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

to happen after dinner, there’s no way I can win now, so there’s only one option left. If anyone from your group wins, I get the essence. Believe me, I have something you want in exchange.”

“I don’t get it,” Bloomer shook his head. “You think we have a chance? Sure, we didn’t do too badly today, but…”

The poet trailed off, and the troll curser picked up the thought:

“And even if one of our raid wins, why are you talking to us? Wouldn’t it be easier to make a deal with the winner when you know for sure who it is?”

Roman’s question was easy to answer, but I said nothing. It’s easier for people to give up birds in the bush when they have one in the hand. Especially when the one in the hand is bigger. To put it another way, they thought they were selling me thin air; none could be sure they’d win.

“Anyway,” Meister said, “I find it hard to imagine what you might be able to offer us of equal value, Alex. Three thousand bonus points to a priority stat… That’s a big boost!”

“A shadow of a bonus, Mr. Rosenthal.”

They said nothing, each wearing a mask of disinterest like a professional poker player. But even without Persuasion, I could see it. Despite the fact that they knew it all already, each one of them howled in the depths of his soul: Come on, then, surprise us! — After all, they were talking to the most successful Threat ever.

I had a surprise for them, but I started elsewhere:

“I’ll use a certain artifact as an example. I couldn’t remember what we had specifically for jewelers, so I asked the clan for info. That’s what they’re using as an excuse to disqualify me. Anyway, it’s a divine artifact, and it adds two ranks to Jewelcrafting. What do you think of that, Mr. Rosenthal?”

Joseph narrowed his eyes, trying not to give the game away, but I could tell by his quickened breath and the nervous twitch in his Adam’s apple: he was hooked.

“What are the requirements?” he asked hoarsely.

“Two thousand perception.”

“Oh, I see,” Meister said, relaxing and waving a hand. “One of those artifacts with impossible requirements. Like the Chef’s Frying Pan of the First Titans — plus two ranks to Cooking, but only if you have the three thousand strength to use it. Don’t get it, Alex? Of course, nuances like this escape you.”

Coughing, Bloomer spoke up:

“As their crafting rank goes up, craftspeople begin to get huge bonuses from their specialist stat. For Meister the jeweler, that’s intellect. For fishing, it’s agility. For mining — strength. That’s why crafters end up with super imbalanced stats; everything gets put into the one stat.”

“What about equipment?” I asked. “You can raise the stat you need with items.”

“Not by two or three thousand points!” Meister snorted derisively. “You can get high bonuses to physical characteristics from plate armor, for example. Do you think my character can wear plate?”

“Don’t bother guessing,” Bloomer said. “The answer is no.”

“Which is exactly why we, the non-combat classes and crafters, have united together,” Roman sighed. “I don’t think I’m revealing a big secret by telling you that none of us have a large amount of health or strength. Our attacks are weak. We can’t achieve anything in the Cursed Chasm without working together, and even then all we can get is mobs. We can’t take on the bosses.”

“So all of you would appreciate three thousand points to a stat, right?”

The men smiled, spread their hands. I decided to raise the stakes, leaned forward and said:

“What if I ask for the support of your entire raid? Doesn’t matter if any of you win or not. I don’t care who exactly wins — my gratitude will extend to everyone.”

Roman’s eyes lit up and he averted his eyes.

“Don’t forget that you’re about to be disqualified,” Joseph said, now a picture of self-possession again.

“Of course. I’m taking that into account. My offer doesn’t depend on whether I get kicked out of the Games today or not. My obligations to you will remain in force, and after the Games, when you’re back in big Dis, I’ll fulfill my promises.”

“And if you aren’t kicked out?” Roman asked, frowning with curiosity.

“Then I’ll join your raid and be your main damage dealer! And if all goes to plan, we’ll break through to the final boss, whose name, by the way, is Abaddon, and we’ll try to become champions together!”

“All of us? Champions? Is that possible?” Bloomer asked skeptically.

“Theoretically it is,” Roman answered. “It’s just that nobody has ever killed the boss of floor 666. But if we can take him out with a raid… Well, then all the raid members will be champions!”

“Damn tempting, for sure…” Meister interjected. “But Alex hasn’t even told us what he promises yet.”

“The grand prize is three thousand to a priority stat, right? I’ll offer you five times that as a minimum. At least fifteen thousand points, distributed equally between all your stats.”

Actually, our newly built third temple meant that the limit on followers of the Sleepers would rise to several million, but it would be dumb to throw around numbers like that. They wouldn’t believe me, they’d laugh and tell this kid with an overactive imagination to get lost. I’d decided to tell them what I could realistically give them with just two consecrated temples.

“That’s crazy. I don’t believe it,” Bloomer whispered, pursing his lips. “How? Some superstrong Threat ability?”

“It has to be true,” Roman said, and the fire in his eyes burned brighter with every word. “Otherwise there’s no way he could promise mountains of gold to the whole raid. He would have stuck to just the leaders. That’s what I would have done.”

“How about an insurance policy?” the old jeweler said, leaning forward.