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

playing Path of Emperors as a hunter. The spellcasters there couldn’t fly at all,” the contestant Perant said.

“Wow, yeah, just like Dis!” Enigma the saboteur scoffed sarcastically.

“That was a strategy game anyway,” Naiterio the druid agreed. “I remember that game Rakuen, used to be popular way back in 2031, and…”

What Naiterio wanted to say next remained a mystery. Flying out, I hovered before the raid and mentally greeted them all amicably: Run and hide! Ghastly Howl!

Luckily, none of them had any passive resists to crowd control. The players ran in all directions in Fear, screaming and waving their arms. A fun diversion, but not very effective, I thought… and began to improvise.

The mechanics protected the players from falling over the edge, but I corrected that misunderstanding. Floating my listless body through the air, I swung myself at the ones who approached the edge, knocking them into the abyss. There wasn’t enough time to push them all off, but I managed to send around ten down to meet the bottom of the Pitfall. I even scored a strike, knocking three players off at once: Yermak the raid leader, Enigma the saboteur and Naiterio the druid. They had a long time to fall, so after Fear lifted, Naiterio would have plenty of time to finish telling his story.

I even followed them for a while in the guise of Yermak, but at floor 50 we parted ways — I had some unfinished business there.

The conveyor belt was in motion. I revived the mages again, now down another level, checked that the Companions were still being good hosts, copied a new disguise, flew up, sent the survivors from Yermak’s raid running again, threw the ones I could off the edge and went back to revive the mages on floor 50.

After repeating this four times, I suddenly realized I could add removing seals into the routine. Remembering the Companions, I took off again as soon as I broke a seal. I opened six floors in a row, starting at 51, which leveled my Resilience up to 27.

Swearing furiously all the way, the squad of mages was eventually knocked out of the Demonic Games to the last man. Yermak’s raid recovered, but now they moved strictly one at a time, and only by running from cover to cover. From their whispers I learned that I’d really rattled them. When I realized what they were talking about, I laughed to myself: it was my lifeless body that scared them, floating around the Pitfall like a corpse in a pond.

From the conversations in Roman and Meister’s raid, I heard that Destiny’s group had hidden away sensibly within the instances of floors 19 and 20 along with Quetzal and Marcus.

The crafty jeweler, as it turned out, had forged a ring that shows all living creatures nearby, and that helped the raid see that I was close. Roman the troll thoroughly cursed me and I couldn’t use my skills for a minute. As I fell to the deafening laughter of the raid group, I prayed to the Sleepers that I wouldn’t reach the bottom before the troll’s curses lifted.

A minute later, with Flight back, I was already shooting upwards to take vengeance. By then I’d learned how to completely disguise myself as anyone. Copying Jeweler Meister’s appearance, I threw my body into the path of Roman’s group, spread out on the staircase. Bloomer the poet was the first to reach me.

“Woah, Meister, are you alright?” he asked in concern. “Are you sick?”

I had no control of my tongue. I tried to croak: Terribly sick. I want to scream, but emitted only a barely audible groan. Bloomer looked even more worried:

“What? Hey, get down here, guys! Meister’s sick! Hey… How did you end up down here anyway?”

“What’s up, Bloomer?” the real Meister shouted.

Ghastly Howl came in answer. Then came another bowling match with players as the pins and me as the ball, then it was time to fly back down, remove some seals and level up my Resilience. The angriest member of the raid, Roman the curser, I sent to sleep with Lethargy, then waited for the rest to run away and shoved him over the edge.

The greatest treat of it all was to run into the Readers clan — those same players who had refused to let me sit down. Or they ran into me, depending on your perspective. The masters of speed spellreading and friends of Evilfort decided to seek me out after learning that their enemy had been paralyzed.

They kept Invisibility active as they went, attacked me from behind while I was removing the seal on floor 60. I wouldn’t have had a chance against the expertly skilled mages if it hadn’t been for Liberation. It reflected the Sheep class skill back at Levius, and Ghastly Howl sent them into the instance and straight to the boss — ten horrifying flat slugs around three feet long and one wide:

Atling, Demon, level 60 Gate Guardian

 

Dungeon Boss.

 

The transparent Atlings stuck themselves to the Readers from head to toe, digging in with their needle-like appendages, sucking out with a slurp not only their blood, but even their flesh and bones. My stomach turned from the sight of the slugs gorging themselves on the mangled bodies and I flew away, not forgetting to cast Spirit Shackles first.

The grinding process repeated itself: a diversion up above, then revive the Readers, remove some seals…

By the end of the game day, I would have danced with joy at the sight of my skill levels if only I could:

Unarmed Combat: 7.

 

Stoneskin: 6.

 

Meditation: 5.

 

Night Vision: 64.

 

Resilience: 32.

 

Ghastly Howl: 36.

 

Imitation: 9.

 

Lethargy: 3.

 

Liberation: 2.

 

The day, which I’d initially written off as lost, had turned out pretty productive. I had ten disincarnated contestants on my