The Demonic Games (Disgardium Book #7): LitRPG Series Dan Sugralinov (top 100 books to read .txt) 📖

admit, even I regretted signing that contract with you. But, as honest people, we will fulfill our obligations to you — we’ll do everything in our power to get you the essence. With that, allow us to part ways. I wouldn’t like to appear before the reporters in your company.”

The jeweler, poet and curser sped their pace, leaving me embarrassed. I got the message: they’d help, but not be my friends. That was beneath their status. I didn’t forget that Rosenthal had mentioned the separate gift for him in passing, and the hypocrisy made me smile. The Nether with them. I didn’t care if they helped or not, as long as they didn’t get in the way.

I was far more worried about what penalty I might get on my fifth game day, and whether I could handle the three gankers, but as soon as I crossed the threshold of the zone for journalists, streamers and bloggers, I forgot all that.

Surprisingly, nobody noticed me arrive. Octius was at the center of attention, surrounded by contestants, and answering questions from the media.

“…escaped my attention,” the master of the Games said gravely, his plate armor gone and replaced by an ordinary suit. “An hour before the game session ended, Mr. Jackson called me to a meeting of the ethics committee. Immediately after that, I was prepared to go out on stage, so I didn’t take part in the editing of the highlight reel.”

“Mr. Octius, do you believe this was an ordinary oversight of the directors, or was it a deliberate attempt to hide Scyth’s successes?” asked Lia Solo, a streamer girl on roller skates who I’d already met. “Why did Snowstorm go to so much effort to convince Alex to stay in the Games on the first day, but then change its position?”

“Of course it was an oversight of the directors!” Octius asked, annoyed. “Believe me, nobody in their right mind would deliberately cut such an event as a battle with the final boss or a skirmish with gankers! We will find whoever was responsible and punish them!”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Lia Solo rolled her eyes. “Next you’ll say you ‘accidentally’ made that misleading cut of Alex’s request to his assistant! Everyone knows you wanted to set the audience against the Threat!”

“Make no mistake, my dear,” Guy Barron said in reassuring tones, approaching the girl. “We will get to the bottom of this! In the meantime, think about it — if I already knew everything that Alex Sheppard told me onstage, and I wanted to get rid of him at any cost, then why would I let the contestants choose? And let him speak?” he turned his head, found me with his eyes. His face brightened. “Ah, the culprit himself! Talk to him while I get ready for the press conference! Then I will answer all your questions!”

Octius pushed his way out of the crowd and disappeared into a service corridor, and the crowd of media representatives rushed toward me, shouting questions as they came. Tough without Kerry, I thought. My former helper would have lined them all up, put me in one of the special interview rooms, pressed a can of soda into my hand and whispered tips in my ear, telling me what to say or whether to open my mouth at all.

“What are you feeling right now, Alex?” In the shower of questions, I made out Lia Solo’s familiar voice.

“Nothing at all,” I admitted. “But I’m really grateful to everyone who voted against my disqualification, and to my viewers for the support. I promise to keep my play exciting!”

“How did you manage to survive in battle against the final boss?” Peter Davis asked as he elbowed his way forward, a very short man with a Disgardium Daily holobadge.

“Using the same ability that saved me when the mages attacked on day two, remember?”

“That was awesome!” Davis smiled. “Can you explain exactly how that ability works?”

“Sorry, no. You’re from Disgardium Daily, right?”

“Yes, sir,” David nodded.

“How’s Ian Mitchell doing?”

“Uhm… Mr. Mitchell is still in the hospital, sir. But he’s already conscious, the prognosis is good…”

“Give him my best regards, Mr. Davis. I hope he gets well and goes on writing good material for us.”

Surprise flashed in Peter Davis’s eyes:

“I’ll be sure to pass that on. In your speech on the stage, you spoke of a certain conflict with Snowstorm. This statement raised a range of questions at our publication. Didn’t it seem strange to you that the viewers voted you the worst player three days in a row?”

“It’s not strange!” Axel Donovan, another Disgardium Daily journalist, shouted from the back. “It’s a logical consequence of Scyth’s cowardly playstyle! Mr. Sheppard, how do you excuse your shameful gameplay?”

Stunned for a moment, I quickly took hold of myself:

“It’s the corporation playing a shameful game. Mr. Davis is right, the results of the viewers’ votes looked very strange to me! It’s obvious that Snowstorm wants to get rid of me, and with time, everyone will find out why.”

“How convenient…” Axel said, finally pushing Davis out of the way and forcing his way to the front. “A global giant, a leading corporation and a young schoolkid. Ooh, the fight of the century! More like you’re butthurt at Snowstorm for some reason and that’s why you make these claims. As for them… I don’t believe they have any conflict with you at all. I won’t believe a word you say, Mr. Sheppard, until you reveal the reasons for this so-called conflict!”

“That’s up to you, Mr. Donovan,” I said, turning away and looking at the other journalists. “I’d like to address the viewers…”

Everyone fell silent and a swarm of microphone drones moved to hover by my mouth.

“To everyone who voted for me, who supported me online… Please, speak out! I don’t believe that the majority of you are against me. It’s one thing