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

damage. The one she was going to assume had amazing defenses, completely ignoring physical damage and significantly resisting elemental. It was also quite good at killing.

* * *

The raid smoothly turned around above the fleeing Irchi hordes, gaining altitude and firing back at small groups of draxes assembling nearby. However, they didn’t pose any danger — maybe only a slight inconvenience. We had scattered and routed the NPC army of the House of Darkness way too fast. They were famed for their tenacity! It smelled of a frame-up, a false retreat. Still, those were my own thoughts; we had raid leaders to decide our tactics and strategy.

A colossal blaze with a trembling fiery aura rose ahead of us just below the hillcrests. The booming sound was as loud as a dozen artillery batteries firing at once. A giant flaming bolide fell out from the clouds in front of us, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. Howling, it shot past us and crashed into the ground with a roaring blast. Belatedly, I realized that it was a frigate-sized airship completely engulfed in fire from topmast to keel. Whoa, who could have done that?

At last, we ascended high enough to see the Golden Fairs shrouded with smoke. Something unimaginable was going on between the hills and the city, on the hillcrest where we had first seen Ananizarte. I had witnessed a similar picture back in the Astral Plane, at the Panda fortress where the goddess broke free, but here, the battle was on even a grander scale.

The black-haired girl didn’t exist anymore, replaced by a gargantuan pillar, a swirling tornado of crimson-black fire that reached almost to the clouds. Wrapped in lightning bolts and engulfed in hundreds of spell auras, it spun around, sending out a mass of fiery tentacles and trying to pull in the airships that surrounded it in a wide circle. A few vessels rapidly descended toward the Fairs, smoking, while the others kept furiously firing from all on-board armaments. Thousands of mounted players flew around the fiery whirlwind, and each second, hundreds of spells slammed into Ananizarte’s new form, disappearing without a trace.

Footmen and horsemen approached her on the ground, interspersed with giant creatures resembling walking trees or mountain giants. There, combat was also in full swing — I couldn’t make out the enemy, but the goddess had clearly summoned some demonic creatures to help her. I had never seen so many players at once, and I probably wasn’t alone in that. The first videos were likely already being uploaded to V-Net...

Komtur: The target’s barely losing health. Is she invulnerable?

Evil Mook: She ignores physical damage and partially magic. Report’s already in the channel...

Evil Mook: Attention! We’re going to need max DPS. Everyone, prepare special arrows. Throw everything at her, don’t be greedy! Mages, prepare spells you got from clan storage. It’s now or never!

 

We were approaching the fearsome flaming tornado. At last, I caught it with my eyes, focusing and trying to estimate its health: 91%... The goddess’ health bar was still green, barely decreasing despite millions of incoming damage points. Jeez, how are we supposed to kill you?

There was a sure-fire way, of course. My flaming sword could capture Ananizarte’s soul once again, although I seriously doubted that I could get close enough to her. Back then, in Helt Akor, I had simply gotten lucky — the Soul Forge Gem procced, and the goddess was in her weak human form, not expecting an attack. The current situation was different. Also, as I understood, the allies wanted to kill her for achievements and loot. Nobody had asked me to interfere, anyway, and I was too humble to speak up. I’d rather wait and see.

Evil Mook: Attention, assist me, same target for the entire raid. Attack on command, max range. Five, four, three, two, one, fire!

 

The special arrow blessed by a priest of light hit the target, followed by the second and the third. It was impossible to miss. At the same time, giant spectral swords, lightning bolts, and lots of other spells struck her, their effects indistinguishable in the furious blaze around Ananizarte. The goddess’ health bar budged and decreased by half an inch.

Komtur: Wow, we got three percent! Come on, let’s do it again!

Olaf: Attention, information from an ally channel. They identified her through some legendary artifact. We’re studying the data.

Evil Mook: I see, thanks. What the hell? Why does she have so much mana? It’s impossible. Are the Phoenix draining her at all?

Olaf: Actually, she gained mana over time. The more damage we deal, the higher is her limit. Looks like a black healer ritual. We’re empowering her!

Evil Mook: [censored] stop damage! Stop damage, everyone!

Olaf: Too late.

 

* * *

As always, in the morning, Weldy worked in the alchemic laboratory. Condor, the castle of the Watchers, was usually all but empty at this time, and nobody bothered her, and that day, all the players left for some important battle. Peace and quiet...it almost felt like home.

The girl let out a sigh, bit her lip, and mixed together the leaves of aiceloth and elessar, crushing them in the mortar. She filtered the blend and poured the resulting juice into the distillate boiling on slow fire. The mixture sparkled with a pearlescent glow as a star stone slowly dissolved in the kettle. All that remained to do was to add crystalline powder, simmer for five hours, and the rare Melissa’s Tear elixir would be ready. It could neutralize any poison, restore all mana, and increase intelligence. Succeeding would be a small victory. In Eyre, the herbwomen gossiped that only elves could brew the Tear. Nonsense!

The boiling distillate suddenly bubbled, spilling out on the hissing fire. Glassware and potion vials on the shelves trembled. A vibration ran over the entire Cloud Castle from its foundation to the highest towers. Outside, something flashed, and Weldy heard alarmed cries and the flutter of wings.