The Demonic Games (Disgardium Book #7): LitRPG Series by Dan Sugralinov (e book reader free .TXT) 📕

The morning began with an insistent knock at the door. Wiping my eyes, I covered myself with the bedsheet and shuffled over to open it like a sluggish specter. Miss Kalinovich from my health class would have noted with disappointment that my ‘growing body needs lots of sleep!’ But Miss Kalinovich was far away…

Kerry stood at the threshold, shifting from one foot to the other. Pushing me aside, she forced her way in. My assistant was breathing heavily as if she’d just run a marathon. I closed the door and followed the girl into the room, yawned widely.

“Good morning to you too…” I said. “Has something happened?”

“Sure has! I don’t know what, but you’re going to get killed today! You’re getting knocked out!”

“There are still three hours left before the Games start, Kerry,” I complained. “I need to sleep! You must know you aren’t telling me anything I don’t already know.”

Kerry thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right… Go shower, I’ll make some coffee. I’ll tell you everything after…”

I took an ice-cold shower, then sat down in an armchair across from my assistant. She nodded to a cup of coffee. I took a gulp and grimaced — three times stronger than I was used to.

“Alright…” the girl began, calmer now. “This morning, when I was having breakfast with the other assistants, I noticed them looking at me and smirking, whispering, giggling…”

“Uhm… Maybe because you forgot to wear a…” I shook my head and turned my eyes away from Kerry’s enormous breasts shining through her mesh gown. “A bra, that’s what they’re called, right?”

“Pfft…” She waved a hand. “Keirinia, another assistant, doesn’t wear anything at all. Who cares? There are no kids in the hotel.”

“Still, though…” I handed her a blanket. “Put this on for me, will you?”

Wrapping the blanket around herself, she continued:

“I listened in on their conversation, Alex. The other assistants were whispering, discussing some plan. Some idea the players have for taking you out. Nobody wants to wind up like the mages and the Readers. Even old enemies are getting together. Because everyone knows that you won’t have any way to resist them today and you’ll go down easy. You have to be ready..!”

“I think you’re exaggerating,” I said, trying to shrug it off.

“I’m not! This is very, very serious!”

For a second I caught some of her panic, but quickly pushed it down. What could I do right then? Nothing. How could I change anything? I’d only get worked up about it. All I could do was wait.

But two and a half hours later, as I logged into the game, I realized Kerry was right.

Chapter 11. Abaddon’s Curse

MY CHARACTER APPEARED in the Cursed Chasm where I left him, at the bottom of the Pitfall. My ability icons had lost their color, which meant I had no skills.

Flight wasn’t working. I tried to take a step, but couldn’t lift my soles from the ground.

The reason was a debuff:

Abaddon’s Curse

You have not killed a single demon. For your cowardice and lack of initiative, Abaddon the Destroyer, general of the demon prince Belial, has inflicted a curse upon you. Due to the weakness of mind it causes, you have none of your learned skills and earn no experience. You have lost your ability to restore health and you are bound to the location of the curse.

Nothing in Disgardium has the power to aid you!

Cowardice? Lack of initiative? I wished I could visit Abaddon in the Inferno and show him what Reflection and Sleeping Vindication could do!

Nether! I couldn’t even sit down properly; the soles of my feet were stuck to the earth. I couldn’t do anything at all, and I tried everything: lying down, jumping, standing on my tiptoes. Meditating didn’t work, and neither did Hammerfist and Ghastly Howl.

Toward the end of the first hour of the third day, the space above me began to ripple with a multitude of dots. They came steadily closer, eventually taking on the shape of human beings. Three hundred contestants slowly descended, all carried by Feather.

Long ago, long enough to be in a past life, Crawler had cast that spell on us so that we could drop down to the Olton Quarries and complete the Evil from the Depths instance. The memory flashed up with a wave of nostalgia, but retreated when the present turned pressing.

As they came within firing range, the contestants attacked, driven on by Destiny’s triumphant shriek:

“Eat this, scumbag!”

Hundreds of enemy spells, arrows, darts, spears and bolts flew toward me.

The bottom of the Pitfall was round like a stadium bowl, yawning with holes and bubbling with tiny valleys and peaks. I stood on one of them, not far from the gates.

A desperate thought entered my mind: Abaddon had taken my skills, but did that include perks? Would Second Life work? Or would my death be final?

I hated the thought that in his final second in the Cursed Chasm, Scyth would look like a pathetic coward, that people would remember him that way. So I squared my shoulders, straightened my back, looked up at the glimmering mass of arrows, darts, spears and spells shooting through the air toward me. Gritting my teeth, I poured all my strength into holding back the urge to flinch.

It all took a fraction of a second that lasted a lifetime. A huge icicle reached me first, hitting me in the chest. My heart skipped a beat, and when it started again, I was still alive, but couldn’t move. A thick layer of ice blocked my view, the frost piercing through to my bones. And still I saw what was happening above me through the distortion of the ice.

An explanation appeared beneath my