The Gene of the Ancients (Rogue Merchant Book #2): LitRPG Series by Roman Prokofiev (top books to read TXT) 📕

Finally, it dawned on me. Those friendly guys arrived from the good old days of COSMOS ONLINE. After the admins had identified and banned all real money traders, including me, they had also deducted double the amount of the purchased money from the accounts of all players buying it illegally, sometimes making it negative. Goggy represented the alliance that used to be one of my major customers, and the sums they had been dealing with were pretty serious.

After recovering from the blow, I tried to break free. No dice; they had a death grip. Blood from my smashed lip dripped onto my chest, smearing my new shirt. Bastards.

“Go ask Nick from COSMOGOLD,” I spit under his feet, my saliva red and viscous.

“You don’t get it, do you? We don’t give a damn about your Nick. We were working with you! He’s nobody, deal with him yourself. Got it, hustler?”

“I don’t owe you anything. Forget about it, or sue me.”

“What? Sue you? Kitty boy, did we hit you too hard? Are you a basket case now? Do you think I came here to talk?”

Goggy’s henchman seemed to be more and more worked up. His face was red with anger, and he was clenching and unclenching his fist. And then, his blond friend chimed in, “See, Cat, the deal’s simple. We know who you are, what you are, where you live, where you park your car. Lots of idiots around. Would be a shame if any of them broke your legs in a dark corner with a crowbar, or your pretty car burned down in the yard,” he nodded toward my white Toyota, squeezed between their two cars. Or if something happened to Alena on the way back. Think for yourself, do you really need these problems?”

He slipped a piece of paper folded four times into my chest pocket.

“It’s the amount and the account number. You have two days!”

* * *

Thank God Alena wasn’t home. After taking a shower, I examined my face in the mirror, touching my teeth with my tongue. Thankfully, they seemed fine, and I had gotten off with a smashed lip — a pretty great outcome, considering the power of that blow. I was shaking a bit. Still, I tried to calm myself down and consider the situation.

Of course, I wasn’t going to pay off those scumbags. I hadn’t expected anyone who had gotten the short end of the stick in COSMOS to ever get to me. I wondered how they had found me, as I had always kept my real profile secret. Very few people even knew that I lived in Kazan; somebody must have helped them. My only lead was COSMOGOLD. Apparently, it was good old Nicky who had delivered me to Goggy — he had known where I lived, after all. One more reason to have that bastard. Whatever; I would make him remember me. Vague thoughts about dealing with him almost crystallized into something of a plan. I just had to put some time and effort...

All right, then. Going by his attitude, Goggy was clearly prepared to make good on his threats. Back when I had played COSMOS, I had known something about him: he was a pretty unpleasant fellow, stubborn and angry, who had dragged his alliance to the top by hook or by crook. I needed to solve that problem, and I needed to do it fast.

My first thought was to contact the police. But what exactly did I have in the way of evidence? Unsupported threats and caked blood on my lip? I needed proof that it had been done by them and not by my face hitting a table. I had no witnesses and no recordings. Those sons of bitches knew their business — they had caught me late at night, when I was alone, probably having picked that moment for our alone time.

The doorbell rang, interrupting my contemplations. The communicator screen displayed “Unknown caller.” Somebody was calling me via the Courier, a super popular online messenger that had replaced its predecessors and supplanted mobile telephony. Who could it be? I was already having a bad day; anticipating another problem, I put the comm against my ear.

“I’m listening.”

“Hi, Cat.” The soft, calm voice seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

“You haven’t logged into Sphere for four days, so I decided to call you up myself. Have you considered my offer?”

I couldn’t understand who was calling. My head was full of my squabble with Goggy. Into Sphere? What offer?

“I’m sorry, but who is this?” I asked after a pause.

“Haven’t you recognized me?” the voice laughed dryly. “It’s the Magister.”

“Is this some kind of prank?”

My thoughts were frantic. How could the Magister, an NPC in a video game, even if he considered himself a digital copy of a developer, call my comm in the real world? That wasn’t possible. But who else could know about our private conversation?

“I see you’re surprised. That’s understandable. But it’s really me. We talked about the Seven Brothers, remember?”

“Yes. But how could it be?”

“You mean my call? What’s so amazing about it? You can call your friends via Courier when they’re playing Sphere, and vice versa.”

“But you’re an NPC,” I said, confused.

“Oleg, my boy. If my avatar looks like an NPC, it doesn’t mean that I’ve lost all connection to the outside. I still have a lot of friends left there. They’re helping me. I hope that you and I will become friends as well. I’m looking after you.”

“Umm...what do you mean?”

“For instance, I know about the sudden visit of Sphere’s marketing team to your home. What did they want, by the way? Use your sword in a commercial? I hope you were wise enough to keep our shared secrets private.”

“Yes,