As for Concentrated Life Essence… A terrible suspicion hit me, and Behemoth lowered his inhuman eyes for an instant, nodded.
“On its own, Life Essence is just a unique medicine capable of curing even the terminally ill. It will make a blind man see, a cripple grow new legs… The high demons strengthened Life Essence with the souls of the defeated. By drinking it, the winner of the Demonic Games became a personal guard of either Diablo, Belial or Azmodan, depending on who exactly oversaw the games that year. Since the time when the demons were banished to the Inferno, the souls of the defeated have not been taken, but are sealed with a Hell’s Curse. From that moment, some of their life force belongs to the champion. Forever.”
Leaving me deep in thought, Behemoth disappeared. Once again catching myself thinking of how little I knew about Disgardium, I opened the game encyclopedia and studied the section dedicated to the Demonic Games. I learned that one can enter them only with outstanding achievements earned in the time since the last games ended. Such successes might include achieving prize-winning places in world-class tournaments like the Arena, the highest league of the Battlefields, races on terrestrial and flying mounts and mechanical transport. Others who could take part included the owners of Battle Pet Skirmish champions, winners of global crafting tournaments, prize winners of the Battle of Mages and other class contests like the Bards’ and Musicians’ Song Contest and the contests for seducers, warriors, healers…
Another way to gain access to the games, which were held each year in May, was to pass through the qualifying rounds, but it was already too late for that. There was nothing in the encyclopedia about the Junior Arena, but my victory there was the only achievement I had that matched the criteria.
At least I had a new goal now: to destroy the Nucleus. Everything else, as Uncle Nick used to say, was just detail. I’d figure it out when I got to it.
Before I’d even walked out of the temple, my message lit up the clan chat: I need all the info we have on the Demonic Games! How do I enter them?
Chapter 5. Ready to Start Right Away!
THE DEMONIC GAMES have been held since time immemorial. According to Behemoth’s tales, the Higher Demons, before they were banished to the Inferno, used the Games to recruit new members of their personal guard. In all that time, the Games had been canceled only once — in the first year of Disgardium’s launch, when, all across Latteria, the invasion of the undying began. Players.
After the demons were banished, the Games were taken over by an elvish tribe that had common roots with the demons at the dawn of time. The name was kept, but the point of it changed fundamentally: naturally, the victor no longer joined Belial’s personal guard. Instead, he was declared a demon fighter, one of those who will stand up in Disgardium’s defense on Judgment Day. The day when the Sleeping Gods will awaken and our world will be opened to the demons.
“Not just to them, actually,” Flaygray added as he told me about this. “All the Barriers between the planes will disappear, and the gods will be able to do whatever they want, unconstrained by the First Law of Equilibrium. Astral beasts will flood into the physical world, the boundary of the Nether will tear…”
“Enough filling his head with tales!” Nega interrupted him. “In fact, on Judgment Day all sentients living and dead will stand before the Celestial Arbitration and answer for their actions. Even the New Gods, and then the Fallen Three — the highest gods — will remind Nergal, Marduk and their minions who has the greater right to this world.”
The satyr smirked, but didn’t argue. He and Nega were participating in the clan council, while Anf and Ripta seemed wholly unconcerned by clan business — they were present, but didn’t contribute. The conversation wasn’t about battle, after all. Although maybe the trouble was elsewhere — in the difficulty of translation. Before he got stuck in the Treasury of the First Mage, Anf was the general of an army of the now dead race of colicods, destroyed by the Swarm. Ripta would have had something to say about the Demonic Games too, but both guards reported everything they knew to Flaygray and then, after sitting a while longer, left for the street, to join Iggy and the Montosaurus.
Apart from me and the two guards, the table, or rather, several tables put together, hosted Manny, Gyula, Patrick, Irita, Crawler, Infect and Bomber. Our clan had grown, as had its officer contingent. I wouldn’t be surprised if the kobolds, troggs and cultists of Morena joined us soon — NPCs were sometimes invited into an in-game clan, but it was rare due to the finality of their death.
“How exactly do the Demonic Games work and can I enter them?” I asked once I’d figured out the history and mythology of the contest.
“If you checked your mail a little more often, you’d know,” Crawler grumbled.
He was right; I hadn’t checked my mail in a while. Usually you need to have someone in your friends list to write to them, but there was a downside to
