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“We demand that the day be replayed!” he shouted, his voice high, but a little tremulous. “Mr. Octius! We demand a rerun!”

“Rerun!” the group started chanting again. “Not fair, rerun!”

“On what basis?” the presenter asked in astonishment. “Let’s figure this out! Please, all of you, come onstage!”

The protesters walked up onto the stage with Octius, shouting and shaking their fists.

“Well, do begin,” the gamesmaster said, waving a hand to invite the leader of the protesters to the center of the stage. “The entire world is listening to you carefully, Mr. Yaquint.”

Mr. Yaquint, also known as Hifer the artist, stepped forward decisively, wiped away a treacherous tear, cracked his knuckles.

“Nobody!” he burst out. Nobody warned us of the new mechanic of the final boss! We should have been warned that death to the demon is final!”

Wow! For the millionth time, I mentally thanked whoever had covered me with the Aegis. Nothing else would have saved my virtual body from the fate of being devoured in the high demon’s maw.

“Hold on,” Octius interjected. “We aren’t obliged to warn you of anything of the kind! What sort of Demonic Games would that be? Every year our game designers come up with special features, surprises for the contestants, and this year one of them was final disincarnation! It is believed that if you fall into the clutches of the demon whose name I won’t mention, lest I accidentally summon him…” Octius paused to let the hall appreciate the joke and laugh. “If the demon from floor 666 swallows you, you’re done. The Demonic Games ends for you.”

“We demand a re-run! Or else… Or else…”

“We’ll sue you!” a long-legged woman with a horsey face said, joining Hifer. Yaquint took a step back, giving her the spotlight.

“In the names of all those who fell, I declare that we will not leave this alone!” She broke off, took in a lungful of air and continued on the outbreath: “We’ll take you to the UN court! According to the agreement we signed before entering the Games, Snowstorm is…”

“Stop!”

Octius, who had just been carefully listening to something in his earphone, interrupted the woman and made a gesture with his hand at his throat. The woman’s audio feed was switched off, but she kept shouting ever more forcefully. The gamesmaster tentatively patted her on the shoulder, smiled cordially, then spoke to all those who had become the demon’s lunch:

“My friends, we will pass this question to the company’s legal experts for you. They will meet with you after dinner.”

“What? What’s he saying?” The holocube showed the plaintiffs looking around in confusion, not knowing whether to celebrate or keep complaining.

“My dear Mr. Yaquint and Mrs. Borovski, and all the rest of you who fell victim to an unfortunate fate at the bottom of the Pitfall!” Octius placed a hand at his heart and spoke louder: “I promise you, we will find a compromise!”

The protesters roared in enthusiasm, started hugging each other and crying again, this time out of joy. Slapping each other on the back, they returned to their seats.

After waiting for them to leave, Octius finished speaking:

“That said, no matter what our lawyers decide, it was all part of the gameplay! The disincarnation of the characters whose souls were eaten by the boss on floor 666 is final and not subject to review!”

Lifting myself up a little, I saw the path to the stage now blocked by a ring of security droids and guards in black suits. The contestants who had just been celebrating their rescue started piping up again, tried to get back on the stage, but they weren’t just stopped, they were led out of the hall.

“Drama…” Octius shook his head and his tone turned tragic: “My heart bleeds every time I witness the like. Every time! But what can you do? It’s part of the game! Today’s surprise from the devs could have ended the Games before time, leaving only a few lucky contestants alive! But I’m getting ahead of myself…”

We were shown clips of all the contestants gathered by the Pitfall, the mages casting Feather on them. Some got a Gnomish Parachute from the engineers among them.

They jumped into the Pitfall from all sides, taking turns so they didn’t get in each other’s way. After floor 300, Hellfish’s group joined hands, holding themselves together apart from the others. Kart the warrior, as the heaviest, canceled his Feather, which sped up the group’s fall and let them outpace the rest. It went unnoticed because Kara the mage recast Feather on him a couple of seconds later, and they matched speed with the other players again, but now they were around fifteen feet lower.

Octius commentated the footage:

“Hellfish’s group has been acting aloof since the first day. Strange that the conspirators of this event didn’t take that into account. Or did they? Listen to what Quetzal said.”

The holocube brought up Renato Loyola, fresh out of the immersion zone. He exchanged glances with Marcus Jansson and approached the journalists with a frown.

“I was against this plot from the beginning!” he barked right away, without waiting for questions. “The kid proved his point, earned his chance!”

“Mr. Loyola, did you account for the fact that Modus and the Travelers might stab you in the back?” the familiar Axel Donovan asked.

“We accounted for everything! We knew those clans were allies of the Threat. There was a risk, and we were prepared for an attack from them. But what could a handful do against three hundred enemies?”

The video swapped to the bottom of the Pitfall.

“This, Mr. Loyola,” Octius said, chuckling. “Boom!”

There was the sound of a shot, stretched out by the slow-motion footage, which showed the bullet leaving Hellfish’s rifle, tearing space as it went and taking off the rhinoceros head of Messiah the shapeshifter. Then the angle changed to show Filex

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