The Gene of the Ancients (Rogue Merchant Book #2): LitRPG Series Roman Prokofiev (top ten books of all time .TXT) 📖

taken just thirty years to happen. We had already gotten used to living in an age of permanent global warming and mass migration in the center of the continents. The news of advancing oceans was mainstream, with hundreds of thousands of people mastering new professions. The impact of the days when humans had realized they couldn’t protect themselves against nature had changed our world.

The Courier beeped, informing me of a new message. It was clan mail saying that in an hour, a carriage would be sent to Eyre for Liberty recruits.

The time had come.

* * *

 

A small astral ship belonging to the clan quickly transported us to the Cloud Castle. I noticed a few more sailing vessels on the flying docks around Condor, hidden amidst the clouds. It was rumored that the Northern Alliance and the Watchers, especially after the visit of Pandorum, were busily building their own air fleet.

The rows of seats around the training area that reminded me of a small amphitheater were almost full. Almost three hundred Watchers were present, which made sense, considering what a show they were anticipating today. Each of them had once passed a similar trial.

Eleven of us were standing on the sand of the arena; eleven, picked from the half a hundred initial recruits. The rest had been eliminated from the running. Some had been unable to survive the rigorous training, some had turned out to be weirdos, some couldn’t spend enough time online and improve their battle skills quickly enough.

Actually, I wasn’t especially keen on becoming a veteran warrior, either. I was accustomed to a different playing style, but my cautious attempt to talk to Komtur had resulted only in him snorting scornfully and telling me that there would be no weaklings in his clan.

It didn’t matter what you were, a trader or a scroll-maker, a portal builder or a minster: you had to be a pro fighter, no “buts.” Such was the clan philosophy.

Yep, Watchers were a pretty hardcore clan. Many wanted to join them, but few could make it. Only those who lived inside Sphere met their requirements; you had to be a seasoned combatant who had mastered all necessary weapons, a PvP killing machine, ,who most importantly, had the requisite temper. Carebears, the players mostly interested in farming dungeons and mobs, would never be embraced by the clan. PvP forever! It was the Watchers’ main line of activity.

Balian the Raccoon took the floor. He was our boss, the leader of Liberty. In a few words, he congratulated us on finishing the training and explained the rules of the exam.

Each of us would fight a random opponent from the audience — one of the Watchers: in melee, at a distance, and in the saddle. We were unable to use buffs, potions, enhancements, and archetype abilities and would be restricted to wearing the same gear without any bonuses. Only plain iron could show our true skill.

The winners had to win two fights out of three. The only advantage the newbies got was choosing their weapon second, which allowed them to pick a counter against their opponents. It was a huge perk, which also probably tested the recruit’s tactical thinking ability.

I felt ill at ease. True, I had dueled at the Eyre arena thousands of times and knew most of my potential adversaries, plus had the benefit of Liberty practice battles. Still, against a pro, I had managed to win two or three times out of ten, and mostly thanks to my luck. As for archery combat...now that was shameful. I had always been one of the worst among the academy when it came to handling bows and crossbows. In short, I very much doubted that I could pass the exam. Anxiety crept up my spine.

Nico got to be the first to fight. Komtur launched a random pick of an opponent, and in a few seconds, a nickname appeared in the chat: Tooth. I didn’t know that player.

Nico was one of the best Liberty recruits. He was a veteran player who had almost a year in another clan under his belt. He had had pretty advanced skills even before the training, and under Balian’s tutelage, he managed to grow several times as strong. Now, Nico was one of the pro fighters who could easily match one of the full-fledged Watchers.

I don’t know if Tooth was a middling combatant or Nico was at the top of his game, but our headliner smashed the Watcher to pieces, leaving no chance for him to resist. Balian clapped him on the shoulder, a wisp of a smile on his face, and Nico, beaming, climbed over the railing and sat among the clan warriors, now one of them.

Shaga was next. He was to fight Brontosaurus — a powerful opponent, a frequent customer of the tilt-yard in Eyre. Still, Shaga was no weakling himself: a seven-foot-tall sapphire orc favoring warhammers. His strongest points were power, speed, and aggression. But here, he met his match. Unexpectedly, Shaga lost the melee battle, then won archery, and barely defeated Brontosaurus in mounted combat. Two against one: he passed.

I was surprised at Valkyrie’s performance. She was the third. I worried for her, but Maria, after predictably losing the swords, calmly won the mounted challenge and crushed her opponent in the shoot-out. As an archer, she was one of the top players I knew, matching some of the top Watchers, even.

“Svenn coached her well lately,” Flame whispered to me. “He’s a pro when it comes to horses. Helped me, too...”

“So, where’s he? Did he change his mind?”

Flame shook his head. Svenn had left Liberty after the incident with the PROJECT, disappointed in the clan. Too bad; he seemed like a pretty smart guy. The Watchers had lost a player with a true gift for mounted combat; even the teachers were envious of his skill. But nobody was going to persuade