Path of Spirit (Disgardium Book #6): LitRPG Series by Dan Sugralinov (i read books TXT) 📕

turned out far more agile than me. But he had no weapon. I took my time and continued to drive him toward a small outcropping over the chasm, letting my Fatigue drop back down after each strike.

The space got too tight for maneuvering and I finally hit him, stabbing him in the waist. The elf’s life fell by five points and I got a skill:

Learned Spears!

 

+10% damage with spears per skill level.

 

YourMajesty was trying to convince me to stop. My spear kept him at a distance and he was beginning to tire. The figures of various divinities lit up on the skyline multiple times — convicts died almost every second. I heard a roar, thunder, trampling behind me, but feared to turn around and let the elf go. He seemed to be remembering where he’d heard my name before.

“Wait, you’re Scyth… the Scyth?” The looter’s eyes widened. “How’s that possible?”

Realizing who I was, the elf, already stressed and constantly looking for a place to dodge, let his his guard down. Without hesitation, I delivered the final blow.

Spears +1. Total: 2.

YourMajesty died, losing his character forever. Before the shards of his body had fully dissipated, I was already absorbing the black cube.

+2 to level. Current level: 3.

 

Lesser Gift of Bastet: +3 agility.

 

The weight of divine attention descended upon me once more. On the right, a figure in the sky of a busty naked woman with the head of a cat came closer and lit up. Nice to meet you, Bastet, and thanks for the gift! I felt the extra agility right away — although I moved no faster, my body was more mobile.

The huge arena with the stone paths flowing into it looked like a fair where everyone had been given as much strong dwarven ale as they could drink. We were all at the center of the New, or True, Gods’ attention. They celebrated deaths and generously rewarded killers.

Fifty paces away, a few dozen prisoners were locked in combat. Once in a while, the bodies of the dead exploded into glass shards within the crowd, and an even fiercer skirmish burst out over the loot.

Stopping my stream of thoughts, I thought of my strategy. It was easy to get stabbed in the back in a crowd of hundreds. Better to fight one on one, pulling opponents to me. Here on my narrow strip of rock, defending myself would be easier.

Slowly, to avoid Fatigue, I moved forwards, step by step, carefully watching my surroundings and keeping an eye on the meter:

Total surviving convicts: 373 of 981.

 

By minute ten of the Ordeal, each survivor had an average of almost two kills. The main tussle was here, and it was hard to tell who was fighting with who. It was every man for himself.

At the center of the crowd, a huge two-headed ogre with a mighty stone club span in place, dishing out sweeping strikes with such power that even I heard the air whistle. The ogre was protecting someone, but I couldn’t make out who. My view was blocked, and then I found myself in battle once more, and against three at once.

A troll with dreadlocks cut me across the shoulder with his sword and a gnoll sank his teeth into my left arm. I dodged the next strike of the sword and drove my spear into the gnoll’s meaty neck. I didn’t have time to finish him off; I had to dodge an attack from a bearded black dwarf armed with a curved dagger.

The swordsman put down the gnoll. He didn’t have time to pick up the loot before falling victim to the dwarf, his dagger stabbing like a sewing machine through the troll’s back and shoulders, then finally disappearing into his ear. The troll collapsed in a bleeding heap and the black dwarf turned to me…

Roaring, I jumped, stretched out my arms, absorbed the black cube in flight and rolled to the side.

+1 to level. Current level: 4.

 

Medium Gift of Tlaloc: +1 vitality, +3 damage (Spark of Tlalok).

 

Total surviving convicts: 255 of 981.

 

At the edge of my vision, one of the divine figures glowed. I caught the scent of rain, overpowering even the stench of stale whiskey and sweat from the filthy dwarf.

“You won’t get away!” he growled. “In the name of…”

His beard was suddenly above me, the dagger flashing. With no time to dodge, I stabbed my spear up through the dwarf’s chin.

Spears +1. Total: 3.

The dwarf was wounded, so the spear strike didn’t just land, it was a critical hit. A snake of electricity ran along the spear haft with a crackle and the dwarf’s head exploded, showering me with brains and blood. An instant later, his entire body exploded into shards. The black dwarf from a tribe of outcasts who preferred Chaos to the eternal gods was gone from Dis forever.

I heard a guttural growl nearby. The troll with dreads had survived and was now trying to reach the black cube lying nearby. I beat him to it. Stabbing my spear into the troll’s hand, I absorbed the cube…

+2 to level. Current level: 6.

 

Medium Gift of Yama: +3 strength.

 

For a second, I caught the almost forgotten scent of a rotting tomb. Yama must have been a god somehow related to death. Licking the blood from my lips, I finished off the troll, raising my Spears skill by another level. I absorbed the next black cube into my palm and felt a cold fresh breeze on my face.

+1 to level. Current level: 7.

 

Medium Gift of Fujin: +3 speed.

 

Just in time! Two little hobbits, arms outstretched, were crawling on their bellies toward the loot I’d just picked up. I jumped back, stood on a foot, turned around. A snakelike naga hissed