Path of Spirit (Disgardium Book #6): LitRPG Series by Dan Sugralinov (best free e reader .txt) 📗

right away, I looked around. The sharp scent of musk hung in the air, burning my nostrils and making my eyes tear up.

The narrow strip of rock we were on dropped off sharply behind us, while ahead it descended at an angle, disappearing in thick mist a couple of dozen yards away. A murky forcefield blocked our path that way, with no way around or over it. As I touched it, I felt a cold burn and pulled my hand away. I lost one point of health and my hand went numb for a while.

Mist swirled in the chasm behind, yellow and venom-green with black streaks. Part of it began to form into tentacles that crawled up the cliff face, touching the edges. One felt out a stone a couple of yards from us and I froze unwillingly, seeing that it wasn’t just mist, but something otherly, and definitely deadly: I saw pale green pulsating vessels within the semi-transparent tentacle.

The sky, or whatever it was above us, suddenly lit up and the shapes of gods showed clearly against the horizon. They huddled above an arena like greedy spectators crowding around a table upon which hundreds of insignificant bugs must fight to the death.

There were no names, but the figures of Nergal and Marduk stood out among the rest. Like in the Lakharian Desert, they stood opposite each other in the sky. Between them, I saw the shadow of a woman with snakes for hair, a two-headed god with horns, a sinister figure in a top hat, a colossal winged snake, a man with a huge belly and women’s breasts… There were plenty of others — the entire pantheon of the New Gods in all their variety were here to watch the Ordeal. Hundreds of parasites drinking the life blood of mortals.

That same inhuman voice I heard in the cell drifted down from above. Text appeared before my eyes, copying the voice:

Convicts!

 

The rules of the Ordeal are simple: may the one true innocent be vindicated! The survivor gains the right to live.

 

Before the eyes of the True Gods, all those sentenced are equal. None have that which they have earned, learned or won. Gain strength and claim divine gifts by taking away the lives of others.

 

May none remain but the righteous one!

 

Get ready! Ordeal begins in 02:00… 01:59…

 

Total surviving convicts: 862 of 981.

 

Over a hundred prisoners failed to escape the Vinculum… I could feel the parasites who called themselves the True Gods shifting in anticipation.

The goblin twitched and I returned to him.

“Navalik?”

“Listen…” the goblin groaned. “I know you. The Green League knows you. The higher-ups weren’t lyin’… You’re a stand-up guy, even if you are an idiot.”

“I’ll cover you,” I answered. “Lie still, try to regain your strength.”

“Hack-hack…” the goblin coughed, half laughing. “Dumbass… Only one gets outta here alive… So come on… Do it… I’m ready to go see my ancestors…”

“Go to hell. If you want to die, jump into the chasm.”

“Think, dumbass! I die either way. If you kill me, you get stronger.”

“I’m not going to kill you.”

“You dumb… piece of shit… you’re… barely alive yourself… It’ll give you more health…” The goblin raised his head, spat out a clump of blood, then smiled wickedly: “Can’t let down the Green League, buddy! That’s the point of my sacrifice, mo-fa! You have to get out… Otherwise… I’ll find you on the other side and… take a dump on your chest… while you sleep!”

Navalik laughed hoarsely, gurgling and swearing.

“Dolt… Halfwit! Ugh… May the Sleeping Gods never wake!”

His voice was clear and bright now. I answered automatically:

“And may their sleep be eternal!”

A divine gong rang. The forcefield barrier popped like a bubble, and red letters flashed up:

MAY NONE REMAIN BUT THE RIGHTEOUS ONE!

 

THE ORDEAL HAS BEGUN!

 

It was like a veil was lifted from my eyes. The air cleared up and I saw in full where we were trapped: in the great nothing, on a round arena at least half a mile wide hanging in the mist, a multitude of winding paths of stone stretching out from it. Like the sun in a child’s drawing. At the end of each sunbeam was a pair of convicts. They all leaped into motion, either fighting each other or running toward the arena.

“Don’t waste any time,” the goblin whispered. He closed his eyes, crossed his arms at his chest; he was preparing to die. “You can do it… Come on, kid, I know you can! Pick up a stone… It won’t take… much…”

He was writhing in pain. The bleeding was killing him. I picked up a rough stone lying by the goblin’s head, weighed it in my hand.

Stone (damage: 2)

 

It had stats, and that meant it could be used as a weapon. Perfect. Casting a farewell glance at the goblin, I ran toward the arena.

“Bonehead…” he threw at my back.

I heard his final death rattle as I ran.

And with it, the sound of breaking glass.

Looking back, I saw his body break into shards that glimmered and then disappeared.

“Damn it, Navalik!”

I went back. In the goblin’s place was a black cube that smoked with mist. It was no larger than a billiard ball, but something told me it was too heavy to lift. I touched it and the cube turned into an inky black cloud that poured into my hand. My wounds healed, my health went up, it got easier to breathe. The dull pain beneath my ribs disappeared.

+1 to level. Current level: 1.

 

Lesser Gift of Montu: +1 strength.

 

Attribute point available!

 

I felt eyes bearing down on me. Throwing my head back, I saw that the silhouette of Montu, a god with the head of a falcon, had gotten larger and was lit