The Demonic Games (Disgardium Book #7): LitRPG Series

by Dan Sugralinov

  I caught a sympathizing glance from Ian Mitchell. Next to him sat a short and balding man in horn-rimmed glasses — Clark Katz, editor-in-chief at Disgardium Daily. He frowned, studying my reaction.

  Anger bubbled inside me like molten lava, burning with the desire to break free, but I clenched my will in my fist and somehow kept my back straight, my head up and my expression stony. I just ground my teeth.

  Hairo had said that I might have a hard time with the other contestants. He even predicted Malik’s behavior: You kids are going to be on your own there, he had said. It’s fully possible that the corporation finds a way to get to your friend. My predictions might not come true, but best be prepared for everything.

  Staring at a single point, I disassociated from the jeers, from the image of Malik and Tissa embracing, from everyone shaking their hands and slapping them on the back. What next? Should I expect betrayal from the other Awoken? A feeling built in my chest that the lava had frozen, had all burnt out and left only ash behind, and now even that was dropping into a cavernous black hole that swallowed up my enthusiasm, my joy at having arrived at the Games in time, my hopes… Trixie, Malik, Tissa… Who next? Hung? Ed? Irita?

  “Ahem…” Someone coughed into a microphone and knocked on it. “Ladies and gentlemen, a moment of your silence and attention please! Mr. Sheppard, and Snowstorm directors Mr. Jackson and Miss Cliffhanger are about to give a joint statement!”

  Jolted back to reality, I suddenly realized I was no longer alone. To my left sat Kiran, to my right — Chloe. Smiling, businesslike. Jackson, leaning down beneath the table as if to pick something up, sprayed some Accelerant into his mouth.

  The room fell silent. The eyes of three hundred contestants and just as many journalists all fell on me. In the sea of faces, I saw only the three I knew well: Malik and Tissa, exulting, triumphant, and Ian Mitchell, sympathetic. The old journalist caught my eye, nodded encouragingly and closed his eyes for a moment.

  “Mr. Sheppard?” The host of the press conference reminded me why I was there.

  “Hello…” I said, tapping the microphone to make sure it worked before continuing. “As you all know, I nearly didn’t make it to the Games. I arrived in the final hour of registration, so I didn’t get much chance to talk to people. But what I did hear was enough. Nobody here wants me to compete. People think I don’t deserve it, that all my victories were dishonest. I can’t fully agree with that, but I do admit that I owe all my successes in Dis to my unique status…”

  I paused and Kiran immediately started off his script:

  “What are you talking about, Alex, buddy? You can’t mean you want to resign?”

  “Oh, God, Alex, don’t do it!” Chloe said, flinging up her hands almost naturally. “The Demonic Games is the perfect place for you to prove that your success is anything but random!”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re here to report an unprecedented event!” Kiran said, smiling and addressing the whole hall. “For the first time since the inception of the Games, a globally renowned Threat has entered! But the opening night may be marred by some sad news…”

  He turned and looked at Chloe. Cliffhanger picked up the speech like a professional runner in a verbal relay race:

  “Well, it’s quite understandable. Young Alex has been through so much… Just so much!” She clasped her hands together. “The weight of all that responsibility, the constant challenges from the entire game…”

  “And global!” Kiran said.

  “Yes, and global community. It’s a terrible shame that the world is going to miss out on Alex in the Games! Snowstorm tried to convince him to change his mind. Heck, we still are trying, right, Kiran?”

  “That’s right,” Kiran shook his head. “I’m sure it’s not over yet and Alex will think again…”

  “I would like to remind everyone gathered here of the words of founding father Mike Anderson!” Chloe said imploringly. “Mr. Anderson said that Threats are an important part of Disgardium…”

  She continued her speech, convincing the entire hall with total certainty that Alex Sheppard would no longer be taking part, and that this was a terrible loss for the Demonic Games. My lips smiled on their own — I was imagining their faces when I said what I was about to say.

  Finishing, Cliffhanger turned to look at me.

  “What do you say, Alex?”

  “I can’t disagree with Mr. Anderson,” I said. Chloe nodded approvingly and Kiran clapped me on the shoulder. “And you really make a strong argument…”

  “Your decision?”

  “I agree with you, you’re right!” I said, addressing the hall. “Listen, I admit that I leveled up thanks to my status. But the Demonic Games makes us all equal, right? I’m going to try and prove that I can successfully play without the perks of being a Threat. I’m going to take part! I can’t deprive the audience of the sight they’ve been waiting so long to see…” I finished, spreading my arms.

  Then the real chaos started. Kiran started hyperventilating, Chloe stood opening and closing her mouth and the journalists shouted questions. Somewhere out in the great nothing, the Sleepers stopped tossing and turning. The streamers in the first row shouted as they commentated their feed.

  Behind them, Ian Mitchell was roaring with laughter and rubbing tears from his eyes. He slapped Katz on the shoulder. Katz gave me a thumbs-up.

  Chapter 3. Cursed Outcast

  NO MATTER HOW BRAVE a face I put on when I said I was staying in the Games, no matter how Kiran’s twisted snarl of fury warmed my heart, I still felt mostly dead.

  My emotions showed only while I spoke, shored up by Ian’s silent support and my own confidence that I was doing the right thing. But then…

  An icy indifference overtook me, as if I’d brought Cold-Blooded Punisher into the real world with me. The sight of Malik and Tissa embracing didn’t bother me, nor the catcalls from particularly vindictive contestants, nor the falsely sympathetic questions from the journalists. My brain seemed to understand — just a little more and I’d either fall into the despairing dark of depression or I’d go insane. Or maybe it was the Sleepers helping me — they always seemed to be with me, somehow. Whatever the reason, my state didn’t change: I stopped feeling emotions, deciding to do what I must and let be what would be.

  Ian disappeared into one of the press center’s capsules after whispering to me that my friends (if they even were friends) Edward Rodriguez and Hung Lee had contacted him, wanting to comment on the situation with Tissa and Malik.

  I stayed sat behind the table, my arms crossed, seeing nothing until I suddenly realized that someone had been shaking me for some time:

  “Alex! Hey, Alex!” I turned and saw Kerry. “Well, thank Two-horns, you woke up! Come on, the communal meal is about to start! That’s it now, kiddo, you’re officially a contestant in the Demonic Games and obliged to follow the organizers’ rules! You have a contract!”

  I made myself stand up. Kerry stroked my cheek and said quietly:

  “Now you’ve done it… Chloe is screaming and crying, Kiran is out of his mind with rage!”

  “I have to compete. They all think I’m a coward since I didn’t accept the challenge in the desert.”

  “I know, I know…” She sniffled, hugged me and held me close. I scented sweet perfume that reminded me of rotting flesh. “I know. They all just see your status, but they forget you’re just a kid…”

  “Ahem,” someone delicately coughed nearby.

  Pushing myself away awkwardly, I saw a girl on rollerskates, in a tube top and the shortest skirt I’d seen in my life. The girl smiled warmly, but her eyes were serious. One flashed red — she was streaming.

  “Hey, Alex! You’re live on the air! All forty million of my subscribers are watching you and they’re bombarding me with questions. Will you answer some?”

  “Do it,” Kerry whispered. “Win them over!”

  Nodding, I forced a smile:

  “Hey!” It was hard for me to concentrate; the
girl’s legs ended at around the level of my stomach. “Hey, uhm…”

  “Oh, sorry, I thought you know me,” the streamer said, blushing. “I’m Lia Solo, but that doesn’t matter, millions are watching you. I’m not here, I’m just the eyes of the audience!”

  I got a grip on myself and spoke:

  “Hey, Lia! Hey, viewers! You probably saw what happened. My friends… former friends, Tissa and Malik… That was sudden. And it hurt. So sorry if I don’t seem too friendly right now… Anyway, ask your questions.”

  “Oh, yeah! We’re sooo sorry that happened!” Lia cooed. “What are you feeling right now?”

  “Sadness. Disappointment.”

  “Be yourself!” Kerry whispered in my ear.

  “Hell, I’m having a shit time, guys! I’m used to hate from strangers, but friends… That’s something else.”

  “We know just how you feel, Alex!” Lia clapped her hands together. Her sympathy even seemed sincere. “Another question. Your class, Herald. Tell us, what’s special about it? There’s nothing about it online or in the game encyclopedia!”

  “I’m very charismatic,” I laughed. “That’s a decisive stat for the class. I also have a high level of Persuasion and…”

  “That’s enough, sorry, sorry!” Kerry moved between me and the streamer. “Alex is late for the shared meal!”

  “Hold on, Alex!” Lia shouted as we left.

  Kerry walked me out of the press center, looked around and hissed:

  “Are you out of your mind? Keep your secrets to yourself!”

  “I know what I’m doing! I didn’t plan to tell them more than they need to know…”

  I didn’t remember anything about our path to the ceremonial hall, I was so deep in thought. Kerry gave me advice, tried to convince me that I had to be strong, and even explained her own stake: the assistants to the players made bets between themselves with a big prize pool — the longer her ward stayed in the game, the greater her reward. The company bonus system worked the same way.

  We reached a wooden door with a wrought-iron handle… not a door at all really, but a full-fledged set of gates, and Kerry handed me over to a servant droid. The huge gates opened inwards.

  Following the droid, I crossed the threshold and looked around. The hall of ceremonies was impressively large. It even made me wonder for a second if Snowstorm had learned how to work with parallel dimensions. How else could such a massive room fit into the hotel?

  The hall was like a two-tiered amphitheater. At its center was a round stage, not yet lit. Shadows moved there behind holographic stage curtains. Dozens of tables for the contestants were arranged around the stage. Unoccupied tables sank into the floor, and as soon as you approached them, they rose on special pistons. The journalists and VIP guests were seated on the upper level.

  The droid brought me to a table with one empty chair.

  “Mr. Sheppard, your seat is here. Please sit down.”

  My neighbors were silent a moment, then just resumed their conversations without greeting me.

  My comm told me that the white-haired beauty sat to my left was the sculptor Anna, Miss Commonwealth 2074, and the portly old bearded man sat opposite was a grand master of Jewelcrafting and winner of a professional tournament. Next to him sat a brown-haired man with high cheekbones called Frankie, champion of Dis in gryphon racing. The man was flirting with Anna and dropping sarcastic comments. The fifth at our table was bald Theodor Novak, also known as Shemshur, a tamer, and the only one to shake my hand. He sat to my right, and was here as champion of the Pet Battles.

  A waiter appeared like a shadow behind me and asked what I’d like to eat, rattling off several dishes with unfamiliar names. I chose some strange fish with an odd-sounding side and an unknown sauce. There was also salad, soup, little canapes with black and red caviar, dessert and all kinds of other fancy delicacies. I declined offers of alcohol; I needed a clear head, especially with millions of viewers watching. I could feel hateful stares on me too, like that guy Quetzal’s — the one who’d tried to drill a hole in me with at the registration desk.

  When I’d finished my soup and was waiting for the waiter to serve the fish, the stage in the center of the hall lit up. Triumphant orchestral music began to play and lasers flashed. The room fell silent and started to watch.

  Chloe Cliffhanger emerged first, wearing a long silver dress, a glimmering crown atop her head. She effusively welcomed all the contestants on behalf of Snowstorm and then handed over to the presenter of the opening ceremony… Aaron Quan would have fallen off his chair!

  Slowly, snow-white wings beating behind them, two angels descended to the stage: Denise Le Bon and Brad Pitt-66. Brad Pitt-66 was the most successful reincarnation of a famous actor from the start of the century — an android made to be a perfect copy of the living actor. The synthetic, introduced to the public in 2066, had probably long since overtaken the human original in terms of viewer count and money earned.

  “The angels greet the chosen ones!” The human and android flew in a circle around the stage.

  “Well, people!” Denise shouted. “Are you ready to show the world what you can do in the Demonic Games?”

  “Yes!” the crowd roared.

  “I can’t hear you!” Brad cried.

  Beautiful Anna stood up and shouted:

  “I love you, Brad Pitt-66!”

  Frankie frowned, destroying the android with his gaze:

  “Rustbucket!”

  The show lasted around an hour. The audience ate, drank and delighted in the stars’ performance. Famous singers and bands took to the stage, stand-up comics and great champions of the Games of the past…

  I had no appetite, but I had to give the chefs their due — I still ate all the fish. Then I dug around in my desert with my spoon until I felt someone’s eyes on me and looked around. Ian was waving to me from the second tier. He pointed at me, then at the door to the right. Nodding, I headed there and found myself in a smoking room. There was nobody there except a robot cleaner.

  Ian showed up a minute later. Spreading his arms wide, he hugged me and slapped me on the back:

  “Finally, Alex! There were too many eyes after the press conference, but here… Glad to meet you in the flesh! You’re a lot more real here, so to speak!”

  “Likewise, Mr. Mitchell. You’re a little different from the virtual you.”

  Mitchell let me go, chuckling and rubbing his bare chin.

  “Yeah, I’m still getting used to being clean-shaven. Wanna sit down?” He pointed to a leather couch.

  I sat. Ian sat down next to me and started cutting a cigar. Staring at it, he spoke quietly:

  “Your friends are not happy. Edward said he’s going to kick those two, and I quote, ‘the fuck out of the clan.’ Hung promised that to ‘strangle that bastard personally.’ I put a hold on the interview. The way Clark and I see it, you’re better off playing like you’re alone in this. You’ll get the sympathy vote that way.”

  “Got it. Thanks, Mr. Mitchell. One good thing, at least.”

  “Good luck, Alex!” Ian lit up his cigar and breathed out a cloud of smoke. “Will you give me a quick interview?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Great! Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  Ian’s eye lit up red, showing that he’d started recording.

  “How are you feeling on the whole? Liking the ceremony?”

  I shrugged.

  “It’s all just great. My friend Aaron Quan is a big fan of Denise. In case she’s listening, I want to say a big hello to her from Aaron. Denise, he’s your biggest fan and dreams of meeting you!”

  “I’ll tell Denise,” Ian smiled. “What about you? Would you like to meet her?”

  “We’ve met, she presented our team an award at the Arena.”

  “All the same. Do you like her?”

  “It would be silly to deny her beauty, Mr. Mitchell, but my heart belongs to someone else… No, no, no names.”

  “At least
a hint. Does her name contain the letter ‘I’?”

  “Uhh… Fine, I can tell you that. Yes. But not a word more!”

  “Alright,” Ian winked at me, thinking he’d guessed right. “I think your viewers and readers will understand why you’d rather keep the lucky girl’s name secret. Alex, I know that the last half a year has totally transformed your life. When they imagine your huge bank account, people often forget that you’re just a schoolkid. You’ve learned and seen many new things. Tell us, what surprised you most of all? The opportunities you unlocked? The attention from the press?” Ian smiled. “Or from girls?”