Path of Spirit (Disgardium Book #6): LitRPG Series

by Dan Sugralinov

  “Tangle..?”

  “Best eliminate him, whatever the cost!” Hinterleaf burst out. “There’s no way this will fly, kid! You’re tearing apart the foundations!”

  “Calm, chief, calm,” Yary said. “I’m sure Scyth has an explanation. Isn’t that right, kid? Come on, tell us that was a one-time artifact or an ability with a year-long cooldown.”

  “And why Nergal?” Blackberry asked. “What, you and he are friends now?”

  “Ha-ha!” I laughed unnaturally. “If it was an ability, you’d all have been back in the sandbox long ago. It was a one-time artifact. Not from Nergal, that part was an illusion. From another god. But, just to reassure you, I’ll tell you: I didn’t know what the effect would be. It’s random whether it lowers or raises levels, and by how much.”

  “Ah,” Hinterleaf sighed in relief, glancing with some pity at Mogwai as the druid came round. “Cancel the panic, then. Scyth, if that one-time artifact of yours turns out not to be one-time, don’t forget that we’re your friends.”

  With a clank of metal, Yary banged his fist twice against his breastplate:

  “For all eternity!”

  “And we love you very much,” Blackberry added with a pout and walked off into the shadows.

  The level 166 druid pulled himself up, shaking his head. He looked at us unseeing:

  “What was that? WHAT?” Mogwai’s gaze dimmed as he read the logs. His face went white. “Are you kidding me, Modus?!”

  Chapter 23. Punishment TV

  I RETURNED to Mengoza from the Modus castle, then gathered the boys and Irita in the tavern and told them of Fortune’s rewards, and of what I’d done to Mogwai. It wasn’t that they were in shock — they were used to surprises. But they still had to pick their jaws back up from under the table.

  Then Infect and I applied to enter the Demonic Games. As it turned out, all that took was answering yes to the message they’d sent through Dis mail. Before the start of the Games, we would all be gathered in the elvish capital, at the palace of King Eynyon, who would bless our journey and open the portal. But that was still four days away.

  At first I was worried that Kharinza would be captured while I was gone, but it turned out that global peace was declared for the duration of the Games. Enforced peace. No PvP! Which meant we had nothing to worry about.

  In theory, Crawler and Bomber could have tried their luck too, but they had things to do — clan business, raising reputation with Orthokon, insurance against the possibility that we had to catch the legates again. And Eileen was still at large, and we didn’t know what to expect from her. Certainly nothing good.

  Alongside Horvac and Hinterleaf, we decided to use one more trap in another Travelers castle, just in case someone found Eileen. Moving a player from point A to point B seemed unlikely to be taken as an act of aggression.

  Bomber was focusing on his divine quest chain. The depths would let him return to Kharinza any second if he needed to.

  Not knowing how long Oyama’s tuition would go on, I decided to take some time out and sleep for at least a few hours. I logged out of Dis.

  A little later, I listened to the news while I ate a late dinner, or an early breakfast. Roj was sprawled out in a chair next to me, staring at the door.

  All the Elites had gone dark and into hiding. No online streams, no comments. For a while, the undead scourge was lifted from Latteria, and, as it turned out, from the net. The only thing to remind us of Mogwai was a clip of an enraged Fen firing a shock weapon at an unlucky paparazzo who had crept onto the Elites’ base.

  The battles against the hordes of the legates’ high-level minions would have been hard, to put it mildly, without my pets, but Sharkon, Iggy, Storm and the Montosaurus tore the undead to pieces. There wasn’t much use from Crusher the wolf, but even he took part in the battles, gaining experience.

  The Montosaurus called a furore. Several players from the Ferals, whose castle I had helped to defend against Biancanova’s siege, had filmed the ancient dinosaur and uploaded the footage, which immediately went viral. Soon there were many videos like it.

  Not knowing how to contact me, journalists attacked the leaders of the preventers. Hinterleaf and Horvac made no comment on their collaboration with us, but rumors of the new alliance somehow got out, and now the people furiously discussed what to expect. A comment from the Disgardium Daily encapsulated the mood of the time:

  Juice_13 | +416k | 6 hours ago

  Modus, the Travelers and the Awoken together? Now I’ve seen it all. What next? Citizenship for all the inwinova? I dread to think what this trio of clans is capable of with a top Threat up their sleeve!

  Once I was done eating, I wished good-night to Roj and went to bed. But I couldn’t get to sleep for a long time. My head was full of fears, worries, memories. I was especially afraid for my parents. The more I thought of them, the more I thought they were in danger, and not hypothetical danger, but that they were already captured in a plot to blackmail me.

  My intuition had sharpened recently, so I called my dad, already imagining him and mom tied up in a cell. I mentally waved good-bye to my character. Dad didn’t answer. Just as I was about to hang up, the other side picked up and a familiar hoarse voice answered:

  “Alex? Why aren’t you sleeping? It’s night where you are… almost morning.”

  Mom muttered something in the background.

  “I had a nightmare,” I lied. “And called to make sure you guys are okay. That’s all, you can go back to sleep.”

  “Hold on, I’m giving the comm to mom.”

  I expected a lecture on the benefits of sleep, study and a good diet, but mom just thanked me for the call, wished me luck, said she missed me and hung up.

  Neither of them asked the obvious question; how long did they have to stay there?

  The conversation calmed me down, and sleep finally came.

  In the morning I awoke to my comm gently vibrating. A kind feminine voice whispered in my ear: Wake up, Alex… I lay there a long while, staring at the ceiling. I had no desire whatsoever to get up, do anything or go anywhere. I wanted one thing: to sleep more, and then to forget, get lost in a book or watch a new series.

  In the end I found a compromise — without getting up, I started going through my mail and messages. I checked my inbox and saw a message from Ian Mitchell. The journalist was asking whether I planned to comment on my alliance with Modus and the Travelers, and on my decision to enter the Demonic Games. No comment for now, Ian, I answered. The reality was that I just didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t about to admit the real reason for entering the Games. Then the journalist asked me to at least confirm that the dinosaur in the nighttime video was the same one I once showed him. I confirmed that the dinosaur was my pet.

  Then I opened the news…

  Scyth enters the Demonic Games!

  What will the class-A Threat do without his superpowers?

  The huge headline took up a third of the Disgardium Daily’s front page. The article’s author was the young journalist Axel Donovan. He mused spitefully on what Scyth could possibly achieve without his Threat abilities, and asked who stood to gain the most from a union between the Awoken and the two leading clans of the Alliance. He answered his own question:

  You don’t need a Fortuneteller’s Orb to figure this one out — Scyth is desperate. The loss of his legate status was a painful blow to young Alex Sheppard’s ego. Life is sure to surprise him with a range of lessons, one of which will be that you don’t earn respect with a big mouth and questionable actions.

  Neither Otto Hinterleaf nor Horvac Onegut would have entered into a true alliance with someone they have so little respect for. Without a shadow of a doubt, the cunning leaders of the Alliance are using Scyth for some purpose of their own, the nature of which we will soon discover.

  For now, let’s discuss Scyth’s chances at the Demonic Games…

  Opinion was divided in the comments, but most people seemed certain that I had no hope.
<
br />   True_dovakin | +1.22m | 6 hours ago

  Saw Scyth summon that dinosaur yesterday? It snapped a giant in half like a twig! I’m with Axel. The kid had full invuln and a pack of imba pets, but he won’t have any of that at the Games. He doesn’t have a chance. If you want my honest opinion, Scyth is a piece of shit loser. I’m glad he’s entering. We’ll all see who he really is, and in real life too.

  First_son2055 | +0.91m | 3 hours ago

  I know I’m going to get downvoted by fans of the A-Threat, but seriously, are you people for real? Analyze all Scyth’s battles — what do you see? He’s a coward! There’s no way he would have won at Kinema and then in the desert without his abilities from the Destroying Plague. As soon as he lost them, that was it! Damn, I get it — going up against a hundred thousand players, the Aspects of Light and the Colossi of Darkness is a tough gig, but come on bro! Couldn’t you at least try? But nah, he just ran away instead. I’m surprised Scyth decided to make even more of a fool of himself, but I’m excited to see what’s coming. Counting the days to the Demonic Games!

  Parturnax | +0.70m | 2 hours ago

  I’m neither against nor for the class-A. But I think we can all agree that these Games are going to be fun. I’ve ordered two sacks of chips and jalapeno poppers and two hundred bottles of beer. The wife and kids are staying at the in-laws. I’m going to take a vacation and watch the whole Demonic Games!

  What did you expect, Alex? I thought. For the crowd to carry you on their shoulders because you’re a good kid? Here it is, the other side of fame. At the height of the wave they deify you, but one wrong move and the vultures come down to tear you apart. The people want bread and entertainment.

  I ground my teeth in anger and resentment. They would get what they wanted. I would win the Demonic Games, whatever it cost me.

  “You awake, Alex?” I heard Maria say from outside the door.

  “I’m getting up!”

  “Alright. The store got some worthwhile groceries in stock, I’m making breakfast.”

  The scent of fried eggs, bacon and coffee tickled my nostrils. Half closing my eyes, I drew in the air and smiled. The breathtaking aroma awoke my hunger and, more importantly, blasted away all my dark thoughts and lifted my spirits, which Donovan’s article and its top comments had ruined.

  I took a shower and sat down at the table. It was just the two of us: Roj was catching up on sleep.

  Maria told me that Hairo had hired a housekeeper for the boys, to clean up their apartments, do their laundry and cook for them. She’d already gotten to work, but Maria was still cooking for me.

  “An untested person is too great a risk,” the bodyguard explained. “Your friends are unlikely to be targeted, but…”

  “I like your cooking,” I interrupted her, glancing at my empty plate. “Could I have seconds?”

  “Of course!” she fussed.

  A holoprojector had appeared in the lounge. It was showing a criminal punishment. The channel was actually called Punishment TV. Judgment was short and the sentence applied immediately — society had done away with prisons. There were too many people on the planet, too little space. It was easier to strip criminals of their citizenship and send them somewhere like Cali Bottom. Or institute physical punishment and entertain millions with the spectacle.

  “Change the channel if you want,” Maria said, putting a fresh plate of omelet in front of me. “By the way, they’re bringing in a food processor after lunch. There’ll be more options, so if you have any preferences, let me know.”

  “I like orange juice. Not picky about food. Fries, burgers, hotdogs, pizza…”

  “Uh-huh,” she laughed. “You can forget about all of that. Hairo’s orders. ‘That kid needs a healthy and nutritious diet!’ he said, so that’s what you’re going to get!”

  “Sounds like a threat,” I smiled.

  Her mention of Hairo reminded me of our problem with the local kingpin Diego Aranzabal. Judging by the fact that nobody had told me anything, the security officers must have had it in hand, but I still asked:

  “What happened with Diego? Do you know?”

  “Yes,” Maria darkened. “A few cargo flyers full of wild ones flew in last night. They’re getting settled in now. Right after that, Willy and Hairo will have a military council session.”

  “A military council session?”

  “Believe me, Alex, you’re better off out of it. Hairo has this problem under control. You take care of your own. They’ll catch someone from Diego’s circle, beat some intel out of him, learn the base layout, the boss’s schedule… Don’t think about it. The less you know, the less responsibility you have. Eat!”

  At that moment, the holoprojector showed the sentence being carried out. Drone cameras shot the action up close as the whip tore flesh from the unlucky man’s back, spraying out blood… I nodded at it:

  “Why do you watch this?”

  “I’m doing my civic duty…” Maria stopped suddenly. “You do know how the system works, right?”

  “The viewers set the punishment?”

  “Not just the punishment. You can reduce the sentence too. This non-citizen kid was going to get a hundred lashes. He wouldn’t have survived; it’s a de facto death sentence. But what did he do? He took a community flyer to see the world, and on the way he flew into a high citizenship district. Probably by accident, but the law is the law.”

  “What did you vote for?”

  “Five lashes. He didn’t kill anyone or steal anything. Maybe he just wanted to see how citizens live, or he messed up the controls and flew the wrong way. But in the end, after all the votes were gathered from the audience, the judge declared the community’s sentence: ten lashes…” She clenched her teeth as she looked at the screen and the whip struck the boy again. “A lot of losers who watch this channel just want to see blood; they always vote for the death sentence or amputation, even for misdemeanors. Of course, after a few rounds, the judge AI cuts off idiots like that from the voting, but not right away. And I always think about how maybe my vote will be the one that someone needs to get a lighter sentence.”

  “Something’s wrong with our world, Maria…” I put down my fork and moved my plate away. “Thanks.”

  My appetite was gone. I climbed into my capsule deep in thought. The intragel washed over me and the world flashed…

  And I was in the Bone and Fossil tavern on Mengoza, in the main hall full of clamoring people.

  “Scyth!” Irita called over to me excitedly, getting up and waving to me from the other end of the room.

  She sat at a table with Crawler. They must have been discussing the future trades at the auction.

  I approached, nodded to my friend and hugged the girl. She kept hold of me, kissed me and whispered in my ear:

  “Have you decided? Can I move in with you?”

  “Not yet. We’ll talk after the Games, okay?”

  “Then what about a date in Dis? Tonight?”

  “Gladly. Hopefully nothing urgent comes up.”

  “Then see you tonight.” Smiling, she went back to the table.

  I swapped news with the mage, then jumped straight to the village of Jiri. The Grain of Transformation had finished its work and my stats had changed. Now I could try to pull the Caressing Creeper from the trunk.

  The old man sat beneath the once mighty tree in lotus pose, his eyes closed. Without opening them, he muttered:

  “You got uglier. I hope that isn’t your only achievement.”

  I hadn’t noticed any changes in my appearance, but the NPC knew better. My charisma was reduced, which made me less attractive.

  “Master…” I greeted Oyama, bowing my head.

  He was silent. Saying nothing more, I approached the tree and took hold of the creeper. I squeezed it and it gave way beneath my grip. I pulled hard.

  Crack! The stalk broke and separated from the tree with a squelching sound. The multitude of roots that delving into the tree to suck out its life juices writhed, emitting a
piercing scream and squirting out a brown liquid.

  Without letting go of the stalk, I walked away from the tree in a spiral, disentangling and pulling the parasite out bit by bit. It was strong, it didn’t tear or break, but that worked to my advantage — a few minutes later, the tree was free. The long creeper hung lifelessly wrapped around my arm. The deep wounds bleeding sap on the trunk slowly drew closed, leaving scars. I heard a sigh of relief in the rustle of the tree’s leaves. Cracking and creaking, it straightened, spreading out its branches.

  “You got uglier,” the old man repeated, standing up. “But stronger and faster too, my apprentice.”