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

“Well, it’s dumb for us all to hang around here,” the spellcaster argued. “How am I going to help you? Or Frankie? Our strength is below ten, and our carrying capacity is low too.”

“Good point… Alright then!” Marcus roared again. Either he always shouted or his character’s voice was set that way. “Mages, healers, take a couple of meleers and head for the village! Youlang takes the lead! Meister is a cunning bastard. He’ll try to get away. They’re about to be thrown out of the tavern, so be on guard! The rest of you — stay here…”

My anger at myself boiled up again with renewed strength. By promising to protect Meister’s raid, I might have doomed them. They were sitting there and hoping, but soon they’d be thrown out of their rooms, and then… Damn it! If only they’d hidden in the cleared instances like Modus and the Travelers, they would have had more of a chance. As it was… It would be Joseph’s tale of his cousin Elizar and the MacMillan neighbors all over again. Why the hell had I come out of Clarity?! I should not have done that!

“Hey, Marcus, we have some planks, but no ropes. They won’t work anyway, they’ll break. We need chains!”

The voice belonged to light priest Inchito. He was the one who had suggested fashioning some kind of sled in the first place. So that was who really ran the show in Marcus’s raid. What was the orc? Just a brainless bruiser. But then Marcus made me doubt my conclusions, growling:

“So go to the smithy and get some, Inch, you asshole! Take someone with you! Every second counts! Make sure the chains are thick, and grab spares. And some planks too!”

The priest didn’t argue, taking several men and running after Youlang’s group to the village. I sincerely hoped that they fell into a hole, ran into a demon, got hit by a falling meteorite, or at least tripped over. Every minute of petrification that passed increased my chance of rescue.

Marcus sprawled out next to me, crossing his hands behind his head and leaning back on my arm. He plucked a blade of grass and tickled my nose — naturally, I felt nothing.

“Another ten minutes,” he grinned, “and you’re dead meat. Devoured by a high demon. I’m not like Destiny, this is nothing personal. You get it, right? Games are games. The strongest wins. No hard feelings, Scyth.”

This orc was far from simple. He was thinking about the future, worried I might take vengeance in big Dis! I couldn’t answer, so I just waited for him to say something else. It was the perfect time for a classic villainous monologue, but instead, Marcus straightened and started pacing the cemetery, quietly giving orders to his men. I couldn’t hear what he said, so I just watched the petrification timer: 36:31… 36:30…

Soon Inchito returned with the others. They had brought chains, and I was surrounded by activity again. I got petrified lying down with my arms close to my body, so the only place the enemies could attach the chains was at my feet.

They dragged me like a dead man, legs first. Fifteen people pulled and just as many walked behind, some of them pushing me by the head and shoulders.

We moved slowly, but surely, and I thanked every obstacle we got stuck on — each won a little time, and a little hope that the petrification would end before I was dragged to the Pitfall. It was far beyond the bounds of the village, and our path there was far from smooth. That damn timer ticked down too slowly: 24:55… 24:54…

“Get a move on!” Marcus boomed. “Time, damn it! We can’t waste a chance like this!”

The orc kept on shouting, urging on his comrades. I started to wish my hearing had gone when I got turned to stone.

When we passed the village, I heard footfalls and heavy breathing behind us, then Messiah’s excited voice:

“I’ve brought her, Marcus! Just like I promised! I’ve proven myself!”

“What’s that?” the orc muttered. “What have you proven? To who?”

I didn’t see what was happening, just heard their voices.

“Here, look. Destiny!”

“What? Where? In your pocket?”

“Kind of, yeah, in dove form. Careful, she only has ten health…” I heard a squawk, flapping, an angry cooing. “Don’t strangle her!”

“Ha-ha! It really is Des!”

Marcus and Messiah fell back to the rear, but kept following behind us, so I could still hear their conversation.

“Can she understand us?” Marcus asked.

“Sure can!” the magician answered proudly. “But if you don’t want her to see or hear, put her away in your inventory.”

“How long does it last? I don’t see a timer…”

“Half an hour at least. The skill isn’t high level, the reverse transformation is random. We’re lucky she’s small now, or it wouldn’t have worked out.”

Marcus was pleased. From what I heard, he hid the dove away in his inventory, ordered Messiah to go to the graveyard and help the ones left there to camp my allies, then caught up to the group dragging me along.

“Don’t forget to drink some Demonic Brandy, magician,” he called to Messiah’s retreating back. “Or else they might think you’re one of them and kill you.”

We left the village behind us. I couldn’t feel the heat from the Pitfall, but it was clear by the scorched earth that we were getting closer. And still almost twelve minutes of petrification left.

Marcus walked alongside me. Pulling out the dove, the orc spoke to it:

“You never did show up last night, gorgeous. What do you think, should I break your neck now, or are you going to change your mind and come by tonight? Nobody else is gonna help you, so let me know that you agree.”

The dove squawked in displeasure.

“What’s that, yes or no?