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

“So you got me at last,” Khaman grumbled, rubbing his chest. “How about that. So, bows?”

The rules of archery combat were simple. Two players stood at the opposite sides of the area within shooting distance, armed with only a common bow and forty arrows. Movement was allowed only within the arena.

I was a terrible shot. I’ll be honest, I never really liked shooting. Sphere had a non-target system, and arrows didn’t fly straight, so getting the hang of it required a lot of effort. I had seen archers training — they had to spend hours firing at moving targets. It was a slog, but the results were impressive: top archers could one-shot their targets at full speed.

When the duel started, I immediately rolled over to the side. My decision proved correct: an arrow hit the sand right where I had just been standing. Another tumble, then again. I stood up, located Khaman, nocked an arrow, picked the lead time...

Bang! A hard-hitting blow knocked me down, coloring my view bright scarlet.

The duel is over.

Winner is Khaman.

I didn’t even feel any pain. The Watcher had killed me with a headshot. A critical hit, instant death. QED. I hadn’t fired even once...

“One-one!” Balian announced. “The third duel will decide the result. Bring in the horses!”

I watched carefully to see what weapon Khaman would pick for the mounted combat. His choice wasn’t surprising: a long cavalry spear and a small kite shield. He summoned his mount — the rules allowed only standard horses, no rare and epic mounts — and circled the arena.

I had prepared a risky plan for this case. In a direct battle, spear against spear, I didn’t stand a chance against a more experienced and skilled opponent, but if I used guile...

Without a pause, I snatched two packs of jerids from the stand, eight in total. I didn’t take anything else. Generally, I was better with throwing weapons compared to bows. Even Lorindale had praised me a few times. Maybe I could make it.

Snowflake neighed playfully, greeting her master. Don’t let me down, baby!

The duel commenced. Khaman charged forward on his horse, swiftly gaining on me. The sharp tip of his spear shined brightly. I waited for him to come up, and when he was dangerously close, sharply bid Snowflake to step aside. Khaman flew right past, and I threw a jerid at him, aiming at his massive body.

I missed. The Watcher deftly clung to the saddle, and the thin shaft went right above him. Oh, come on! I had only seven left.

Staying at a safe distance, I started raining jerids on my opponent. After he caught the second one with his shield, I realized: this tactic wouldn’t work. I had to kill his mount. That seemed to work out better. Avoiding a direct confrontation, I moved left and thrust three javelins into his horse, one after another, Dark stains appeared on its croup and hips, and large drops of blood dripped down on the arena sand. With a pitiful neigh, Khaman’s horse stumbled, ran a few more steps, and finally collapsed, throwing its rider down.

That’s when I made a mistake. I wanted to finish the duel gracefully by knocking down the enemy — who was still on the ground — with my mount and finishing him off with a jerid. But I failed. Somehow, he got up very quickly and met my attempt with a sharp strike of his spear. Snowflake cried and reared up, flinging me down. Khaman charged at me, his spear high.

I had three jerids left and no time to scramble to my feet. The Watcher deflected the first throw with his shield and dodged the second one. At this rate, I would never reach him!

I rolled away, then again, evaded the sand-plowing jabs of his spear. Each time, Khaman missed me only by an inch. Only one javelin left; only one attempt. The sun gleamed on the metallic tip of his spear, flashing around me. The sun...

In two rolls, I turned my opponent opposite of the shining disk, then started to stand up, intentionally clumsy. Without any hesitation, Khaman struck at me from above and pinned me to the sand like a collector adding butterflies to his book. Yet I had enough time to fling a jerid at him first, aiming just above the shield, into the slit of his helmet where his eyes glistened. The sun blinded him, and he didn’t notice my move. One-shot! Slowly, Khaman collapsed, falling on his back, his health bar lost in an instant. I died five seconds later, but the system credited me as the winner, as the Watcher perished first.

The duel is over.

Winner is HotCat.

“Congratulations, Cat,” said Balian casually, giving me his hand. “Welcome to the Watchers!”

Not feeling my legs, I climbed over the arena railing and sat together with Valkyrie and Nico, getting a few pokes and friendly bumps from the Watchers along the way. Now, I was one of them.

An hour later, we bid farewell to our friends.

Only two had failed the test, Diareus and Helga. For Helga, it was expected. Despite being a good bard, she was inferior to almost all of Liberty when it came to battle training. She did her best, but she couldn’t make it. The girl was crying, not even hiding her tears. Balian told her she could try once more, in another group of recruits, as he would accept her, but Helga wasn’t sure she could go through with it.

Diareus, on the other hand, simply got down on his luck. He got an extremely powerful opponent: Pawnbroker, one of the toughest pros of the clan, who could easily match such veterans as Balian, Hermione, or Dimonicus. He easily busted Diareus up. I felt sorry for him; a jokester and a wisecracker, he was as worthy of being in the