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

by Roman Prokofiev

I couldn’t use Shadow Step from Tormis’ cloak, as the wily creature had ripped it off me together with the armor. Swinging the sword was impossible with my hands tied. So there was only one thing to do...

  Blazing Warrior! Immense heat seized me, the rivers of flame flowing down my veins. Debuff icons instantly faded away, and the chains disappeared upon coming in contact with true fire that was now my body. Daine jerked back in fear, trying to detach herself from me, but it was too late. I joined my hands behind her, pulling her into a tight embrace. You wanted to hug, wretch? Then get your wish!

  Critical hit! You dealt Daine, the Mistress of the Wandering Succubate, 324,000 true fire damage!

  Attention: Daine is a non-playing character of rank 5 who is unable to respawn. You destroyed the faction leader of Wandering Succubate! You receive 500,000 XP! You receive 1 free attribute point!

  Unique achievement unlocked: Slayer of Succubus Queen! You are the first player in Sphere to receive this achievement! You receive secret ability: Ascetic! You receive 999,000 XP! You receive 3 free attribute points!

  You destroyed an NPC of Supreme Demon class! Achievement unlocked: Slayer of Supreme Demons! You receive 100,000 XP! You receive 1 free attribute point! You receive...

  Aaaah! A host of voices hung in the air, and the entire flock set their sights on the empty spot where the Mistress of the Succubate had just stood. A second later, a crowd of spectral figures descended on the area occupied by the vanquished raid, becoming flesh. The Watchers had used Mass Resurrection, the clan ability allowing to revive fallen warriors once a day. The resuscitated fighters rallied together with a battle cry and charged in all directions, slaying bewildered demons with steel and magic.

  But I wasn’t looking at them or the succubi, who were scattering away in horror. Daine’s golden crown was lying under my feet. The Crown of the Mistress of the Wandering Succubate.

  Chapter 20

  THE CROWN of the Mistress of the Wandering Succubate was just next to me. Yet I wasn’t the only one to notice it. Several demonesses rushed toward it, madly screeching and trying to reach out for it with their clawed hands.

  In one sweep, Aelmaris drew a circle around me, shearing through the air with a buzz. I felt a slight resistance and saw a cloud of ash. For each death, the system gave half of the experience to me, and half to the sword.

  Souls eaten: +1! Souls eaten: +1! Souls eaten: +2!

  Seeing that they were drawn to the crown like moths to a flame, I grabbed it and threw it into my inventory, followed by Daine’s terrifying scourge and an odd substance pulsing with crimson — Supreme Demon Blood. There was no time to read the description. Battle raged on around me.

  Apparently, the succubi came in three types: those completely naked charmed players and dragged them away, the others — armed and wearing lacey armor — were pretty good at fighting, and the grey-skinned flying beasts functioned as tanks.

  The fight was short, but furious. They still exceeded us in numbers, even demoralized by their mistress’ death. The Watchers, on the other hand, were well-prepared, each of them protected by a Mind Shield, and the raid confidently took down the demons with dedicated damage type. Eventually, the enemies started to retreat, escaping through some strange portal magic that involved creating mini-pentagrams. Were they returning to the Netherworld using something in the vein of Soul Stones?

  I glanced at the stats of my sword. I had fed it pretty well. The XP bar passed over the center point, plus fifty-six absorbed souls. I was Hated by the Wandering Succubate and Hostile with the other Netherworld factions. Reputation decreased like greased lightning. They didn’t like me in the lower worlds anymore.

  “Were you the one to kill Daine?” Olaf asked, coming up. “Did you loot her?”

  “Holy shit!” he curtly commented on the loot as I showed it. “No, leave the crown. Give me the rest.”

  Torturer, the Scourge of Succubus Queen was an orange legendary-grade weapon. It gave tremendous bonuses to Strength, Constitution, and Charisma, and enabled Laceration and Persistent Injuries. The only drawback was that it was restricted to the Mistress of the Wandering Succubate. It was also a personal item with a “true possession” flag. In other words, it could be wielded only by the crowned ruler of the Succubate. And the crown...

  “We’ll discuss the crown in camp. Hide it and don’t show it to anyone,” Olaf said. “That would be better for everyone.”

  Olaf: Good job, everyone! Pick up the loot and let’s get moving!

  The hundred slain demons dropped lots of items, mostly rare. Two were even epic: some bracers and a thing resembling a chainmail bikini. A peculiar loot, but I had to admit it — the profits were nice, definitely worth the hard battle. Going by the raid leaders’ conversation, I concluded that the latest expedition to Helt Akor was the most profitable yet. But our goal wasn’t just money: the clan needed items to empower our warriors. We needed to keep moving and continue to farm.

  * * *

  Illith: They killed them!

  Tao: Hehe. I knew that Daine would deliver.

  Illith: No, the Watchers defeated the Succubate! And killed Daine, I think.

  Tao: Impossible. How?

  Illith: I didn’t get it. Very quickly. A one-shot, I think. When she was down, they mass resurrected.

  Tao: Hmm... Say, have you seen a player with a blue sword?

  * * *

  We continued our way down. After the sudden attack of the Succubate, everyone was in a hurry to leave the open space of the staircase between Layers. Several times on our journey, we stumbled on openings leading into new instances and sent scouts inside, but the RL didn’t like their reports, so we moved on.

  The light from the depths of the well grew brighter, and we felt a whiff of dry heat. Apparently, the bottom was covered in crimson black lava wreathed in a fiery aura. Dizzying spiral loops of the staircase finally led us down.

  The raid was standing in front of a giant triangular arch. It was intricately carved: the rocks around the entrance were decorated with symbols that I couldn’t place.

  Kann-Elo, the language of the Ancients. Requires “Kann-Elo Knowledge” to decrypt, the system helpfully told me. I wondered if we had anyone with that ability.

  The tunnel we followed next was quite different from any I had seen before. Like the entrance, it was triangular in shape, while the walls were perfectly polished, without any traces of masonry, cracks, or ravages of time. Like the Kann-Elo characters, it projected expertise and oddness.

  “Where are we going?” I asked Alex, who was walking by my side. “And who built it?”

  “We’re looking for the Crossroads. It’s the island of stability. As for who built it...” Alex sighed, a dreamy expression on his face. “According to the lore, the web of Endless Paths was built by the Ancients with the help of zwergs. This network connected all worlds of Sphere when there weren’t any portals yet. Later, at the end of their war against the gods, they made the Paths unstable and ever-changing, so as to hide their sanctuaries. Legend says there used to be surviving Ancient strongholds, and it was the last line of defense...”

  “So? What happened? Were the Ancients exterminated?” I asked hungrily.

  “Jeez, Cat, just read the background lore, it’s free,” AlexOrder dismissed me. “Everything’s there. Oh, here’s the Crossroads.”

  The Crossroads turned out to be a completely empty hall of colossal size leading into several other passages. It was shaped like a perfect half-circle and lit by yellow lights pouring out of hexagonal plates that were mounted on the walls in a fantastically precise manner. Once again, there were no cracks; everything fit flawlessly. As I looked at the wall paintings, I realized that the Ancients were no goody-two-shoes. They portrayed some grotesque Borgesian mixture of human bodies, heads, and hands and monstrous limbs, tails, and torsos. Humans also looked weird: they had elongated egg-like skulls, while most of the handprints had long serpentine fingers. All together, it evoked a dismal feeling of longing and creepine
ss due to the meticulous level of detail. The floor was covered by the same Kann-Elo characters composing a strange sequence that I couldn’t make out. The level of Dread reached the center of the bar — five points. I felt slight discomfort, as if I was mildly sick — that’s because I lost ten percent of my stats, as I only had four Estel points.

  As I understood, the Crossroads wasn’t an instance, but rather a lighthouse, a junction and a waystone on the Endless Paths. A subway station of a network, the branches of which constantly switched places. Staying there was dangerous, as another raid could arrive at any moment, and nobody could predict the outcome of such a meeting. Sometimes, two raids joined forces to farm hard dungeons together. Sometimes, they clashed, fighting each other in a merciless battle. We had to keep moving, search for new spots, and make camp. The expedition had already lasted five hours. We had planned for eight.

  * * *

  The route for further exploration of the Paths was chosen seemingly at random. The smooth surface of the Ancients’ creation soon gave way to ordinary caves. Twisting and narrowing, the tunnel led us down. Water sloshed under our feet, and the air started smelling sour. Giant bats dove at us from the ceiling, scaring the raid. We shot down six of them, all human-sized, but they didn’t drop anything of interest. Nothing indicated any trouble when one of our scouts suddenly sounded the alarm.

  Inker: A signal! Something alive! Its’ moving to me, very fast!

  Abbot: Calm down, you’re in stealth. Abel, Ox — back him up.

  Inker: I’m down! It sees stealth! It’s a rikhar, it’s coming for you!

  Abbot: A rikhar? (Censored) Scouts, retreat! I repeat, retreat! Raid, assume formation! Form a circle around the supports. Drink Giant’s Strength and Acid Resistance potions. Mages, Stoneskin on everyone!

  Komtur: How do we hit it?

  Abbot: Physical damage only! Magic and elemental heals it!

  I opened the bestiary and entered the name of the monster.

  Rikhar, a giant magical beast. Bred to kill dragons, it lives in the dungeons of the Endless Paths, hunting single targets and groups. A greedy and smart predator that poses a deadly threat from the moment of its birth. Possesses a number of unpleasant abilities...

  A second later, I saw it. The rikhar, which reminded me of a giant centipede, swiftly edged out from behind the corner and ran across the ceiling above us, deftly clinging to rocks with its numerous limbs. What a brute! Its long body was covered with a plate-like chitinous armor the color of a bright ultramarine gem, its maw resembled a crocodile’s, and the flexible tail was capped by a barb dripping with poison.

  Abbot: Broker, grab it!

  Pawnbroker, our main tank, rushed to the monster, taunting it by screaming and bashing it with his shield. The rikhar turned around, crawled from the ceiling to the floor like a snake, and immediately wrapped its body around Broker in several coils. The Watcher’s hits helplessly bounced off its carapace, and the rikhar, not paying any attention to the arrows and hits of the raid, squeezed the tank in its deadly embrace.

  Abbot: Healers, wake up! There are six of you, how did you lose him?

  Damian: It’s impossible, the damage is too high.

  The beast’s ultramarine hide kept easily deflecting missiles and spears. One of them managed to hit the space that momentarily appeared between two scales. The rikhar twitched, roared, flung the defeated Pawnbroker aside, and gracefully pattered across the wall with its many legs. Along the way, it spat a ball of green goo upon the raid.

  Abbot: Acid breath! Dispel the DOT, it decreases armor durability!

  Goldie: Too late, I’m dead.

  Abbot: Healers, (censored)! Get to work! Raise the dead!

  In the meantime, the monster killed one more player with its tail. It dealt incredible damage, one-shotting us while we couldn’t even penetrate its defenses. I could finally see why only raids could enter the Paths: a creature like that would crush a single player or a small group without even noticing.

  Olaf: Ebb, what’s our tactics? We can’t pierce its armor!

  Abbot: Why the hell are you hitting the carapace? Does marking Weak Spots go against your rules, Olaf? Aim at the eyes, the mouth, the openings in its armor. Get to work!

  Easy for you to say, I thought. With an extraordinary effort, having lost fourteen people, we had removed a third of the rikhar’s hit points. We were wearing it down, as its health barely decreased. Still, we had an advantage — our healers immediately resurrected the fallen warriors, and they returned to battle. The monster wasn’t fast enough — or smart enough — to finish off the players, even if the description listed it as sentient.

  Realizing the futility of its efforts, the rikhar once again ran up the ceiling above us, but instead of spitting at us or circling us while swiping its tail, it fell right on our heads!

  Now that was unexpected. Chaos erupted, and I was sent flying into the tunnel wall. I lost half of my hit points and hadn’t even managed to hit the monster with the carefully prepared Aelmaris.

  Abbot: Abel, the hounds! Popinjay, release the knights! Slow it down!

  Our last trump card came into play — the epic pawns of our clanmates. The spectral hounds clung to the rikhar like dogs to a bear, and Popinjay’s ten-feet tall knights, resembling the humongous mecha robots from Japanese anime, surrounded it, raising their weapons. Their interference allowed us to regroup.

  Only puddles of ectoplasm remained of the hounds, while the knights were turned into bent pieces of metal, but they had done their job: the monster hissed and writhed, having lost several limbs. Jagged cracks gaped open in its armor, ruptured by the knights’ warhammers, green acid blood bubbling out of them. The rikhar’s hit points entered the dangerous yellow zone.

  Abbot: Let’s finish it off! Aim at the holes!

  When the Watchers started hitting the revealed vulnerable spots, things started looking up. Having entered rage mode, the hardy creature almost scattered the raid, but we already knew its tricks and acted in a well-coordinated manner. The rikhar still killed a dozen players in its death throes before finally dropping on the ground.

  Abbot: Phew. Our casualties?

  Damian: Minus six. Inker, Lorindale, Nasgul, Flame, Tango.

  Reborn: Me too. We’re at the resp point. Should we go to you?

  Abbot: Yes, try to. Maybe you’ll get lucky.

  Those who hadn’t been resurrected in time had to repeat the entire journey once again, starting from the entrance to Helt Akor and down the stairs to the next Layer, passing the Crossroads. It was a long road, and there were no guarantees they wouldn’t meet a freshly spawned threat on their way.

  Komtur: So what are we waiting for? Let’s get to looting.

  The rikhar, whose disgusting corpse coiled up motionless in a puddle of poisonous blood, yielded a lot of valuables — almost a dozen purple-grade ingredients. Blood, brain, internal organs, bones, chitin — all of them were useful resources for high-level crafted items. Its scales, for instance, could be turned into highly durable yet light shields. The most valuable thing, however, was the essence crystal — Rikhar’s Heart, a translucent ultramarine sphere as if made from marble, an epic item granting invulnerability to elemental magic. There was a catch, though: its wearer got a permanent debuff, five points of Dread. Therefore, this item, equipped into the offhand slot, could only be used with Estel sets, making it useless in PvP.

  “A female,” Olaf said, turning away from the disemboweled beast. “Ovipositor’s empty. Let’s find a nest.”

  After an hour-long search in the branching tunnels, we located the nest. It was a long vertical chute. Getting inside proved to be a challenge: several players flew up there via Levitation, dropped ropes, and gradually pulled us up.

  The rikhar had settled in a dead-end rocky grotto. The smell there was awful. In the torchlight, we saw piles of corpses with traces of giant teeth. However, the Watchers scoured around the cave, carefully examining each nook and crevice. Lots of valuables could be found in the
lair of such a beast.

  Their guess proved true. Olaf was gently holding two bluish eggs glowing purple — epic items. They had been laid by the rikhar. That’s why the female was so fierce — she was guarding her offspring. According to my clanmates, the eggs would hatch small rikhars that could be tamed. Eventually, they would grow into epic flying mounts that could be ridden into battle. Combat stats of such birdies were one of the best in Sphere. A Storm Rikhar was able to overpower a protodragon.

  Among the bones, we found lots of Ancient Components resembling gears of various size. Then Flame, who was the most enthusiastic at scooping through the rubble, pulled out the main prize.

  It was a skeleton, or more precisely, a half of it above the waist. Going by its perfect teeth without incisors and the shape of its skull, it was an elf. He was dressed in a tattered scalemail, while the miraculously surviving baldric was fastened to a chest strap with a backpack and a longsword in a black sheath.