Path of Spirit (Disgardium Book #6): LitRPG Series, Dan Sugralinov [the reader ebook .TXT] 📗

“Good. Alright, let’s get back to business. We’ve dealt with one thing — if we don’t find another way to get Concentrated Life Essence, then I can enter the Games.”

“We can all fight there, even Tissa,” Infect said. The look on his face was clear — mentally he was already there, winning the Demonic Games, standing on the podium, accepting his trophy, bowing to the applause of the crowd, bowing…

“What makes you think you got what it takes to win, kid?” Gyula asked, frowning. “Entering is just the start!”

Since his friends had died, the builder’s hatred for the Destroying Plague burned hotter than anyone’s. Once he learned that the Nucleus could be destroyed with the help of Concentrated Life Essence, he lit up with the hope of vengeance and a determination to do all he could to help me.

“Firstly, Scyth can’t leave the fort,” Infect objected. “Secondly, there are a few days left until registration ends, and the Games themselves could go on for a month. Thirdly, they will require…”

“Hold on a sec!” I banged my clay coffee down on the table with a thud. “Can anyone tell me concisely and specifically how the Demonic Games work and how the winner is determined? To be honest, I don’t get it: how can a chef defeat, for example, a champion of the Arena? It makes no sense… Everyone is at different levels too! Imagine if ordinary sandbox players had become champions of the Junior Arena instead of us. How can they go up against winners of an adult tournament?”

There was a pause. Irita, Infect and Crawler exchanged glances, deciding who should answer. Flaygray roared through the silence:

“Eniko! My wine barrel runneth dry! Bring me a fresh one at once! And not that elvish piss, get me something…”

“Something that burns!” Naga interrupted him. The succubus ran her gaze across the table, winked to Gyula and Manny, stopped at me and said: “Let me answer your question, Scyth. Azmodan may appreciates nothing but brute force, but Belial, on the other hand, likes to see who is sharp of mind and ready to step on heads to achieve their goals. Diablo prefers those who are strong, but at the same time cunning and treacherous. How do you figure that out?”

A noise came from the kitchen — Eniko was rolling a cask of Cali Homebrew, Aunt Stephanie’s special recipe. Bomber and Crawler launched themselves out of their chairs and elbowed each other in their rush to help the girl. She refused with a laugh and sent the boys back, rolled the barrel to the satyr, who was stood rubbing his hands in glee.

“Don’t burn your throat, Uncle Flay.”

The satyr mage, whose element was fire, laughed so hard he choked and coughed. Nega whipped him in the back — a top-level player like Hinterleaf would have died to that one hit, but Flaygray didn’t even twitch, just stopped coughing.

Now that they had something to drink, both he and Nega forgot everything else and it was the boys’ turn to talk. Interrupting and correcting each other all the way, they told me the following:

The Demonic Games differ sharply from all the other tournaments of Dis. As it turns out, they are a global reality show that begins in real life and in Dis at the same time. The participants are brought to a secret location and housed together. At first, each one undergoes a range of tests that measure physical strength, agility, intellect, stamina, stress capacity and much more. All that data then determines the stats of a newly generated character.”

“So I have a chance,” Infect said. “Everyone will be on a level playing field.”

“Not exactly,” Irita shook her head. “Abilities and crafts will remain, but will drop down to level 1 of rank zero. Don’t celebrate too soon, Scyth, if you think it’ll be a piece of cake for you. The place in Dis where the Games are held is considered cut off from the other planes, so all abilities provided by divinities will disappear.”

“Okay, so they gather the contestants, make them new characters, toss them to some distant plane of Dis, and then what? How do they compete if they’ve all been put on the same level?”

“The contestants appear in a small town surrounded by an impenetrable barrier. Something like a pocket dimension,” Crawler answered. “The place is supposed to be cursed. A few surviving NPCs sell potions, weapons and armor. At the center of town, there’s a sinkhole that goes down six hundred and sixty-six floors deep. On each floor are demon mobs of the same level as the floor number. The lower you go, the stronger they get. Passage is always blocked by a boss whose strength scales with the number of enemies. A killed boss drops some strong gear and doesn’t revive. Some prefer to fight each boss in the hope of experience and loot, while others want to follow behind the rest, taking no risks and leveling up on mobs. They don’t respawn, by the way, so it’s important not to lag behind the group, otherwise only the strong monsters will be left, and you won’t be able to take them out on your own.”

“The aim of the Demonic Games is to reach the bottom of the dungeon and fight the final megaboss,” Infect interjected. “His defeat signals the end of the Games.”

“And if nobody defeats him?”

“Nobody ever has,” Bomber chuckled. “I was just thinking — I should join too. I mean, if the organizers really equalize the character stats to real-life strength, well — I’m stronger than all of you!”

“Wait,” Crawler put up a hand. “The final boss, who is a general of the higher demons — the princes of the Inferno — has never been defeated, it’s true, so the winner is the last to survive.”

“So if you hide somewhere and wait until the boss takes everyone