The Demonic Games (Disgardium Book #7): LitRPG Series, Dan Sugralinov [the read aloud family TXT] 📗

“He’s right! Pure luck and nothing else! Seriously! Think about it, if I’d landed on another floor, I would have died to the first mob! What is that if not luck? I was lucky that Destiny delayed her killing blow, that Mr. Rosenthal got the Escape Pentagram as a reward, and that it sent me to Despot’s level. You saw the rest for yourselves — I did nothing that any other contestant wouldn’t have done in my place. I just ran away!”

They all laughed, Peter loudest of all.

First of all I answered the ones who had supported me from the start, but when they ran out of questions, I switched to the rest and announced:

“Guys, I’d love to stay and talk more, but I’m really tired. My assistant will pick someone to ask a question and I’ll answer, but only in brief so we have time for everyone.”

The questions rained down. Most of them — what level I’d reached, what I planned to do tomorrow, how I got the ability to speed up and move instantly, how it worked exactly, — I answered with either ‘no comment’ or just a shake of my head, leaving the question unanswered.

Some of the questions made me smile, like:

“You have a lot of experience in taming giant pets. Can you tell Despot to fetch your slippers, Alex?”

“Only other people’s,” I answered. “And only with their owners still in them. But I’m afraid they might burn to ash before they get to me.”

Some questions were barbed:

“Mr. Sheppard, will you admit that you’re in league with Snowstorm?” a woman in glasses from the Musical Disgardium radio station asked.

That suggestion was so laughable that I choked. Taking a deep breath in and out, I answered:

“You caught me. They could have just set my spawn point at Abaddon on the first day, but they didn’t! That’s rigging the game for me, no doubt about it.”

The hall broke out into laughter. The woman smiled and asked another question:

“What do you think of your former friend Infect’s music? Mr. Abdualim applied to enter one of our bard contests.”

I could have answered that we all started to cover our ears when Infect started wailing, but I didn’t want to seem petty. Instead, I answered as tactfully as I could:

“Malik writes good songs. He makes a better musician than a friend.”

“Still, which of his songs do you like best?”

“Sorry, I can never remember songs or music,” I shrugged. “I can carry raids, but not tunes…”

After the press conference, Kerry walked me to my room, silently entered behind me and showed me her palm. Something was handwritten in dark red on her hand: Sorry. They’re recording, better not to talk at all. I read it, nodded and my assistant licked her hand.

“Ketchup,” she explained, smiling. “Good night. If you need me, call, I’m in the hotel.”

Once alone, I sat at the table for almost an hour, watching the expanded highlights. My lists of groups needed updating.

I brought up the current contestant leaderboard. All my allies were at the bottom of the table, beneath even the neutrals. Not counting me, Marcus’s people occupied the top spots, with Destiny’s raid following right behind them. Although some of them were probably part of Jansson’s group too.

Leaderboard of contestants as of end of day five of Demonic Games XIX

 

1. Scyth, Human, level 102 Herald

 

2. Marcus, Orc, level 36 Bruiser

 

3. Inchito, Human, level 33 Light Priest

 

4. Youlang, Dark Elf, level 33 Spellcaster

 

5. Caville, Orc, level 33 Dark Knight

 

6. Geyserix, Barbarian, level 32 Berserker

 

7. Enigma, Orc, level 31 Saboteur

 

8. Frankie, Dwarf, level 30 Jockey

 

…

 

18. Urkish, Lopher, level 27 Torturer

 

19. Messiah, Shapeshifter, level 26 Magician

 

20. Destiny, Elf, level 24 Silver Ranger

 

That first line warmed my heart every time I read it. I was basically set up for a win now, but it was too early to relax. Considering there were no penalties for level differences here, I still couldn’t stand up against a large raid. They’d just keep me stunned. As for picking them out one by one, grabbing them and throwing them into the Pitfall… That could backfire: one particularly long stun and my motionless body would drop into Abaddon’s grasping clutches. I had to seriously examine every possibility; these weren’t noobs from the sandbox I was going up against, but some of the world’s leading players.

I needed to come up with multiple plans, just in case. Was it possible that Despot might not be able to leave his floor? Absolutely, like the Companions or Abaddon, who couldn’t cross the threshold of their dungeons even with the gates open.

If Despot couldn’t, then what would my strategy be? Going through the options, I sighed in annoyance. I couldn’t come up with a full-fledged plan. There just wasn’t enough information. And I didn’t know what reward I would get for being named best player of the day.

And I still had to discuss it all with my allies. Nothing stopped me from just forgetting all about them and heading to, say, floor 200 to grind solo. That would make sense! It might even be the right thing to do for achieving my goal. Spending time on helping my allies was a risky distraction, but… ‘Unity is strength!’ was baked into my consciousness. And I’d promised Meister’s raid that I’d tank for them and we’d get through the Demonic Games together. Like Hinterleaf had told me: ‘In all times, one thing has remained unchanged: the ability to keep your word says more about you than anything else.’

I wanted to call Michelle Ardi over too, but Meister was insistent:

“The girl talks too much! I’ll tell her everything she needs to know tomorrow.”

My allies assembled in my room late that night: