  I found myself inside the respawn circle, in the cage, among the spectral NPCs I had just released from the sword, and immediately stared at the Steel Guards who came up to the bars.

  “Nothing personal, HotCat,” Roa said, grinning.

  “Now, we’ll talk!” Jerkhan roared, baring his teeth.

  Chapter 3

  Your reputation with Pandorum Alliance was decreased to Enemy.

  SONS OF BITCHES. Although, no need to offend dogs. My first thought was to contact the Watchers. After all, it was their task I was handling, let them sort it out. Still, I discarded that idea. I didn’t want to run crying for help, like a baby. And what would the Watchers do, anyway? I was in the Astral Plane, inside the stronghold of the most powerful alliance of Sphere. They couldn’t help me.

  I tried using a Soul Stone to get away. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work. I already knew enough about respawn wars in the game to realize that there was a stonejammer installed somewhere close, an artifact blocking portal magic around itself.

  Essentially, it was the perfect trap. The killed player resurrected at the nearest resp point, where a special team waited for them, and unlike an ordinary revival circle that you could flee from when the gankers grew tired of waiting, the cage in the depths of Atrocity seemed inescapable. So, what could I do? I wasn’t going to become corporeal — I saw that at least two mages were aiming at me. They would one-shot me in a few seconds, that seemed clear.

  HotCat: I won’t forget how you kill those you’ve vouched for. In the back.

  Jerkhan: Rules are for pussies! Might makes right!

  Jerkhan: Your sword, the Soul Eater! Give it up yourself, or you’ll be stuck here until we beat it out of you!

  HotCat: It’s useless. Haven’t you heard about personal items?

  Jerkhan: Gimme a screenshot as proof and all information about your sword. Then we’ll let you go.

  * * *

  Without a word, I exited Sphere and climbed out of the capsule. I needed to pull myself together. Let them wait and grow bored in the meantime, while I’m cooling my head. After ordering Magic Home to brew me the strongest coffee it could manage, I turned on classical music and went out to the balcony, the cup in hand.

  We lived on the eighth floor, and Alena had long since created a mini-garden there, with lots of potted plants. There was also a small grill there, so we could arrange a barbecue. I sat in a wicker chair and slowly sipped coffee. It was getting warm outside, with May coming on in full force. I heard the muffled chirping of birds and noticed that the trees were turning green.

  So that was the deal: the Pandas had set their sights on my sword and were going to learn everything they could about it, having lured me into a primitive trip. I hadn’t expected them to be so ruthless: they didn’t care about their reputation or the agreement. That’s Pandas for you.

  Still, that action seemed way too crude. Were they using scare tactics? Basic gameplay logic suggested that the situation was wrong at i
ts core; after all, it could be used to hold a player indefinitely. There must be a way out. I could contact the Magister, of course, ask him for advice, but it seemed like too small of a deal to bother him, especially since I was already in his debt for Goggy. Nope, I needed to handle this myself.

  I pulled out my communicator and went online. The official forum, Pandas, resp point... I didn’t think I was the first to be caught by Pandorum; I had to learn more.

  After spending an hour browsing through the forum and drinking a few cups of coffee, I sank back into the chair, weary. In short, owning a resp point in the Astral Plane was a cheat in itself. The developers had never intended for that place to have such points, but they also weren’t going to remove it. That seemed pretty shady. The Pandas didn’t have a damn about the opinions of whiners on the forum and systematically farmed everyone they got their hands on. Escaping the cage was impossible, other than to fight your way out, which seemed pretty far-fetched. Admins did pull Pandorum’s victims from out of there, but only after getting a petition, and reviewing it always took a day or two. Until then, it was hopeless.