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

by Dan Sugralinov

  The titan exchanged glances with the werewolf. Both smiled, and Hellfish shouted:

  “Go Scyth! We! Survived!”

  Joyful shouts and girlish giggles of celebration bounced off the walls in an echo of many voices. When they started lifting me up on their shoulders, I made out Destiny’s grubby face among the others, saw her smiling.

  Then, ten minutes before the game day ended, Eynyon’s Gong rang.

  * * *

  “Good evening, contestants!” Octius pronounced grandly. “The seventh day of the Demonic Games is over, and I can confidently say that tomorrow will be the last! Eynyon’s Gong has already sounded!”

  The gamesmaster descended to the stage, looked at our faces, shook his head:

  “Scyth’s fifteen contestants and Youlang… Almost twenty times fewer than the number that came here, but still more than necessary to declare a winner without victory over Abaddon! I remind our viewers that in the Demonic Games, when the final boss remains undefeated, the victor can only be the final survivor when the portal closes!”

  We hadn’t foreseen this at all. After going through so much together, now we were expected to fight each other on the last day? No way. Better to try our luck with the boss!

  Guy Barron Octius shot me a strange look, then continued in his booming announcer’s voice:

  “Considering the circumstances, we will not limit ourselves to the highlights of today, but will instead show you all the key moments of the nineteenth Demonic Games! Let our viewers take stock of the path to the final that all of the surviving contestants have walked!”

  The show began with opening day, when almost four hundred contestants glowed with anticipation while I was declared the worst player of the day and rewarded with Cursed Cripple.

  On day one, everything could have ended for me before it began. Octius reminded us of when Hellfish’s strong group, which, apart from Modus and T-Modus, apparently included Anna from the Damsels, showed for the first time that they planned to at least not harm me while the crowd of players dragged me to the abyss so they could finish me off when I respawned at the graveyard.

  As the holocube showed me sitting motionlessly on the Pitfall floor and meditating, the presenter noted:

  “When Scyth was declared worst player of day one for his ‘inaction,’ none could have imagined that it was these very hours spent meditating on the Pitfall floor that formed the foundation for Scyth’s future victories!”

  Then they showed that bizarre second day when I flew around with the Paralysis debuff, using my own ragdoll body as a bowling ball and the other contestants as skittles.

  I spent day three in stasis with Abaddon’s Curse, but a real slaughter unfolded above me and around me. That was when the paladin Kharmo’Lav broke the seal on floor 666, and Quetzal covered me with the Aegis, saving me from getting zeroed.

  On day four, Abaddon managed to damage the Aegis, and his tentacle-like arms allowed me to level up Unarmed Combat and increase my total spirit. Octius replayed the moment when the trio of gankers attacked me in the woods in the very same forest glade where a battle unfolded the next day between almost all the contestants.

  On that day, the fifth day, Destiny could have taken me out twice, and both times I was saved by rewards given to the best player: first Tissa with her Banshee Queen’s Cry, then Meister with Escape Pentagram. While the enraged Markers and Desters annihilated the crafters and the members of Quetzal and Hellfish’s groups who couldn’t get away, I ran through Despot’s Labyrinth. That night, I was so pleased to have tamed the demon that I couldn’t imagine the problems he would cause later.

  “Truly, the sixth day of the Games was critical!” Octius shouted. “Scyth broke Marcus’s raid, but nearly lost all his allies to Youlang’s trickery! If it weren’t for his demonic ally, that day could have been the last for many of Scyth’s friends!”

  Octius dedicated even more time to the seventh day. As it turned out, yesterday Youlang had hidden inside the Pitfall, which was why she couldn’t activate the Pentagram of Freedom any sooner. Climbing out in Invisibility, she waited for us to go down deeper, and only then sacrificed one of the village NPCs to use her reward.

  Thank the Inferno for Despot. Without him, Youlang would already have been crowned champion of the Games.

  “Miss Hao,” Octius spoke to her. “Are you disappointed that Mr. Sheppard’s raid was able not only to survive the day, but also to profit from it?”

  “Only the weak feel disappointment, Mr. Octius,” Youlang answered disdainfully. She sat in proud solitude on the other side of the stage. “I remind you that Scyth must fight Abaddon tomorrow… Or try to find and kill not only me, but his allies too. Alex Sheppard will not choose the latter. His spirit is too weak. So what remains? The final boss will crush them, and I will be champion. I am patient, Mr. Octius. I know how to wait. And I will not have to wait much longer.”

  She smiled and laughed happily, clapping her hands.

  Listening to her, Quetzal screwed up his face, nodded to something and drained his glass to the bottom.

  “Great speech, Miss Hao!” Octius said, encouraging this new intrigue. “Well, let’s see who the best player of the day was according to our viewers! Opinions are split between Youlang and Scyth, but with a small lead, the winner is… Scyth!”

  The viewers’ selection for worst player was Bloomer again. The poet just grimaced and waved a hand:

  “Give me any debuff you want as long as it doesn’t tie me to one spot! I can’t miss the fight with the final boss!

  After declaring the results of the viewers’ vote, Octius finished the recap:

  “And so, tomorrow the portal to the Cursed Chasm opened by the elf king Eynyon will close, and the spirits of the surviving contestants will be pulled back to Disgardium. How many souls will return is an open question…”

  Guy Barron’s gaze stopped on me and he continued, looking into my eyes:

  “Will Scyth’s raid enter into final battle against Abaddon? Or will they negotiate and choose the strongest among them? Remember, in that case they’ll need to find Youlang too! The question remains open! Tomorrow we will find out the answer!”

  With the excuse that we needed to prepare for the final day of the Games, we quickly ended our interviews and headed to club Boom Boom. It was as if the place had died — only my group and their retinues were there. The whole Ruhm und Ehre hotel had emptied, actually.

  The day had been tough, and tomorrow would be even tougher. We started discussing our plans right away, so we could go back to our rooms and rest sooner.

  “There’s just one question,” Quetzal said. “Do we look for Youlang, or head straight for the final boss?”

  “Can’t the demon find her?” Hellfish asked.

  “I need enemy blood to release Despot from the Pitfall to search for Youlang. There’s nowhere to get any, so there’s no point wasting time looking for her,” I answered.

  “But if we lose to Abaddon, she’ll be the champion!” Destiny burst out. “That’s not fair!”

  “One hour to get to the bottom, another hour for the battle. We can spend the first half of the day looking for her. If we don’t find her, then we head for the boss,” I suggested.

  We settled on that, then went through our plan for the fight with Abaddon in detail. Finally, we parted ways.

  Only back in my room did I let my true feelings come to the surface. There was a reason Octius had looked at me so piercingly at the start of the night, when he had spoken of the two ways to win the Games.

  The collaborative path to victory was harder, and the gamesmaster’s reminders of the previous days made that crystal clear to me. A wretched voice within me whispered insinuatingly that there were millions of non-citizen lives on the line, and that damn Abaddon, whose base health was already six hundred and sixty million, would meet our raid tomorrow with almost fifteen times his current strength.

  Chapter 29. General Abaddon

  THE LAST DAY OF THE GAMES began
for me with a gleaming notification:

  You were named the best player of day seven of the Demonic Games!

  Reward: one-time boost Infernal Tenacity (+90% fire resistance for 1 hour).

  We spent the following four hours in a fruitless search for Youlang. My allies combed through the whole zone while I flew all over, but the farther we searched, the more convinced we became that the spellcaster must be hiding in Invisibility. She had plenty of opportunity to level it up yesterday.

  Flying above the Cursed Chasm, I kept thinking of how to end the Games. All last night I couldn’t fall asleep. I kept racking my brains: betray my allies to save the world, or save my soul and, if we lost, watch millions of non-citizens die? Not an easy choice. And what if my calculations were wrong? What if my plans wouldn’t work for some reason?

  Whatever I decided, for now it was all just thoughts — the choice wasn’t made yet.

  I returned to the raid toward midday. When Quetzal saw me, he shook his head:

  “We didn’t find her. We questioned the NPCs, but nobody’s seen her. Time to head down.”

  “Not good. Well, you guys start heading down. I’m going to pay Abaddon a visit, I need to check something.”

  My allies ran to the Pitfall. Flying past them, I dropped like a stone down the abyss.

  As soon as one of Abaddon’s tentacle-like arms shot out of the gates of floor 666, I went into Clarity and slipped into the instance. There I saw the final boss in all his horror. The sight made my breath catch.

  Abaddon was almost as large as the Montosaurus — his frame loomed from at least fifty yards up. Anthracite black, with leathery torn wings shimmering with purple. At the top of his muscular torso was a triangular head ending in two pairs of horns: the outer set long and thin, the inner pair short, as if decorative. His forearms were clad with spiked armguards, his legs with a skirt of chainmail hanging from a broad belt. Abaddon’s huge hooves could have easily crushed the Bubbling Flagon in Tristad.

  He was frozen by the entrance to a huge cave, its roof supported by columns placed every thirty feet. The entire floor was an oval grotto around the size of three football stadiums. I saw no side corridors. Nether, the instance was too big — my initial plan wouldn’t work. I had to resort to the most extreme option, the one I didn’t even want to think about…

  I focused on the boss’s profile:

  Abaddon the Destroyer, Higher Demon, level 666 Gate Guardian

  Final boss of the Demonic Games.

  Health: 9.3 bil / 9.3 bil.

  How much? Nine billion! There was no way we could get all that health down…

  My worst fears had come true. To the very end, I had hoped that the boss’s scaling would be more forgiving. Even with all my special abilities, I would have to deliver at least a thousand Hammerfists to take down all that health! And that was if every hit dealt full damage, without resists!

  There seemed to be no other way. I had to get rid of my allies. It was the only way I could win the Demonic Games. I had to stab them in the back…

  Ascending, I landed by the open gates of floor 531. Behind him I saw the walls of Despot’s Labyrinth, where I’d roamed while trying to lose my indefatigable future ally. Back then I entered at level 1 and left at 102. It wasn’t long ago, but it felt like a lifetime.

  Despot soon materialized nearby. Stepped out of nowhere, as usual.

  “I’m asking you again. Are you sure you won’t help against Abaddon?”

  “And again, my answer is no,” the demon answered.

  “Then do something else for me…”

  Despot listened to me, cocked his head, grinned and breathed out smoke:

  “You never cease to surprise, ally! Shame that the worn mark of the sleepers covers your soul, but I see the Inferno has touched it all the same. Chaos has much influence here… And the three-headed beast has reached you! Good. I will fulfill your wish.”

  My allies… although how could I call them that after what I was going to do? They were all falling already, with Feather, arms interlinked. I caught up to them around floor 300 and pulled them like a string of balloons to the gates of floor 655.

  “What’s up, is the final boss set up?” Quetzal asked jovially. He nodded toward Bloomer. “Aren’t you scared of our Wild Division?”

  The poet was soundlessly mouthing something, his eyes lowered. He wasn’t upset by being named the worst player in the day for the second day in a row — his debuff today only lowered his critical hit chance by 25%. Boomer was apparently leveling Poetry up to rank two to strengthen the inspiring power of his craft. Unlike the songs of bards, poems didn’t make a big difference, but in our case every little helped. Even the few fractions of a percent to attack speed and damage from Bloomer’s sonnets. Or rather, would have helped…

  “He’s set up,” I answered.

  The titan nodded in satisfaction. I waited for all of them to land, then left them to prepare for the fight. Myself, I took off upwards again to use the time to level up Meditation. And to think it all over one more time.

  I couldn’t level up the skill. Concentration wouldn’t come. After half an hour, I came back to the raid.

  They were all ready, just waiting for me. Off to one side, Hellfish raised his head:

  “How about that food, chef?”

  “On the way, another couple of minutes,” Nobu called back.

  The hobbit was bustling around a campfire, cooking a raid breakfast: Cursed Chasm Omelette. The dish couldn’t be made in advance — all demonic food went bad overnight.

  Done with the cooking, Nobu came closer to me, offered me a bowl of the raid food and a cup of Hell Brew — something like coffee. It bubbled and spat fire.

  “Eat up, boss.”

  Niceguy the alchemist walked over and gave me a few battle potions:

  “New ones, I only just invented them. They don’t stack with the old ones, so drink these.”

  While I gulped down the potions, Bloomer read me some inspiring poetry, Michelle and Alison gave me a couple of regen buffs and Kara cast a Frost Shield on me.

  I looked at their decisive faces:

  “Are we all ready?”

  “Yes!” the raid roared.

  “Ready!” the girls shrieked.

  “Let’s go and kick some demonic ass!” Meister the gray-haired gnome shouted, shaking his fists.

  “Yeah!” Destiny said, catching the group’s mood. “Let’s end the Games as heroes!”

  We headed downstairs on foot, laughing and hyping each other up. We stopped at floor 660. There was an invisible border there beyond which the final boss’s arms couldn’t reach.

  “Alright, let’s run through the plan again!” Quetzal said.

  He quickly repeated the strategy we’d come up with. My task was to distract Abaddon and take his aggro so that the others could drop down with Gnomish Parachutes created by Joker the engineer, and get inside. At the same time as them, I was supposed to fly into the demon’s lair, keeping the demonic limbs on me, and inside… Inside, we’d see how it went. We didn’t know the boss’s abilities — we had to expect anything. Although that was the last thing my allies would be worried about by then.

  “Godspeed, Scyth,” Quetzal said.

  “Nergal bless you!” Alison cried.

  “May they never wake…” Hellfish said. Quietly, but I heard him.

  Wishes of good luck poured in. The girls nearly broke down crying, hugged me as if sending me off to war, but really I was the one sending them to their deaths. I wanted to admit it all, to explain! But I held back.

  Nodding, I took a deep breath as if about to dive into deep water, and jumped off the edge. Turning, I saw everyone else jumping behind me, their parachutes opening.

  My conscience twisted in the depths of my soul, took hold of my throat with a death grip. To see my teammates heading into their final battle… People who had helped me when everyone else was against me, knowing they were headed straight for death…

  I put asid
e my cowardly doubts, concentrated on the current moment.

  The air whistled in my ears. The numbers of the final floors flashed by, blending into a blurry strip of fire. Abaddon’s arms shot up toward me. I went into Clarity to dodge, came out of it… Another fall, another speed-up and dodge…

  A couple of yards before I hit the ground, I activated Flight and shot toward the gates. Abaddon struck right away with Weak Will, just like when everyone first went down to the Pitfall’s floor. I crashed down, losing control of my character and rolling away. As I tumbled, I still managed to bite into the demonic gold coin already clenched between my teeth, to get rid of the debuff. Then I took off again, darting for the gates.