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

morning, Kiran Jackson stood on the terrace of his house. His face to the rising sun and his arms spread wide, he took in a deep breath of fresh air thick with prana.

Done with his awakening ritual and ready for the new day, he started to get ready for work. The director of Snowstorm, a mighty corporation that practically ruled the world, could have started showing up at the office in shorts and a t-shirt long ago, but he had a reputation to maintain. Suits, shirts and ties from the best tailors, a mechanical watch of which only one was ever made, cologne sold only to category-A citizens… Props, but useful props, intended to create a boundary between Kiran and everyone else, all those beneath him on the social ladder. The watch on his wrist was merely decorative. Kiran could always see the time without it.

The reflection in the mirror pleased him. There was no sign of his more than fifty years on his smooth, noble face. His Indian roots had given him that proud and hawkish gaze, those expressive eyes. Smiling to himself, he noticed Irma in the reflection, stretching alluringly on the huge bed. Knowing that Kiran was watching her, she cast a soulful glance his way and stretched her legs out from beneath the sheets. The girl said nothing, but everything she wanted was reflected in her stunning eyes. Irma wanted him.

Kiran hesitated. He reached to take off his belt, but suppressed the desire awakening within. Irma always wanted only Kiran, demanding nothing in return. He liked that about her; she played no games. In the first two months of their relationship, he gave her only one gift, a new Ferrari Falco, but the superflyer brought the girl no joy. As far as Kiran had been informed, the luxury present still sat in the parking bay of her apartments, never once taking flight. Then Kiran gave her earrings. Special earrings. One could even call them unique. By the standards of Dis, they were divine-class. Those Irma wore.

“I’m going to be late today,” he warned her.

The naked girl rose gracefully, walked over to him and pressed her hot body against him, electrifying him with her breath and whispering into his ear:

“I’ll wait as long as you need, baby.”

“You’re staying?”

“If you don’t mind. Can I use the guest capsule? I have some work to do.”

“The entire house is at your disposal,” Kiran said, kissing Irma and leaving the house.

Five bodyguard combat droids whirred into action, surrounding him: two transformer orbs and three flying drones. Kiran’s personal pilot already had his Rolls-Royce Ghost ready outside the front door. The procession loaded into the superflyer and it took off into the sky over the island, quickly gaining not only altitude, but speed too. Accelerating to a thousand miles per hour in ten seconds might have been somewhat uncomfortable for the passengers if it weren’t for the compensators — Kiran felt almost nothing.

An hour later, he was sitting at a conference table in an underground Snowstorm bunker. Conference table… This archaic title didn’t reflect the reality at all — there was no table. What was the point when nobody had to write anything down? Each employee had a corporate AI assistant built into their comm bracelet. They had all the information at hand, and it could be easily projected onto the retina, a holoprojector or screen. And since there was no need for a table, everyone could sit as they liked. Chairs, bean bags, barstools at a bar — although all that was archaic too. The company usually organized its conferences in virtspace, but today’s meeting was anything but usual. More important than any in a long time, Kiran thought. Damn that Sheppard!

His employees had convened from all over the world, from various departments. In a company as gigantic as Snowstorm, it was no wonder that the eighteen assembled directors found it hard to figure out precisely what one department or another actually did. But in the light of recent events, everyone had heard of the Threat Department’s work, and now the department’s founder, Bellamy Drake, was bringing everyone in the room up to speed. Kiran liked Bellamy in every sense, which was why he had brought him into Pilgrim. However, Drake bargained himself the right to supervise the Threat Department, no longer in direct control of it, but keeping abreast of all its activities.

Kiran only half listened. Bellamy brought up a table of all the Threat types and went from level Z upwards, describing which exact principle the world-controlling AI used to classify them.

“In setting the potential level of a Threat, the Celestial Arbitration models all the options for the character’s development and makes its calculation using the maximum possible damage that the Threat can inflict on the world’s balance. The levels are a kind of millstone, preventing Threats from reaching their maximum potential.”

Bellamy had almost reached level D, and Kiran knew already that he was about to tell the room about Crag, Modus’s pet Threat, but then his AI assistant distracted him.

TR analysis of subject Irma Leikowic complete. Would you like to see it now? a young man’s melodic voice said, audible only to Kiran. The owner of the voice had long since rotted away somewhere in a Zone. Kiran liked the voice, and its owner, who… Damn him! That traitor had broken Jackson’s heart when he was young and foolish. Learning from his mistake, Kiran remembered him and did all he could to ensure that the traitor lost his citizenship.

He had never had a serious relationship since. With anyone — man, woman, transgender or non-binary. You can’t break someone’s heart if they don’t give a damn about you. Kiran had learned that simple truth well. Moreover, he was now extremely careful when it came to sexual partners. In the depths of his soul, he wanted a person to be with him not