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

“So Brethren and Varangians are fighting, Watchers cannot interfere, and Heroes and Enemy don’t want to get involved. Am I right?” Crow snickered. “It’s ridiculous, gentlemen. Two clans are nothing against ten thousand orcs plus PROJECT.”

“Bring aboard the farmers. They want to fight, too,” the leader of Enemy smirked.

“We did try to use the farmers in PvP raids. Do you remember the result?” Komtur said sharply. The alliance leaders exchanged glances, and a shadow appeared on some of their faces.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Komtur chuckled, satisfied. “But I have an idea that will satisfy everyone. Now that we’re all finally gathered in one place, we can discuss it.”

“What are you talking about, Komtur?”

Olaf and the leader of Watchers looked at each other, and the analyst opened the door to let one more player into the hall.

* * *

 

I was having a bad day. As soon as I came down into the tavern, Kirana put a clay bowl of stew and a foaming mug of beer in front of me and a slender figure in a cloak of disguise sat down opposite me. I was starting to hate those robes, even if I wore one of them myself. Only people who had something to hide — namely, their nickname and status — used those.

I recognized the features in the shadow of the hood. A triangular chin, pink lips twisted in a smirk, piercing green eyes... That was Roahildorn, the associate of Jerkhan from Steel Guard. Pandorum. I didn’t expect anything good from them.

Under the table, I reached for the hilt of Aelmaris and slowly, inch by inch, started to pull it out of its sheath. That was bad. They had found Karn’s inn, my home in Eyre. I didn’t want to move. I liked the people there.

“Don’t twitch, Kitten!” she snorted derisively. “I just came to talk.”

I looked over the room. It was empty, except for two local NPCs, Kirana, who was bringing them their order, and the innkeeper behind bar. And yes, Roa hadn’t come alone. Next to the entrance, one more cloaked figure was sitting with his back turned toward me. It was a burly man, going by the build. Maybe an ogre.

As she noticed my tense stare, the girl gave a slight nod.

“I’m here on behalf of the Pandas, Cat. Not just the Steel Guard, but the entire alliance. We want to make you a proposal.”

“Thanks, but I’m already married,” I smirked in turn. “But hey, you’re real risk-takers. What do you think, should I beat you down myself or together with the guards?”

Roa laughed.

“Beat me down? You’re funny. Maybe you’ll hear me out first? We’ll always have time to duke it out later.”

“Talk.”

“I’ll be brief. You have an Eater. We need souls. Pandorum wants to work with you. We’re even prepared to have you join one of our clans. Abandon those local losers and come to us. Although it’s not mandatory. We can just buy souls from you.”

“A million for a hundred?”

“The terms are negotiable. What do you say?”

I had already considered that option. I suspected that sooner or later, the Pandas would offer me something like that. It seemed like easy money. However, for starters, eating souls dealt a heavy blow to my reputation with all NPC factions. After just a hundred, I lost five percent, and what would happen next? If I walked down that slippery slope, I would become a pariah, hated by all Sphere NPCs without exception. How would I keep doing what I loved — trade — in that case? Nope, no go. Second, I had received repeated warnings that the “procedural generator” could respond to soul eating in a very painful way. The Pandas had their own soul eaters; why weren’t they using them? The answer was clear: that was too dangerous and ripe with serious repercussions. That’s why they preferred to make a cat’s paw of other people, no pun intended.

“My answer is no. No souls.”

“Why?” Roahildorn asked in a sing-songy voice. “It’s such a good offer...”

“You know very well why.”

“Refusing us is dangerous, Cat,” she said softly, but with an obvious threat in her voice. “Very dangerous. We know who you are, where you live, who your friends are. Think about it. Remember, we care nothing about the rules and conventions of the game.”

“Neither do I,” I said as I leaned over the table and removed her hood. I was quite tired of that charade and her stupid threats. A red status flashed above the mercenary girl’s head, informing everybody that Roahildorn was a player killer and a wanted criminal. Kirana gasped and dropped the tray. Glasses rolled across the floor of the tavern. Karn cursed behind the bar, reaching for a weapon.

“We tried to play nice, but I see you prefer the hard way,” Roa hissed. “Dargesh! We’re leaving!”

The huge ogre jumped up, almost touching the ceiling with his head, and bared the fangs on his muzzle. With his size, he was blocking almost the entire passage. A black round shield with a jagged edge appeared in his left hand, while his right held a heavy, one-edged axe.

“Wait, you’ve forgot something,” I said. “You owe me.”

“We? Owe you?” Roa snorted.

“Exactly. A kill!”

With these words, I leaped up, trying to turn the table upside down and block her escape, and simultaneously lunged with my sword right at the green eyes glowing with anger. I heard dishes shattering, furniture creaking, and Aelmaris the Blue lit up only to hit the air, as the girl dodged in an incredible back flip, as if breaking in two.

“Karn, call the guards! Guards!”

Dargesh was already there. Like a bulldozer, he swept several tables and benches from his path, scooping them up in a giant pile that he planned to bury me under. His Strength value was astonishing. In