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

as she fought a gnoll and a vampire for the troll’s sword. They were all unarmed and each had a hand on the loot.

In the meantime, the level 1 and 2 hobbits exchanged glances, then attacked me from two directions at once. The halflings’ twisted snarling faces were covered in blood. One had an ear hanging off.

I attacked the higher-level one first. The helmet on his head was too big for him, and he was injured and closer. At the last moment, the hobbit dove under the spear in an attempt to dodge, but was too slow. The blade glanced off his metal helmet and raked down his back, cutting in deeper with every inch.

In the meantime, the hobbit with the hanging ear jumped onto my back and sank his teeth into my own ear. He must have been out for justice, aiming to restore the balance of ears in the universe. He managed it. I screamed and tried to punch the hobbit off me, but the little bastard climbed even higher, wrapped himself around my shoulder and bit me in the throat. Late Navalik would have said I shat myself, and he would have been nearly right. I lashed out chaotically and managed to break the hobbit’s jaw. He whined and fell off. I took up my spear to finish him off and quickly loot what was left of the first halfling…

Chapter 33. Those Who Shall Not Be Forgotten

…WHEN TIME suddenly stopped, and I found myself in the same spot I first appeared in when I passed through the portal from the Vinculum.

Forced ceasefire!

 

Total surviving convicts: 196 of 981 (less than 20%).

 

Get ready, convicts!

 

The gods are preparing great gifts for you! Find them and grow stronger!

 

Ceasefire ends in: 00:59… 00:58…

 

The whole battlefield must have heard my roar of fury. I just had two kills taken off me! The bastard that chewed my ear off got away with it! And that helmet I needed so badly from the first hobbit was just lying somewhere out there now… My first thought was to run back, but a glimmering forcefield stood in the way. My path to the center was blocked again.

I had a minute to rest.

I crossed my legs in lotus pose, closed my eyes and started to breathe, calming my blood and cooling my head. Without any practical purpose, mostly for myself, I read mantras to drive away my rage, spite and disappointment. Fight with a cool head, Oyama had said.

Breathing in and out deeply a few times, I got a grip on myself. The time meant I could review what I’d gained:

Convict Scyth, level 7

 

Vitality: 2.

 

Strength: 5.

 

Speed: 4.

 

Agility: 4.

 

Defense: 1.

 

Health: 20/20.

 

Damage: 12.6.

 

Fatigue: 24%.

 

Throwing Stones: 1.

 

Dodge: 4.

 

Unarmed Combat: 3.

 

Spears: 4.

 

The Spears and Spark of Tlaloc bonuses gave me extra damage, but I was struggling for health. I’d be easy to one-shot.

My level didn’t seem to do anything but show the others how strong I was. The game mechanics of the Ordeal were nothing like those in Dis. Maybe it was another of Snowstorm’s projects, a separate game in a Battle Royale style that they decided not to release, but instead to integrate with their more important brainchild. In any case, the gameplay seemed alien. “Gameplay”… I remembered my bit-off ear and the fury on the hobbit’s blood-soaked face. For most of the convicts, this was life, not a game.

The cosmic gong rang. The earth vibrated and the ringing reverberated so hard through my head that I went deaf.

Ceasefire ended!

 

An orc on the next tentacle of rock looked at me, bared his teeth and ran his finger across his neck. I showed him my middle finger and the orc roared, waved his axe and rushed for the center. I tried running, but a couple of dozen paces later I slowed to a walk — my Fatigue was going up too fast. Half as fast as at the Ordeal’s start, but still fast. Better save my strength for battle, what with my low Vitality.

A ragged beam of light lanced down from the sky right before me. The spot where it landed exploded in a shower of stone dust, and after it settled, I saw a white cube three times the size of a black one.

Great Gift

 

There it was; one of the promised divine gifts. I made sure there were no enemies nearby, then sat down and touched it. A flash of light burned my hand, enveloped my arm and sank through my sleeve into my flesh. A wave of binding cold passed all through my body.

Great Gift of Nergal: ±1 to all stats.

 

Only he who walks the path of Light shall be rewarded!

 

Plus/minus? How did that work? The answer came before I could even open my character profile. Tiredness crashed down on me. It got hard to breathe, my legs buckled. My Defense stat was down at zero, my damage down by a point, but worst of all, I lost one Vitality. Without that, my health dropped to ten points. Now anyone could kill me in one hit.

Thanks for nothing, Radiant One! Although it was partly my fault. I shouldn’t have touched the cube once I saw who it came from! Idiot! Loser! Dumbass! I recalled a few more names from Navalik. Despairing, I staggered toward the arena, realizing that there was no way I could make it out. My enemies were leveling up, and each death made someone stronger. Someone other than me.

Reaching the end of my finger of rock, I saw the orc from before. Dead and shattering into pieces. Above him towered Mano’Hano, the two-headed ogre with the stone club who I’d seen in the crowd