The Demonic Games (Disgardium Book #7): LitRPG Series
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I had a surprise for them, but I started elsewhere:
“I’ll use a certain artifact as an example. I couldn’t remember what we had specifically for jewelers, so I asked the clan for info. That’s what they’re using as an excuse to disqualify me. Anyway, it’s a divine artifact, and it adds two ranks to Jewelcrafting. What do you think of that, Mr. Rosenthal?”
Joseph narrowed his eyes, trying not to give the game away, but I could tell by his quickened breath and the nervous twitch in his Adam’s apple: he was hooked.
“What are the requirements?” he asked hoarsely.
“Two thousand perception.”
“Oh, I see,” Meister said, relaxing and waving a hand. “One of those artifacts with impossible requirements. Like the Chef’s Frying Pan of the First Titans — plus two ranks to Cooking, but only if you have the three thousand strength to use it. Don’t get it, Alex? Of course, nuances like this escape you.”
Coughing, Bloomer spoke up:
“As their crafting rank goes up, craftspeople begin to get huge bonuses from their specialist stat. For Meister the jeweler, that’s intellect. For fishing, it’s agility. For mining — strength. That’s why crafters end up with super imbalanced stats; everything gets put into the one stat.”
“What about equipment?” I asked. “You can raise the stat you need with items.”
“Not by two or three thousand points!” Meister snorted derisively. “You can get high bonuses to physical characteristics from plate armor, for example. Do you think my character can wear plate?”
“Don’t bother guessing,” Bloomer said. “The answer is no.”
“Which is exactly why we, the non-combat classes and crafters, have united together,” Roman sighed. “I don’t think I’m revealing a big secret by telling you that none of us have a large amount of health or strength. Our attacks are weak. We can’t achieve anything in the Cursed Chasm without working together, and even then all we can get is mobs. We can’t take on the bosses.”
“So all of you would appreciate three thousand points to a stat, right?”
The men smiled, spread their hands. I decided to raise the stakes, leaned forward and said:
“What if I ask for the support of your entire raid? Doesn’t matter if any of you win or not. I don’t care who exactly wins — my gratitude will extend to everyone.”
Roman’s eyes lit up and he averted his eyes.
“Don’t forget that you’re about to be disqualified,” Joseph said, now a picture of self-possession again.
“Of course. I’m taking that into account. My offer doesn’t depend on whether I get kicked out of the Games today or not. My obligations to you will remain in force, and after the Games, when you’re back in big Dis, I’ll fulfill my promises.”
“And if you aren’t kicked out?” Roman asked, frowning with curiosity.
“Then I’ll join your raid and be your main damage dealer! And if all goes to plan, we’ll break through to the final boss, whose name, by the way, is Abaddon, and we’ll try to become champions together!”
“All of us? Champions? Is that possible?” Bloomer asked skeptically.
“Theoretically it is,” Roman answered. “It’s just that nobody has ever killed the boss of floor 666. But if we can take him out with a raid… Well, then all the raid members will be champions!”
“Damn tempting, for sure…” Meister interjected. “But Alex hasn’t even told us what he promises yet.”
“The grand prize is three thousand to a priority stat, right? I’ll offer you five times that as a minimum. At least fifteen thousand points, distributed equally between all your stats.”
Actually, our newly built third temple meant that the limit on followers of the Sleepers would rise to several million, but it would be dumb to throw around numbers like that. They wouldn’t believe me, they’d laugh and tell this kid with an overactive imagination to get lost. I’d decided to tell them what I could realistically give them with just two consecrated temples.
“That’s crazy. I don’t believe it,” Bloomer whispered, pursing his lips. “How? Some superstrong Threat ability?”
“It has to be true,” Roman said, and the fire in his eyes burned brighter with every word. “Otherwise there’s no way he could promise mountains of gold to the whole raid. He would have stuck to just the leaders. That’s what I would have done.”
“How about an insurance policy?” the old jeweler said, leaning forward. “Let’s say if you don’t deliver on your promise to us within… hmm… a month of the end of the Games, then you owe us a million each. And… you give me that silly artifact of yours to me personally.”
“Oh, so you’re interested in it after all?” I smiled.
“Depends whether you deliver on your promises,” the old man growled, smiling.
A month should be more than enough time to gather fifteen thousand followers. The artifact… It’d cost us, but having a top jeweler with two bonus ranks on our side… What was there to think about? We couldn’t miss this chance!
“No question. You’ll get the artifact no matter what happens. It’s a gift,” I said.
Bloomer and Roman whistled, finally letting their poker faces slip. Joseph Rosenthal stared at me hard, as if trying to see something he missed before. He drummed his fingers on the armrests of his chair, then turned to his partners:
“This young man isn’t anything like the media painted him, right, guys?”
“I watched his interview with Mitchell,” Bloomer answered dryly. “I thought he was giving scripted answers, but now… I admit I was wrong.”
“As long as he isn’t trying to pull one over on us,” Roman said, frowning and sipping his drink.
“A very good point, Roman,” Joseph said and looked back at me: “Are you willing to repeat the conditions of the deal to an Arbiter?” He saw the look of confusion on my face and explained: “A human one. A real one, not from the Celestial Arbitration. It’ll be one of the three prime notaries employed here.”
Prime notaries could formalize any trade with their presence alone. They were also judges when contracts were violated. After earning their rank, every prime notary was given lifetime citizenship of at least category C, and it grew over the years they served.
“Don’t be so surprised,” Bloomer said. “Alliances are made in the Games all the time. There are millions at stake. That’s why Snowstorm provides the contestants with Arbiters. And so, Mr. Sheppard, what kind of alliance do you want with us?”
I’d been hoping that the negotiations would go well, of course, but I hadn’t expected events to start moving so quickly. All this was so serious that I had to be very careful in formulating what I wanted from my new allies. ‘Give me the essence if you win’ seemed too narrow. With conditions like that, they wouldn’t have to even try. They could just relax and not move — why bother when they’d get theirs anyway? No, I needed something more effective… Unity would make them my allies in greater Dis, since nobody would willingly refuse its power, but here…
“In that case, gentlemen, I’ll rephrase my conditions. I require full support from you all, your entire group. You must help me personally and my character in all matters that concern my goal. In particular, Scyth must obtain the Concentrated Life Essence.”
They looked at each other for a moment, then exchanged barely perceptible nods. Bloomer half-closed his eyes for a second.
“Where?” Roman asked, glancing at his partners. “Maybe…”
Bloomer raised a hand to cut him off, then spoke into his comm:
“This is Nico Knowles. I’d like to book the bowling alley… All of them! Yes, all the lanes! Yes, all sixteen! The entire hall! For a closed event! Right now! Great.” He hung up, shrugged. “Well, where else would we do it? We need a room big enough for everyone!”
Joseph brought the comm to his face and commanded hoarsely:
“Announcement to Meister’s raid. General assembly! Everyone to the bowling alley! Urgency: ruby!”
Chapter 15. My Circle
MEISTER, ROMAN AND BLOOMER discussed my offer with their partners for a long time. I counted a little over a hundred of them. They hailed from various clans and factions and were all united by the need to stick together, but their views were far from identical.
They would have argued until midnight and never come to any conclusion if it weren’t for the urgency. The raid resolved not to leave the bowling alley until a decision was made. In any case, none of them had anything to lose, and judging by the conversations I overheard, they were more concerned that the deal seemed too good to be true, and that meant there was some catch. They were trying to figure out exactly what it was.
Everyone except Bloomer and Roman took part in the lively debate. Those two had already made their decision and offloaded the weight of responsibility onto Meister, and now they were actually bowling. The roll of thrown balls and the crash of scattering skittles distracted the others, and Roman’s triumphant shout when he got a strike made my savior, the singer Michelle, gasp.
Shooting a disapproving glance at the poet and curser, she headed toward me. Reaching me, she just stared in silence as if waiting, which gave me a chance to look at her: she was short, with olive skin, huge black eyes with thick eyelashes, short blond curls. The girl looked young, as if she’d just finished school yesterday, but I knew she was almost thirty. Now I could clearly hear the French accent in her voice:
“Well, Sheppard, tell me, what are you thinking? Have you decided to buy us and scoop up all our fans at the same time?”
“Are you serious? In an hour or so, depending on whether Octius announces my disqualification before the highlights or after, I won’t have any need for fans. I’ve been honest with your leaders, Michelle. I need the life essence. And remember, I’m not asking that you give it, but that you sell it. For a reasonable price, of course, based on a valuation from the goblin auctioneers. What I’m offering in exchange is something you just can’t buy with money.”
The girl rolled her eyes. Clearly, the financial side bothered her least of all. Judging by what she did in the Pitfall, Michelle was impulsive and thought more with her heart than her head. She seemed curious like a cat, and I could work with that. Surely I had a laser pen… I went through a few options, then whispered conspiratorially:
“Can you keep a secret, Michelle? The reason I really need the prize from the champion of the Games…”
She glanced to the side where a few miniature camera drones were hovering like dragonflies above a river and filming us.
“They’re not streaming right now, but if you tell it to me here, everyone will know it by tomorrow,” the girl said. “But you know what? I’m curious! Truth be told, I want them to keep you in. I’d like to fight on your side and see what you’re made of… And how well you keep your word. Tonight, after the interviews, in your room? You can tell me that secret of yours. Deal?” She stretched out a hand, and I shook it.
“Sure thing.”
“Okay, Alex,” Michelle nodded, her gaze locked on my face. “I’ll be voting to accept your offer. Meister has made it clear: anyone who refuses must leave the raid. Nobody will do that. On the other hand, if we take a risk, we have a chance of winning the Demonic Games, and for that…”
Purring something to herself under her breath, the girl smiled and withdrew her hand. Only then did I realize that her palm was sweating; Michelle was nervous to be talking to me. She ran back to her own, knocking into Bloomer on the way as he stepped back for a run-up for his throw, but seemed not to notice him. The poet stumbled after bumping into her and sent the ball into the gutter. Or maybe it was just a curse from Roman working its magic.
I didn’t know if it was Michelle’s vote that made the difference, but soon they called me forward and announced that everyone agreed to the alliance. And there were no additional conditions or questions. The old man Rosenthal just announced the group’s verdict and asked:
“So, do we have a deal?”
I nodded, and Meister called for an Arbiter. Not five minutes passed before an unassuming man entered in a gray suit, with sleepy eyes and mousy slicked-back hair.
“Subject of the agreement? Parties?” he asked flatly.
Meister declared the conditions and named the participants: all present and Alex Sheppard. After hearing him out, the prime notary asked:
“A term of one month for Alex Sheppard to fulfill his obligations. Are we counting from when the contract is signed or from the end of the Demonic Games?”
“Start from today!” Joker the gnomish engineer shouted, the one who blew up his own allies the day before at the Aegis.
In life, he was the opposite of his character — a huge, impassive musclehead around six and a half feet tall. People called him by his game nickname in real life so as not to confuse Joker-Joseph with Meister-Joseph.
“No,” Joseph argued. “It’s only fair to start it from the day the Games end.”
“Has the method for increasing the total stats been discussed?”
“I can’t reveal that ahead of time, Sir Arbiter,” I answered.
“Very well, we’ll put down that it’s through any means not contradicting gameplay…”
The prime notary clarified a few more details, declared the final conditions of the deal and even entered the total of all the characters’ stats as of today into the agreement, then declared the deal done and warned us that violating the conditions would carry a penalty — up to and including a demotion in citizenship status.
All this took not much time, fifteen minutes, but still enough that dinner was drawing to a close by the time we made it to the hall of ceremonies.
“See you tonight,” Michelle whispered in my ear as she passed.
Her hot breath raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I smiled in embarrassment — who knew how the viewers would take her words, that is, of course, if they heard them. I watched her go and then found my table, but didn’t sit down. Now that I had the support of Meister’s people, I decided to push my luck and try to talk to Quetzal. It wasn’t that I was hoping for his help — I just wanted to make my interest known.
But Renato didn’t want to talk to me. No sooner did I walk over to his table and open my mouth than he barked:
“We have nothing to talk about, Sheppard! Say goodbye and go away, today’s your last day here!”
Tissa was sitting next to him. She whispered something into Renato’s ear and he nodded to her. Malik just stared at me, chuckling.
“Ask your new girlfriend what I can offer you, Mr. Loyola,” I said before walking away.
I spoke calmly, but anger boiled inside me. I didn’t understand why those two couldn’t just chill out. So they betrayed me. Fine, I could accept that — our paths diverged, it happens. But why keep provoking me? For the first time since day one, I started to have doubts about how honest Tissa and Malik were being…
Deep in thought, I bumped into the chair of one of the contestants. I apologized, then saw who it was. It turned out that the path to my lonely table had taken me through the area occupied by Destiny’s group.
“Looks like you went blind at the bottom of the Pitfall,” a muscle-bound man with a prickly gaze growled. My comm told me this was Ezekiel Crass, better known as Urkish the lopher. Turning to the group leader, he nodded toward me: “You see that, Des? So rude!”
Destiny Windsor sipped her champagne, smiled wickedly and whispered something to Loran, aka Messiah the shapeshifter magician, seated next to her. Then, her hateful eyes drilling into me, she spoke loud enough for everyone to hear:
“Uncultured child!”
“Hey, Alex!” Loran said, beckoning me over with a finger. Camera drones buzzed around us. “Come here!”
I stayed where I was, not trying to approach, but not leaving either. I just raised an eyebrow.
�
�Come on, Alex, I don’t bite…” Messiah drawled. “Or did all your bravery disappear with your Threat abilities? You know, I really thought you were worth something. No, really, I even felt sorry for you! We didn’t know anything about you, after all. And when I saw how you got attacked at registration, I felt for you. I really did! I thought, look at that poor boy, nobody loves him, aww! I should support him, I thought, let him know that Loran is the only one on his side.”
More and more drones had flown in to stream us. They filmed Messiah from all angles, and he basked in the limelight. The whole world was watching him, and he, so brave, so just, so kind, was milking his minute of fame a moment before the disqualification of the world’s bogeyman — Scyth, Class-A Threat.