The Demonic Games (Disgardium Book #7): LitRPG Series by Dan Sugralinov (iphone ebook reader TXT) 📗

spoke to who. Even the short nods that Marcus and Urkish the lopher exchanged didn’t escape my eye.

Marcus’s group was one of the last to leave the hall. I noticed that some of Destiny’s people walked with them, but some stayed at the table in animated discussion. Was there trouble in Miss Windsor’s royal court now that she had been declared worst player of the day? There was a reason Destiny herself disappeared right after she ‘won’ that nomination.

Standing up from the table, I took stock of our situation. At the end of day five, there were roughly two hundred and thirty contestants left. Twenty were Quetzal and Hellfish’s people. Meister had eighty. Together, they just barely had the same numbers as Destiny and Marcus’s raids combined, but were far lower in level.

It seemed that after the massacre of my allies, many small groups stopped waiting to pick a side, instead deciding to seek out protectors right away. Judging by what was happening around Marcus, most wanted to join him, but he had become very selective and only took on five players. At least, that was the conclusion I drew from the rejects, who vented their disappointment as they walked by my table.

The others panicked — they didn’t want to join my allies, fearing another massacre and zeroing, but they didn’t have the numbers to farm the floors anymore. The first accessible levels had already been cleared, after all, and if they went lower… Well, the gate guardians there would have made a quick meal of them.

I didn’t know whether they thought that or not, but as I walked past the stage I noticed that all the neutrals who had hesitated and been rejected by the top players were huddled into a circle. Had they decided to make their own raid? It looked like it, but I soon learned I was wrong.

When they saw me, they started whispering and sent a delegation of three people to me. Knowing my age (which meant they knew about those damn unruly hormones!), they chose two cute girls and a handsome guy.

The trio of strangers caught up to me at the exit from the hall of ceremonies. The short, steely-eyed blonde who looked around twenty-five spoke first:

“Hey, Alex! I’m Zara. These are my friends, Jasmine…” The tall ginger girl with her hair tied back into a ponytail nodded. “And her brother, Jean-Jac.” The blue-eyed brown-haired man shook my hand. “Can we talk for a minute?”

I nodded and we moved behind a column. Zara bit her lip, exchanged glances with her friends, then blurted out:

“Please take us under your protection! We only have twenty-three people. Some are fighters! From level 14 to 17.”

I had expected something like this after my adventures in Despot’s Labyrinth were shown in the hall, but I was still taken aback. Yesterday I had to buy allies, today they were begging to join…

The guy with the double name, Jean-Jac, took my silence as doubt, and he was right. He decided to play to my compassion:

“Marcus is foaming at the mouth. They say he’s going to cut down everyone one by one tomorrow,” the young man said. “His people want to get drunk on Demonic Brandy and spend the whole day on a great cleansing, as they put it.”

“Why? They won’t get any exp.”

“Their stragglers will,” Jasmine answered. “They want to finish the rest of us fast so they can deal with you.”

“Well, will you help us?” Zara asked.

“I’ll say it straight: there’s one of me and many of you,” I answered, and their faces tightened.

Jasmine cast a glance at Zara as if to say I told you so!, but I went on:

“First of all, I try to help those who help me. I just can’t be everywhere at once and protect everyone, especially if they’re spread across the Cursed Chasm. But I’ll give you a tip — ask to join Meister, Quetzal or Hellfish raid. I don’t think Joseph will refuse you. They’re in no condition to be picky with allies…”

Leaving them to think, I went to my interview. Kerry walked along beside me. She said nothing, but still helped to organize a press conference in a separate room, to avoid the nightmare of yesterday when I was standing in the corridor and surrounded by journalists trying to tear me apart.

On one of the holocubes hanging along the corridor walls, I saw Destiny. She was streaming via the official Snowstorm app installed on all the comms handed out to the contestants. Apparently, contact with the outside world this way, controlled by the corporation’s moderators, fit into the terms of the contract. It was a shame I’d come here unprepared. My friends and I could have discussed using that as a method of contact with a cipher!

During the interview, I was asked a bunch of questions. They asked how I had managed to not only clear a floor, but even tame a boss, and about my plans. The streamer girls focused on feelings.

The most memorable question was from Peter Davis, a journalist from Disgardium Daily. He made up for his short stature with a booming voice:

“First of all, Alex, my colleague Ian Mitchell says hello! The old guy’s on the road to recovery, and he says he’s watching you play with interest, and, I quote, he’s very proud of you!”

“Thanks, Peter! I’m really happy for Ian!”

“Incidentally, this question is from him: Alex, do you think that what happened to you today could be ascribed to your good luck? Or did something else play a role?”

“I didn’t expect a question like that from Mr. Mitchell…” I thought for a moment. I wanted to say that there was a grain of truth to Ian’s words, but that the day’s successes were more down to tenacity and strength of will, but that would have looked like dumb bragging.