The Demonic Games (Disgardium Book #7): LitRPG Series

by Dan Sugralinov

  Already in the elevator, I turned around before the doors slid closed. Malik opened his mouth. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he said nothing. Melissa shouted with passion:

  “It was all for you, Alex! For you…”

  The doors closed, blocking out the sound. Sure, all for me, I thought, grinding my teeth. The Nether with them. I already knew how they would try to talk their way out of it. Sorry, Scyth, we thought you’d get killed right away, so we decided to distance ourselves from you to try and get the essence! Melissa would have said. And Malik would have added: We put on that show in full view of everyone just to win their trust…

  Even if that was true, I didn’t plan to forgive them. They had every opportunity to include me in their plans! Why didn’t they? Why rip a hole in my soul and let all my strength, joy and faith in humanity pour away? I nearly gave up, nearly went mad! Their betrayal cut so deeply that I’d sooner forgive Marcus for spitting in my face than those two..!

  In the hall of ceremonies, a fight had broken out at the tables by the wall — the Markers were shouting at each other, knocking over tables and breaking chairs. Women screamed. Security droids rushed in to separate the brawlers and bring order.

  “Fresh departures,” Koba smiled. “Nice to see the Markers in ruins!”

  Alison Wu swooped in behind me, her eyes lit up. Taking me by the arm, she pulled me away to the other end of the hall.

  My team was assembled behind some tables pushed together. Nobody was eating and everyone was talking loudly, sharing stories. The craftsmen seemed particularly inspired. Their faces beamed, and I felt uncomfortable for thinking of getting rid of them.

  Among us were some who had already been zeroed. At least half the hall was full of my supporters. Many of my knocked-out allies were still happy about the raid’s success, but the ones that fell to Youlang’s spells when they thought they were already safe felt particularly bitter. Roman had already taken out his anger on the man who played Hox, thinking him the main culprit of the catastrophe. If he hadn’t been a scrawny little man with an emaciated face, Roman would have hit him. As it was, he just tore him down verbally instead.

  Right after dinner, Guy Barron Octius came onto the stage. Greeting us without his usual enthusiasm and zeal, he sat down with his legs dangling off the stage, then spoke tiredly, without emotion:

  “That was a hard day… Very hard. The bloodbath that began yesterday took a real turn for the worse today. But I want to start with something else. Put aside Scyth’s incredible victory on floor 531 for now, since that was a freak event, outside of the usual logic of progression. Where does that leave us? After almost a week, the deepest progress was floor 22. Four percent of the content explored! In a week!” The gamesmaster raised a finger and jabbed it toward the holocube above the stage. “These are the worst Demonic Games in history! Remember, last year the participants had already reached floor 240 by the end of the week!”

  In his joyless speech, Octius declared that the nineteenth Games were not only the worst, but also the bloodiest:

  “By the fourth day, around a hundred contestants had already headed home. By the fifth — nearly half! And now here we are, saying goodbye to almost two hundred contestants who are leaving the Games..! Truly, these are the worst Games in history,” Octius said, sighing sadly. “So far. I say ‘so far’ because there is still the hope that in the end, they will surpass all the rest! But all in good time!”

  The Demonic Games title screen played on the holocube with a headline of the day’s highlights: the words ‘Day Six’ imprinted in red-hot metal to the sound of a hammer. Octius started commentating:

  “Today, the hunters became the hunted! But against all expectations, the beginning of the day boded nothing of the sort. Yes, ladies and gentlemen! Much persecuted Scyth, after a stunning performance in Despot’s Labyrinth, was set to begin his sixth day with a triumphant return to the surface to help his allies. But the young man overestimated his abilities and fell into Marcus’s clutches..!”

  Much was shown in the highlights, including my dialog with Despot after he killed Quetzal and Hellfish. Despot’s friend-or-foe decisions didn’t make the cut. Then it turned out that the viewers didn’t hear what the contestants heard in the scenes with the demon.

  When I asked Despot who Infect was, he answered in his usual manner:

  “Groghhr! Groghhr! Groghhr!”

  Another mystery, of which Snowstorm and Dis already had plenty.

  Actually, considering the tradition of giving some limelight to everyone who got knocked out, the review of the day took quite some time. We were shown the faces of all those who had left the Games, with cuts of the flashiest moments they were involved in, short interviews taken as soon as they came out of their capsules.

  “Melissa Schafer, aka light priestess Tissa, died at the hands of Marcus the orc bruiser…” Octius commentated in tragic tones as the orc’s gigantic club drove the girl’s body into the ground. “Marcus Jansson himself fell victim to the final boss, the demon Abaddon the Destroyer, but what was the cause of the orc’s drop into the abyss? Or rather, who? Again and again I find myself saying the same name — Herald Scyth!”

  Jansson, drinking along with some other eliminated players in the far corner of the hall, declined to comment. I don’t think he could have even if he wanted to — he could barely string a sentence together before dinner, and now he was struggling to sit in his chair.

  Having covered every contestant leaving the Games, the gamesmaster climbed on his silver disc hovering above the floor, then flew his way over to me.

  “And now I wouldn’t mind asking the hero of the day a couple of questions!” he said to the cameras, then turned to me. “Alex, exactly one week ago you sat in this hall at the opening ceremony. The editor tells me that you were sat with Anna Kovalenko — sculptor Anna, Frankie Pontiac — jockey Frankie, Joseph Rosenthal — jeweler Meister, and Theodore Novak — tamer Shemshur.”

  “I remember.”

  “I specially rewatched the footage of that night from the cameras focused on your table. Back then, your neighbors were, to put it mildly, not particularly friendly to you. Hell, all four hundred contestants couldn’t wait to tear you apart. But what do I see now? You’re sitting… oh-ho-ho!” Octius looked to the camera and smiled widely, spreading his arms. “Do you see that? Who would have thought that one week later, Anna would be your ally and would be sitting on one side of you while Destiny Windsor sits on the other! We’ll come back to her later…” He chuckled. “Meister has become one of your most loyal comrades! Shemshur fell today in efforts to save you, — again as your ally! Of the four with whom you found yourself sitting on opening day, only one fought on the other side today, but Frankie was knocked out of the games, felled at your hands! Do you feel proud of yourself and the strategy you chose? Today showed it was the right one!”

  “I’m angry at myself, Octius, not proud. I made mistakes that led to many of my allies being eliminated. I lost 80% of my people. There’s nothing to be proud of.”

  “Yesterday you might have lost them all, Alex,” the gamesmaster argued. “And even today, you could have twice lost your people, and been eliminated yourself. But in the end, you made it. Believe me, you have reason to be proud!”

  He clapped me on the shoulder and returned to the stage. I breathed out and sipped from a glass of non-alcoholic beer — I’d rather be ground down by a Living Sieve than be at the center of attention.

  But the torture didn’t end there. Octius moved on to what he called the main sensation of the day:

  “Alex Sheppard…” He paused. “And Destiny Windsor… Allies! Who could have predicted that? Truly, characters don’t just level up faster in the Games, apparently alliances change faster than this girl’s mood! Yesterday’s teammates become today’s deadly enemies while the fiercest foes create alliances…”

  He flew over to our table, looked at Destiny and me, continued:

  “We have reliable information that Miss
Windsor visited Alex last night. The young duo spent quite a lot of time together, but as for what happened between them or what they talked about, that remains under the veil of mystery. Let’s ask if they would like to lift it for us!”

  We refused, of course, although even our allies were shouting for us to tell them. To the sound of booing from the audience, along with insults from Marcus, Urkish and Messiah, Octius returned to the stage in disappointment.

  “We traditionally round out the overview of the best moments of the day with the results of the viewers’ vote!” the gamesmaster declared. “The viewers have declared the best player of the day to be…”

  I waited for him to call my name, then opened my eyes wide when Octius shouted:

  “…Yu-uu-uu-lan! No doubt about it, our viewers were impressed by the spellcaster’s impressive maneuver to the enemy flank. She cut down half her enemies and then successfully escaped from Scyth and his immortal demon!”

  Youlang sat surrounded by Marcus’s officers, and seemed to be the only one among them who wasn’t drunk. A thin middle-aged Asian woman with short faded hair, a fine line of thin lips and a frowning gaze from beneath her brows.

  Commenting on her reward, she said:

  “Those who think the Games are over are mistaken. They’re only just beginning!”

  Catching my eye, she smiled widely and mouthed something silently. Something short, two or three words.

  The viewers’ decision didn’t bother me. Whatever awesome reward she got, the level 16 spellcaster couldn’t go up against us. Tomorrow would be her last day at the Games.

  In the absence of others, the worst player of the day was declared to be Bloomer, leaving him extremely unhappy. He took to writing an angry poem about ‘unworthy fools hungry for circuses.’

  Midnight approached when Octius finally said goodbye to us, wishing all the eliminated a good time on their last night in the Games.

  In the media center, I was immediately at the center of the journalists’ attention. They crowded round me, and Kerry had to organize a press conference in the biggest conference room.

  There were so many questions that the interview took nearly two hours. My throat kept drying up, but I put up with it, knowing how important it was to explain the logic of what I’d done. All the same, I thought for a long time when Axel Donovan asked me directly:

  “What’s between you and Destiny Windsor, Mr. Sheppard? Business in common or something… more romantic?”

  “Do you like Miss Windsor, Mr. Donovan?” I asked the journalist.

  “Uhm… To be honest, I’ve never looked at her that way before…” Axel said, at a loss. “But of course, Miss Windsor is renowned for her practically perfect beauty…”

  “You’ve answered your own question,” I said, muddying the waters. I answered all further questions about Destiny and me the same way.

  My conversation with Despot caused the most confusion. Little Peter Davis from Disgardium Daily, friend of Ian Mitchell, even voiced his own suspicions:

  “We analyzed the live stream, and in the part where you take Hox to the cemetery, you’re clearly talking to Despot about something. The structure of the conversation and the involvement of the other contestants creates the impression that you understand what the demon is saying, as do the others, but all the viewers heard from Despot was ‘Groghghr!’”

  “What’s the question, Mr. Davis?”

  “Did you understand what Despot was saying?”

  “Yeah, I learned demonic,” I joked.

  But I made a mental note — Snowstorm wanted to hide my ally’s suddenly revealed talent of seeing into people’s souls. Only I didn’t understand why. They themselves had asked me in their first email to keep my Threat status secret, and warned me that if I opened up to anyone, even outside Dis, they’d know about it. In other words, it wasn’t news that they could read thoughts through the capsules… So then what was the corporation trying to hide?

  Towards the end, as usual, they asked me stupid questions. The streamers even wanted to know what Michelle thought of my — ha-ha! — already clear link to Destiny. But even that torture eventually ended.

  As Kerry and I walked out of the media center, I ran into my allies. Vito Painter suggested we celebrate the day’s success at Boom Boom and discuss the next day’s strategy. I was already yawning. I hadn’t even slept the night before! First I was discussing plans, then talking to Destiny. So we agreed only to discuss strategy, not to celebrate.

  “I don’t see a reason yet,” I said in answer to attempts from the girls to change my mind. I looked for Destiny, but she’d already gone to her room.

  Over the day, our list of officers had been decided: Quetzal from Excommunicado, Hellfish from Travelers, clanless Meister, and ice mage Kara, a top representative from Modus.

  Getting closer to Renato Loyola bothered me. Hairo and Willy had warned me that the Exco leader Colonel had a grudge against me. Moreover, the South American clan rubbed shoulders with the United Cartel, who were watching and waiting for a chance to catch me. Memories of Diego Aranzabal, when only Divine Revelation had saved the clan from certain death, were still fresh in my mind. But I was safe at the Games, and I had to concentrate on them. So I squashed my doubts and went to Boom Boom with a crowd of allies, all talking and laughing.

  They all started drinking right away at the club, wanting to put the day’s stress behind them. The raid officers knew the place like the back of their hand. They led me to a private room.

  The men placed an order and uncorked a couple of bottles of the strong stuff. While they were doing that, I checked a forum to see what was being written about me.

  KeepCalm | +4.62m | 2 hours ago

  That was one of the best days in the history of the Games! Drama in every fight, every word! Scyth’s monologue when he was carrying Marcus to the Pitfall made me look at the kid differently. You have to admit, he’s not the soulless and stuck-up chump we thought he was! And the part where he went against his own for sexy Des? Has to be love, boys! Ooooo!

  Depressd | +3.27m | 6 hours ago

  It’s all over, folks, let’s go home. I kept hoping Marcus would find a way to escape and not get eaten by Abaddon, but the Threat used yet another imba ability to stun the bruiser for a whole hour! And then he summoned a demon and zeroed the top one hundred… I predict that tomorrow is going to be boring as hell. Screenshot this!

  By the way, Scyth’s pet is so joke. Bad enough it can’t go in instances, he has to feed it all the time too. You saw Scyth feeding his own to it, right?

  Gottem | +2.64m | 4 hours ago

  Replying to Depressd: You’re wrong about who Scyth fed to the pet — they were traitors. And it’s too early to count out Youlang!

  We drew up a general plan: grind exp in the morning, starting with floor 23, to level up those who risked getting zeroed. Instead of going after Youlang, I would fully concentrate on leveling up the raid — it had to be quickly brought up to level 100. Nobody could say what would happen after that.

  “There’s no point in planning too carefully when you’re around, Alex,” Quetzal said.

  “True,” Hellfish agreed. “It’ll all go to hell anyway.”

  Chapter 28. Freedom Day

  WE REAPPEARED where we’d left our characters the night before — in the tavern. We wasted no time, just went straight to the Pitfall. To avoid risking my allies, I stayed close to them, keeping an eye out for Youlang. But the group moved fast enough — potions, food and buffs to movement speed helped. Apart from Bloomer lagging behind from his debuff, at least. He had Wobbly Legs.

  Despot was waiting for us in the Pitfall — I sent him back there last night to keep him from terrorizing the villagers. Sensing us, he roared below, then materialized next to us an instant later.

  The demon growled a greeting. Destiny moved behind me, shuddering, and I bristled too. Who knew what the devs might have come up with for today? But Despot had no plans to fight, just groghrred and grinned:

/>   “Incredible! You undying simply disappear from the world, leaving no astral trace. Then you return just as suddenly! Prince Diablo would be interested to study this phenomenon…”

  I didn’t bother explaining immersion to the demon. And not just because I didn’t have the time, but out of superstition too. That was all we needed, a demon learning about the real world! Instead, I took him off to one side and asked him to destroy Hox’s dagger, so I could keep Rindzin’s Ghostly Talon. The rusty knife disappeared down Despot’s throat, starting to melt as soon as it entered his mouth.

  Remembering the epic sword I left in his lair, I decided to make my ally useful:

  “You have nothing to do, Despot. Why don’t you go get that Blade of Bloody Tide from your dungeon? You know where it’s hidden?”