Battle for the North (Rogue Merchant Book #4): LitRPG Series Roman Prokofiev (best romance novels of all time TXT) 📖
- Author: Roman Prokofiev
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Evil Mook: [censored] All right, let’s leave with Soul Sto —
Many of tried activating the stones, but it was too late. We didn’t have the seconds of uninterrupted cast. Almost everyone cowered in the face of coming death. The giant comet ripped by Ananizarte from the sky fell on the Golden Fairs.
Boom! The sky reared up and hit the ground, smashing it into a myriad of fragments. Roaring fire filled everything around us, scattering us in a blink of an eye. The Greater Shield of Shadows that I had almost reflexively activated at the last second immediately burst like a raw egg hit by a hammer. Astronomic damage numbers popped up in the log, and all icons in our raid blinked and turned black. A massive one-shot!
You received 860 damage from Mesmer’s Sublime Comet! You are dead.
Do you wish to respawn?
I found myself at a resp point surrounded by other ghosts. In theory, we were supposed to be on the gate square, but I didn’t recognize the location, and the circle itself was strangely askew. The earth was charred black with crimson streaks, and fumes of sparkling smoke filled the air, hiding the remains of destroyed buildings. Where were we? What had happened to the city?
Komtur: [Censored], [censored]!
Olaf: [Censored], she destroyed the city.
Evil Mook: Wait, [censored]! Don’t respawn! Don’t leave the resp point!
Bara Norkins: What’s going on? Can anyone explain?
Olaf: It’s totally screwed up. It doesn’t make sense. Sublime Comet, an unranked terraforming spell. How is it even possible, [censored]?!
* * *
Ananizarte, who had regained her human form, smiled. The earth was shaking beneath her feet, and a huge mushroom-shaped cloud rose from the place where the Sublime Comet fell, disgorging a fiery rain of red-hot debris. The seafloor lay bare in place of the bay. A colossal wave with a head of snow-white foam pulled away from the coast in a half-circle, burying the scurrying ships.
When smoke slightly dissipated, it became clear that the Golden Fairs were gone. All that was left was a gigantic crimson-black crater with fire raging inside. Everything had perished — the double ring of ramparts, bastions, streets, squares, shops, and pillared palaces were nothing but ash. The only one to escape this fate was the Palace of the Archons, the central faction node shielded by the magic dome. After its defenses were destroyed, the building was temporarily invulnerable, and its spires still soared above the burning debris. Still, they wouldn’t last long.
After fire, water would come. It had surged back from the shore after the shockwave but was already rushing in, furiously cascading into the newly formed trench. As it clashed against the hot stones and fires, sizzling, the water started evaporating, and clouds of white steam engulfed the destroyed city. In several minutes, the Golden Fairs would become a perfectly round harbor, the spires of the Palace of the Archons looming on the seafloor among the ruins. Portal circles and respawn points for players and local faction would be underwater, and leaving them would be a big problem.
A series of sharp screeches came from above. The black swarm of drax riders was returning, rising above the hillcrests and flying toward the crater.
Ananizarte smiled. At the moment, the respawn circle that was about to be flooded had many, many players. Players had a strange ability — they could resurrect immediately. However, there was a downside to that. When they died, they lost some of their power.
When trying to leave, they would be forced to swim to the surface. The flying riders swirling above the water would meet them, confused and disoriented, struggling against a foreign element, with no ground under their feet...
They would kill players as many times as necessary to force them to leave.
* * *
Those who attempted to resurrect immediately burned to death. I could feel the bewilderment of thousands of players who suddenly found themselves at the resp point. The general chat was overflowing with messages in different languages, while our raid leaders exchanged worlds on Courier, perplexed.
Evil Mook: Don’t respawn! Is it so hard to understand? Fiery aura kills in two ticks! How are the Phoenix?
Komtur: Same as us, basically. Everyone’s shocked. They’re talking about petitioning admins, asking for a rollback. Morale’s at an all-time low.
Olaf: Understandable, a city was destroyed! Kill rating’s buggy, there are no logs yet, but it was a one-shot. The entire fleet was wiped out!
Yeah. For a second, I considered the administration’s reaction. It was an interesting situation. Basically, a faction with which players had spent years gaining reputation had fallen in one fell swoop together with an entire city with all of its civilian population, auction, warehouses, air piers, Golden Hamster office, player estate, and other property. The losses were probably measured in millions of gold. How were the admins going to sort it out? A grandiose scandal was about to break out, and I didn’t envy the customer support. They were going to have their hands full dealing with thousands of petitions.
Komtur: It’s a shitstorm out there. Hird left.
Crow: Do you see the scout reports? The draxes are coming back!
All of a sudden, we saw water. First, it was tiny rivulets that plowed through the molten ground, then boiling streams. Thick white smoke enveloped us, and the waterline rapidly rose, drowning everything. It was a full-scale flood! We were below sea level, and the Long Sea hungrily poured into the trench. In several
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