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

autodoc. Destiny reluctantly stuck her cut hand into it. It dripped something burning on the wound and the edges drew together.

She thanked Loran, then sighed, got a grip on herself and apologized to Bella:

“Listen, sorry. I’m just out of sorts. Everything is getting on my nerves!”

“I can see that,” Bella answered. Like any high-status citizen, she maintained her composure, but her displeasure still seeped through.

Today Destiny had had two chances to knock Sheppard out of the Games, and, all emotions aside, she only had herself to blame for what had happened.

When she was aiming at Scyth’s face the first time, she deliberately drew out the moment, looking into her victim’s eyes and enjoying the panic she saw, the fear, the anger, the resignation. Oh, she understood him perfectly.

Put bluntly, the boy had surprised her by showing remarkable tenacity. Even with all the pressure and the hatred against him, he stood strong and fought to the very end. But Destiny’s setback cost dearly: young Melissa Schafer chose that most inconvenient time to use her best player reward from the opening day, and the killshot didn’t land. Destiny called herself every name under the sun for not taking the girl and her boyfriend into her raid, although both had practically begged for it.

And then she’d had another chance, practically guaranteed! All she had to do was release her bowstring when Scyth stood opposite her, completely alone, motionless and without allies. In the name of all the gods, why, oh why did she approach him?! Did she want to look him in the eyes again? See the fear, savor the moment of vengeance? An incarnation of the world’s injustice — an upstart who had the luck to become a top Threat, laughable in his desire to seem cool and self-possessed…

Destiny wanted to destroy that self-possession, see that pretty-boy face twisted in terror an instant before the long serrated tip of her arrow pierced his bright-blue and helplessly wide open eye. And so she made a mistake — she walked toward Scyth. Who would have thought that even here he had managed to grow his skills to the point that he could kill her in a second? And at level one! Cheater, cheater, bastard cheater!

What happened after her death was all the more nightmarish. That disgusting old man Rosenthal also sacrificed his reward to save Scyth. And Destiny herself fell afoul of Quetzal and Hellfish’s furious raids, which Meister’s people had joined like a pack of jackals. Karma, her mother would have said, and she’d be right.

It wasn’t blue blood that made Destiny’s parents category-B citizens. Her father was one of those peacekeeper generals whose efforts were appreciated even by the losers after the war was done. His actions had saved the lives of millions. Later he created a company that grew into a global giant. Her mother founded a charitable fund to help orphaned children, of which there were a great many after the war, and thousands remained grateful to her to this day.

In a word, it was breeding, and there was no getting around it. People in a gene pool polished over centuries will always find a way in life, and Destiny only confirmed the rule. And now a misfit by the name of Alex Sheppard stood in her path, and she seemed unable to remove the obstacle!

The music thundered, the spotlights crossed again on the gamesmaster. Destiny raised her head, felt the reporters’ attention, straightened her back, put on a mask of detachment and smoothed her platinum hair. A girl like her had no right to look unattractive, even when everything inside her boiled over in fury.

“Your attention, contestants! The viewers have made their choice!” Octius annoyed her with his absurd artificial pauses, apparently intended to be intriguing. “In their opinion, the worst player of the day was… silver ranger Destiny!”

And that was the last straw for a camel already overloaded with shame and frustration. Destiny bit her forefinger — a habit from childhood that her elite tutors had never managed to train out of her. Remembering herself, she lowered her hand and smiled widely. Looking at Marcus, she spread her arms:

“Nonsense!”

Jansson couldn’t hear her, but the point was clear without words — the viewers’ decision was absolutely illogical and unjust. The day ended with a triumph for Destiny after all! Even if she did have to ally with Marcus…”

“It’s crap, Des!” Loran said with exaggerated pep. “You’ll survive tomorrow with the debuff, it doesn’t matter!”

In the meantime, Octius expounded from the stage:

“We can only guess at what the viewers’ choice is based on. By all appearances, the reason is that Destiny Windsor made a range of mistakes and failed to send Scyth home, thereby failing to meet expectations of her…”

“The hell with this,” she said sharply, rising and walking away from the table. “I don’t want to listen to any more of this nonsense. I’m going to my room.”

“What about the interviews?” Bella asked, looking perplexed. Destiny never missed the chance to be at the center of attention. “What difference does it make, Des? The important thing is getting the viewers’ attention! And you got even more of it today than Sheppard! You said it yourself, there’s no such thing as bad press!”

“Remember, Des, your contract obliges you to…” Ezekiel began, but Destiny interrupted him:

“I’ll do a stream, that’ll be enough! I’ll answer questions from the viewers.”

The contestants’ streams were monitored by the organizers of the Games, to ensure that any communication with the outside world didn’t give the contestant an in-game advantage.

“Hmm, that will work,” Ezekiel nodded. “Considering almost all the subscribers are your fans, I doubt you’ll hear anything unpleasant there.”

Leaving her friends at the table, Destiny walked to the exit from the hall. There her assistant showered her with platitudes, but she brushed them off and headed for the elevators. Wearing