Battle for the North (Rogue Merchant Book #4): LitRPG Series by Roman Prokofiev (the dot read aloud .TXT) 📕

and more dangerous. At that moment, Hird was definitely one of the biggest players in Sphere politics. They constantly farmed Helt Akor, controlled a part of the Bazaar market, and owned an entire continent in the arctic world of Berg. Their power reached even the Forgeworlds and the upper layers of the Netherworld. They also had a large astral fleet and were rumored to have acquired a juggernaut. The Hirdmen had no holdings in Dorsa but maintained neutral or cordial relationships with most local clans.

It was a representative of Hird whom Olaf had told me to meet in one of the Bazaar’s towers. Dar, Dar...that name rang a bell. Oh, right, the Club chat. It included a Hirdman, too. A trader?

I had no idea what Dar was doing at the Bazaar, but his VIP suite on the seventeenth floor easily outclassed mine in size and luxury. Did he have a Diamond account, too? Everything was gilded, marbled, and decorated with expensive gemsteel. Two Forged sentries guarded the entrance. When I came in, the owner was devouring a hookah, surrounded by a cloud of steam. The air was full of the characteristic sweet odor.

“Want some?” he grumbled instead of a greeting. “It clears the head.”

I fell on the opposite seat, conspicuously studying the Hirdman. They had their own shtick — the key members of the alliance liked to play as characters of underground races: gnomes, dwarves, and zwergs. Dar was a frail-looking gnome with a host of red braids, an intelligent face, a long nose, and old-fashioned wire-rimmed glasses that made him look like an intellectual.

“HotCat? Clan trader of the Watchers? Nice to meet you!” the gnome said. “Olaf told me about your visit.”

“We know each other,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “We’ve met in Helt Akor.”

I remembered his nickname. I had seen it both in the Club chat and the conversation among the Watchers when we fought Hird on the Endless Paths. “Oh, this is Dar, our old friend!” Olaf said when our target callers marked the Hirdman who summoned the avatar of Trogg. So Dar was that True Priest whose weapon got broken by Abel? What a curious meeting.

“Really? Perhaps,” the gnome replied after a short pause, adjusting his spectacles. “I don’t remember you...but it doesn’t matter. I hope you’ve come prepared. One shouldn’t risk losing objects like this one.”

I nodded, and with a flick of the wrist, Dar pulled out a small intricately decorated vial sealed with a fancy golden cork shaped like a demon maw. Thick crimson liquid effervesced inside, pulsating like a beating heart.

Elixir of Racial Metamorphosis

Quality: legendary. Crafted by Dar the Wind

Effect: ????

Whoa, a legendary elixir? Unique items like that never ended up on the market. The ingredients cost a fortune, and only Grandmasters with maxed-out Alchemy could actually brew them. Such elixirs were crafted to order, their ingredients provided by clients. The effects were usually incredibly powerful, and in this case, they were described as question marks. Were the results of drinking the elixir unpredictable? Racial Metamorphosis... The leaders of Phoenix and the Northerners had mentioned that name while discussing their tactics against Ananizarte. They also spoke of Divine Blood and Demon Blood, the latter of which Olaf had once fawned over.

In Helt Akor, we had obtained two samples of Supreme Demon Blood, one from Daine and the other from the Succubate’s Consort, whose crown I inherited. Olaf took the first, but the second was still gathering dust in a quiet corner of a Golden Hamster safety deposit box. It looked like a frozen clot of crimson liquid that softly glowed from the inside. I put two and two together and realized that the key to solving the Blood puzzle was sitting right in front of me.

“Why can’t I see the effect?” I asked, studying the elixir while holding it against the light.

Dar chuckled, returning to his hookah.

“Listen, HotCat, or whatsyourname,” he said in an annoyed tone. “What kind of question is that? The effect will be determined when it’s drunk. Olaf knows this.”

“I take it you brewed it, right? I have an interesting proposal for an alchemist.”

Dar let out an uncommitted chuckle, huffing his hookah. His entire look screamed, “Get away from here with your stupid proposals!” But when I linked him several items left from the Guardian — those without a price I was thinking of selling to the highest bidder — the gnome froze with the hookah holder in his hand.

“Hmm. Hmmm. Hmmm!” he said after a short pause. “Where did you get it? Do you have more?”

“I do,” I said, smiling. “But I’ve already put some of that for sale.”

“Remove it immediately. I’ll buy everything. If you have a supply channel, we might discuss a partnership.”

We might discuss it, of course, or we might not. I was very curious about the Blood and the elixir and also worried about a certain touchy subject. I made it clear to Dar that I was willing to work with him — as long as the gnome told me about the Blood and the effects of the Racial Metamorphosis elixir while keeping it secret from my clan leaders. In turn, I guaranteed him complete confidentiality. Of course, there was a risk he might sell me out to Olaf, but what could the Prophet charge me with? Compulsive curiosity?

“Well, it’s not actually a secret,” the Hirdman said after some thinking. “You guessed right that the Blood is the key ingredient of the Metamorphosis. We’re just not sure if this effect is a bug, so it’s better to avoid drawing the admins’ attention. You get me, do you? The fewer logs, the better.”

After that, he told me the rest. The Blood had only one property, but it was extremely powerful. The Racial Metamorphosis elixir could change a player’s race picked at character creation — or, rather, make the player a half-breed,