Shadow Seer (Rogue Merchant Book #3): LitRPG Series Roman Prokofiev (great books of all time .txt) 📖

island was impossible—it was surrounded by a broad ring of stalagmite reefs. However, a boat should be able to navigate it, and I didn’t need anything more. The rocky beaches between the glistening heaps of cliffs were strewn with bones of all shapes and sizes: many-eyed skulls, giant ribcages, long vertebrae. All skeletons belonged to the strange creatures of the Sea of Terror, and formless ghosts that looked like ribbons of mists wandered around them.

“Dread level is off the chart,” Bonus said. “Eight points! If not for Guardian’s crystal, we would have never gotten close.”

“Yes, mapmaking’s canceled,” Fayana said with a sigh. “HotCat, are you sure you want to go ashore? I don’t think it’s a good idea. Max Dread! How much Estel do you have?”

“Four,” I told her the truth. I couldn’t exactly mention my unique Dread immunity to essentially random acquaintances. What two know, the whole world knows, my father used to say. If this information found its way online, everyone would whine about imbalance, and I would become a subject of intense focus. They’d never let me hear the end of it.

“Four isn’t enough to break through max Dread,” Fayana said, perplexed. “I have a one-point amulet. I can give it to you. Too bad we don’t have a bard...”

I nodded earnestly—yes, ballads gave a nice boost to Estel—and said, “No need. I can handle it.”

“The island looks like a dormant volcano,” Bonus said slowly. “See these smooth streaks? It’s frozen lava. Places like that might have fire and stone elementals.”

“All I can see are ghosts.”

“Those aren’t ghosts. According to our Almanac, those are undead, spectral nightmares. Third-class threat. Life drain, psionic stab, spectral touch. Do you know how to fight them?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll go past them via Shadow Plane,” I replied and laughed at the Pioneer’s long faces.

“Don’t worry about me so much! I’ll try to be quick.”

“You promised to film a video,” Fayana reminded me.

The island was full of shadows, big and small. I shamelessly used their eyes to look around the bone-strewn coast and the foot of the mountain. Shadow Eyes couldn’t reach beyond that, but I still found something interesting. A rough semblance of a road ran to the top, coiling around the dormant volcano. If anything at all was hidden in that dreary spot of land, it was hidden there.

Time to get it over with.

* * *

After landing, I almost immediately activated Shadow Run and quickly traversed the small area full of mumbling ghosts. I didn’t want to fight them, and Fayana was adamant that the only signals on the island originated from the coast, while the interior was clear. A narrow footpath led upward. It looked like nobody had walked it for quite some time. As I traveled through the Shadow Plane, I scanned more and more shadows through the grey curtain, using their eyes to look for anything unusual. At last, I got lucky, seeing a dark crevice, the mouth of a tunnel, almost at the very top, right under the obsidian perch. Had I finally found it?

The cave was dimly lit by the green light of luminous mildew growing on the low ceiling. The tunnel was round and clearly small, even if its corners were concealed in darkness. Shadows told me that it was completely empty, and I could safely enter.

Inside, in the center, I found a round-shaped fireplace built from charred stones. It was well-used, judging by the cinders, burnt coals, and a pile of old ash. Several kitchen utensils were scattered nearby—a kettle, a tripod, a mug, fragments of broken jugs. Traces of ever-present dampness indicated that it had been some time since their owner was there last.

One of the corners of the cave hid a pile of fuel—driftwood, shriveled mushrooms, and dried algae—while another had an ancient stone bed on a small elevation, still displaying the contours of the human body. An empty chest with an open lid stood next to it. With an effort, I discovered a few more traces of human presence: a broken knife, an axe handle, an empty potion vial.

It was obvious that someone, most likely Svechkin, had been there—and that he was long gone with all of his belongings, including the Compass. The island was too small to hide, and seekers couldn’t detect any signals except for the ghosts. The conclusion was clear: Svechkin wasn’t there anymore. As for where he went, it was a big question. So what was I to do? Contact the Magister?

I sensed movement and immediately turned around. A familiar figure came inside the cave, bending slightly. He was dressed in leather armor and a hat, his face bandaged. Rocky? How had he gotten through the Dread surrounding the island?

“How did you get here? What happened? Where are the others?”

“Don’t worry; they’re safe on the ship.” Going by the Gravekeeper’s tone, he was smirking. Rocky seemed at ease and relaxed, and suddenly, I got an inkling that Dread didn’t affect him at all. But...it couldn’t be!

“You were looking for someone here, weren’t you, Cat?” Rocky said as he stepped closer. “Consider it done.”

“What do you mean? This place is empty, don’t you see that?”

“Wise up. I know that you were sent by the Magister. You wouldn’t have learned about the Isle of Madness yourself. What does he want?”

I was taken aback. Rocky knew about the Magister? The puzzle slowly came together: the Gravekeeper’s unusual behavior and knowledge, the bandages on his face, the way he kept glancing at my sword, the constant questions about me...

So Rocky was Svechkin? If felt impossible—no, absurd. Why would he join Thrainul’s team and sail the Abyssal across the underground ocean? That seemed odd.

“I see. You can’t make sense of everything.” I heard Rocky’s voice. “Let me show you something.”

The Gravekeeper approached one of the cave walls, abruptly wiped off the mold