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

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