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

by Dan Sugralinov

  “The punishments.”

  “What?”

  “The punishment TV streams. At home, my parents always kept an eye on what I watched, all the channels had a parental lock on them. So I only learned about the online punishments recently.”

  “Ah, I see. And what surprises you about that?”

  “The injustice.”

  “But wait, isn’t it a good thing that society delivers the verdict, not some judge who can be bribed or a jury wrapped around a lawyer’s finger?”

  “Sure, it’s probably good that not just one person gets to decide whether the accused lives or dies, or even a few people, but everyone. Well, everyone in theory; in practice, most of them probably don’t vote. But even if they all did, would it be justice? The viewers only know what they’re told. They don’t know the first thing about the accused…”

  “Alex, I don’t know where you’re going with this…” Ian was floundering.

  “I just want to say… the majority isn’t always right. Sometimes people are just bored and want entertainment. Blood.”

  “Bread and circuses…” Ian muttered.

  The recording eye went out. It looked like I’d touched on something that couldn’t be talked about publicly. Mitchell wanted to ask something else, but suddenly the door opened, several camera drones flew in and Ian gestured to me that it was time to end the interview.

  Leaving the journalist to finish smoking his cigar, I returned to the hall and immediately fell deaf. An advertisement clip for the Undead was playing, booming out a soundtrack. A holoprojection above us showcased the advantages of the new faction, and on stage, actors performed a theatrical introduction for the Destroying Plague. I swore under my breath. Such bullshit. There were no zombies so beautiful and plastic!

  When the show ended, Kiran and Chloe reappeared. Jackson shouted:

  “And now, folks, we’re saying good-bye and handing off the Games to someone who has been hosting them for almost twenty years! His name is…”

  “Ga-a-a-i-us!” Chloe shouted, and the hall began to erupt with cheers and screams.

  “Ba-r-r-r-ron!” Kiran continued as if introducing a boxing match.

  “Octius!” the crowd roared.

  “Please welcome to the stage Gaius Barron Octius, the irreplaceable master of ceremonies of the Demonic Games!”

  Rock music roared, pounding so loud that the plates on the tables rattled. Kiran and Chloe pointed to the ceiling where a platform was descending. A fearsome armored man with a gray beard stood upon on it, his arms crossed. The hilts of two swords stuck out above his shoulders. He surveyed the hall with a frown.

  Chloe and Kiran disappeared in the darkness. Spotlights lit up Octius. Without waiting for the floating platform to finish descending, the steely gamesmaster jumped off it, landing with a crash of platemail. The music stopped. A few seconds’ silence… Then Octius raised his fist into the air, shouting:

  “I wish all summoned here a night to remember! I declare the nineteenth year of the Demonic Games officially open!”

  The hall lit up with the flashes of devices recording the official start of the Games. A holocube above the stage showed scenes of this year’s contestants. I saw Tissa there, healing me in the final of the Junior Arena.

  “Allow me to introduce all the contestants!” Octius said. “This year we have almost four hundred arrivals!”

  The tables rose one after another on their columns and Guy Barron listed the names of their contestants while the lights moved over them. One of the first tables to rise up was Malik and Tissa’s. My former friends got different welcomes: Malik got scattered clapping, with even a disapproving boo here or there, but Tissa got an ovation.

  My attention quickly switched to the next contestant:

  “R-r-renato Loyola, better known as Quetzal the Destroyer!” the gamesmaster announced. “Member of one of the strongest clans in the world, Excommunicado! Champion of the Solo Arena!”

  It was that same aggressive man with the bow-tie from before. He raised both his arms, his fingers intertwined, and shook them above his head. It turned out Quetzal had tons of fans. I set myself the goal of finding out what the gladiator’s class was.

  “Mar-rr-rcus Jansson, also known as Marcus the Bru-u-i-serrr! Member of another mighty clan — Warsong! Vice-champion of the Solo Arena, losing only to Quetzal in the final!”

  A large man in a colorful short-sleeved shirt rose from the table. He raised his strong hairy arms over his head.

  After introducing both the gladiators, Octius moved to their neighbor:

  “Youlang Hao, also known as spellcaster Youlang from the Azure Dragons!” Octius said. “One of the greatest mages of modernity!”

  I looked at her face on the big screen, a thin Asian woman with short faded hair, tightly pursed lips and a frowning stare from beneath her brows. She sat between Quetzal and Marcus.

  Soon I saw the already familiar rogue Berstan and the ice mage Kara — they had defended the cell where Crag was locked up in the Modus castle. Koba the elvish hunter sat with them — he was the one that carried me on his Golden Gryphon when Crag’s fate was being decided. I wondered what instructions Hinterleaf had given them concerning me.

  Now the lights were on T-Modus, our opponents in the final of the Junior Arena. For the first time, I saw the entire team in the flesh: their captain, Filex the rogue, Yen the archer, Olaf the warlock, Kart the warrior and Kana the druid. They looked much older than back then — the images then were shot when they were fourteen, and now they were sixteen.

  And Alison Wu the templar was with them too! She had been in reserve, but had made her contribution a little earlier. I hadn’t seen Alison since that memorable night at my place, when Scyth was stuck in the Nether. I didn’t know if she and Hung still stayed in touch after we went underground…

  Our table was the last to be shown.

  “Frankie Pontiac, better known as Frankie the Jockey!” Octius announced to the applause of the hall. “Champion of the Gryphon races! The fastest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen!”

  Frankie rose, placed his hand on his heart and bowed.

  “Jewel of the night, the incredible Anastasia Kovalenko, Anna the Sculptor and Miss Disgardium-2074!”

  The girl stood up and waved to the hall, her smile blinding. Only then did I notice that Anna was taller even than Hung.

  “Ooh!” the hall sighed in ecstasy.

  “Joseph Rosenthal, who you all know as Meister the jeweler, winner of the royal and imperial contests for the best jewelry!” Octius paused for everyone to drink in images of the craftsman’s fine necklaces and bracelets. “Just stunning, Joseph! Our viewers will recall that this is the sixth time Meister has entered the Demonic Games!”

  “Only for this singular wine!” Joseph shouted, raising his glass.

  “You pay a high price for our wine!” Octius laughed. “For those who don’t know, after each loss, Meister gave up 1% of his total health to the champions of the Games!”

  “Take it all!” the jeweler waved a hand. “I don’t need it in my workshop anyway!”

  Everyone laughed and Octius moved to my bald neighbor:

  “Theodore Novak, better known as Shemshur the Tamer, master of the Pet Battles at the Arena! I remember that final like it was yesterday! Shemshur’s spectral chimera versus Mushekvi’s rhinoceros… A stunning battle, Theodore! Glad to see you among the contestants!”

  Theodore struck his chest twice with a fist and sat down to roaring applause.

  Octius saved me for last.

  “Alex Sheppard!”

  I rose to a tidal wave of booing and whistling. My heart thumped in my chest and I felt the blood rush to my face. I wanted to hide under the table, but I kept standing there like a tin soldier. I didn’t feel like waving, striking my fist on my chest or smiling.

  “Also known as Herald Scyth…” Octius fell silent, waiting for the public to calm down, but they had no such plans — the shouts drowned out even the music. “Ladi
es and gentleman, I demand respect! I swear on my role as master of the Games, if any of you fail to be silent now, they will get a personal penalty from me for the entire first day!”

  The threat worked and the room fell silent, but then someone figured out a loophole and the rest took it up — they all just started roaring so that it would be impossible to make out individual voices. They all howled.

  Octius twirled a finger in the air and someone behind the scenes raised the volume on his voice sharply:

  “Alex Sheppard, the class-A Threat! Scyth the Herald! I have to give credit to this boy’s bravery for accepting the summons! Remember, Scyth has none of the abilities from his Threat status here! So let’s applaud him for not being afraid to be here in the same room with all of you! A welcome this warm will boil the blood in your veins!”

  Guy Barron Octius smiled and the hall laughed.

  “Sure, you can’t hit Alex here, but what stops you doing it in the Cursed Chasm? Ha-ha!”

  The Cursed Chasm was the damned place where they were going to send us all.

  The master of ceremonies finished laughing, coughed and began speaking again, his voice growing more serious:

  “Before we finish the opening ceremony, let’s wait for the votes! Our viewers have had the opportunity to meet all the contestants. They have seen not only this ceremony, but also your videos and greeting messages. The vote will determine the best and worst contestant of the Demonic Games on opening day!”

  The hall froze. I filled with a sense of foreboding. Thinking about it, I had many fans, especially among those sick of the preventers. But votes were easy to manipulate, and the audience bonus could go to anyone. A one-time ability, artifact or enhancement. The debuff, on the other hand, lasted for a full day following the vote. On the first day, a second death meant ejection from the Games, and running around the Cursed Chasm with a debuff… That would mean guaranteed disincarnation for me.

  “The viewers’ favorite player of the opening day is…” Octius paused as if drinking in the tension in the hall. “Priestess Tissa! My sincerest congratulations, Melissa Schafer! With a slight lead of a fraction of a percent, you overtook unrivaled gladiator Quetzal and queen of beauty Anna! It seems the viewers appreciated your performance earlier on!”

  All the cameras turned to Tissa, who squealed and jumped into Malik’s arms. I looked at her shining face, recalling the night I’d spent reassuring her after she suddenly turned up on my doorstep. Back then, Tissa had been on the edge — in despair after burying her hopes for a bright future. Now the girl was the total opposite of the Tissa I loved.

  Octius raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. A hole opened up next to him and a huge boiling cauldron rose up onto the stage, multicolored smoke whirling above it.

  “The Cauldron! The Measuring Cauldron!” my neighbors all gasped at once.

  “That’s the good cauldron,” Anna said.

  “Remember, there are no secrets on opening day!” Octius said with a flourish. “We’re about to find out exactly what Tissa’s reward will be…”

  Octius stuck an arm into the brew, mixed it and pulled out an orb around the size of an apple. He raised it above his head and it exploded in thousands of colorful sparks. A message flashed above him:

  Banshee Queen’s Cry

  One-time ability.

  On use, makes all enemies within visibility radius freeze in terror for 1 minute.

  “My congratulations to Tissa! This Cry could save this beautiful young woman’s life! But, Melissa… Are you listening to me? Remember, the ability will disappear after one use!”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Octius!” Tissa answered.

  “Great, great! It’s always nice when a young lady like yourself doesn’t argue and just takes advice gratefully!” Octius blew her a kiss. “And now we move on to the worst player of the opening day. Unfortunately, that will be… Wow…”

  As if from nowhere, a glass appeared in Octavius’s hand and he took a big swig. Then he wiped his forehead with his sleeve:

  “Ahem… It’s never nice to give bad news. The viewers have made their choice almost unanimously. With a huge lead over Meister the Jeweler and Infect the Bard, the unlucky loser of day one is… Herald Scyth!”

  What a surprise!

  I knew the voting would be easy to rig, I’d expected those kinds of tricks from Snowstorm, but I’d still hoped for the best until the end. And there was no way to verify the result, no way to argue! If it goes on like this, I’m going to be thrown out of here on day one!

  The gamesmaster raised his left hand and snapped his fingers. A filthy black cauldron rose from beneath the floor, its brown contents emitting clouds of black smoke.

  “And that’s the bad cauldron,” Anna noted.

  Fastidiously dipping his arm in the gloop, Octius pulled out a ball of tar. I watched enchanted as the container exploded into oily smoke and a holographic description of my ‘reward’ appeared above the master of ceremonies:

  Cursed Cripple

  Your limbs are broken. They cannot be healed.

  -75% movement speed.

  -50% damage dealt.

  Duration: 24 hours.

  “Wo-oo-oo!” the whole room roared, all leaping to their feet and shaking their fists.

  Theodore, master of the Pet Battles at the Arena, squeezed my shoulder. “My sympathies, Alex.”

  “Yeah, doesn’t get much worse than that,” Anna said, looking off to the side. “But that’s what you deserve. Success should be earned. You’re just a wannabe who got lucky…”

  Quetzal the gladiator caught my eye, grinned and ran a finger across his throat.

  When the founding father of Snowstorm, Mike Anderson, came on-stage to wish us all luck, I saw none of it. I stared straight ahead with my back straight, gazing at the spotlights until my eyes teared up and remembering that it wasn’t just my enemies watching the stream.

  My parents, Uncle Nick, Ed, Hung, Irita, Gyula, Manny, the people of Cali Bottom and even Aaron Quon could see me then. I couldn’t believe that all the players now hated me for some reason. There were too many on my side.

  And they had to see that I wasn’t broken.

  Chapter 4. Let The Demonic Games Begin!

  AFTER THE CEREMONY, everyone relocated to the recreation level to continue the party. I locked myself in my room instead — I needed to read The Demonic Games: The Complete Rulebook. It would be dumb to start my first day at the Games unprepared.

  The main thing I wanted to find out was which abilities I’d still have in the Cursed Chasm. But I couldn’t find anything specific in the book — it seemed like we would keep our class abilities and everything earned from achievements, but I didn’t know if I’d still have Depths Teleportation. Or Flight. It would be good if I did. But I found no clarity, so I had to come up with separate strategies for the different options.

  The comm I’d been given distracted me a lot at first with constant notifications of new messages in an app created specially for contestants of the Games. Judging by the photos, the other contestants were having a blast. Nobody was thinking about the hangover to come — everyone had a personal Home Doctor in their room to take care of that.

  I put the comm into sleep mode so it wouldn’t bother me, read the rest of the rulebook and moved onto History of the Demonic Games, where I learned that Mogwai had managed to triple his health when he became the champion. His strategy was interesting: the druid powered through the first two-hundred levels, tanking all the bosses and kiting the others, and then deliberately left combat with some gate guards so that his raid group fell. He finished off the boss solo, while the others lost levels and fell behind. His advantage growing, Mogwai returned to the upper floors and started killing players this time.

  In the morning, I woke up to a soft neutral voice:

  “Wake up, Mr. Sheppard! Wake up!”

  Rising, I looked around the room. Nobody there. The voice belonged to my AI helper and seemed to be coming f
rom everywhere at once:

  “Good morning, Mr. Sheppard! Would you like breakfast in your room or would you prefer to visit one of our twelve restaurants?” A holographic panel appeared before me with a description of the venues on offer. “If you would like to take a bath, please indicate your preferred temp…”

  “I’m fine, thanks,” I waved it away. I never had an appetite in the morning, but it was important to eat. I’d need a lot of energy for my first day in the Games. “Breakfast in my room, please.”

  The AI squawked out the names of dishes, projecting their holograms before me, but I cut it off again and asked for an ordinary omelette with bacon and tomatoes, jam toast, coffee and a glass of orange juice.