The Last Warrior of Unigaea: A LitRPG Trilogy

by Harmon Cooper

  “She did die, but she gave me this before she died, when I first met her.” I smile sheepishly. “It was in my pocket all along. Anyway, do you have enough armor and weapons to supply the militia? That’s what I’ve called you here to ask.”

  One of his attendants, an older man with bushy eyebrows and a long goatee, comes forward to speak and Governor Talonas cuts him off with a snap of his fingers. “I’ve made my decision. I will provide you with transportation to the mountain for both of you and the weapons you need.”

  “How will I carry the armor and weapons?” I ask. “I mean, Wolf can drag some things, but he won’t be able to outfit an entire militia.”

  It’s his turn to smile. “Let me worry about that. All I ask is that when you arrive, you light a green fire on the highest visible point. Do you know how to light a green fire?”

  “Cherry sable leaves and yellow bonnet. I have the bonnet.”

  “Then I will be sure that my personal herbalist provides you with the cherry sable leaves.”

  As soon as he says this, the attendant who twice ascended the stairs hurries out of the room.

  “Thank you, Governor.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” A grin slowly moves across his chiseled face. “Your boat is ready; I have it moored in the waters near the mansion. If you are ready to leave now, then by all means, please feel free to do so. That is, unless you were looking for a bath and a massage this morning.”

  I clear my throat. “No, I’m ready.”

  (^_^)

  The Seluecid Sea smells of a mixture of salt and brine, and the seagulls above the dock fill the empty space with their antics and caws. Wolf does his usual “the water is going to drown me” act as soon we near the ship. He instinctively tucks his tail between his legs and yips at any of the waves that look a bit too large for the vessel to handle.

  “Don’t mind him,” I tell the captain, a portly fellow with a bald spot shaped like a slice of watermelon. He gives me the hairy eye as I walk across the plank and says nothing as he returns to the quarterdeck, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

  I stop, turn back to Wolf, and whistle for him to come aboard. When he doesn’t, I rewalk the plank, place my hand on his head, and give him a good scratch behind the ear in his favorite spot.

  “Last boat ride for the foreseeable future,” I tell him. Sure, it’s a lie, but try to imagine a world – real or digital – without lies. Lies are as much a currency as lira.

  “Up you go.” I grab him by the scruff and give him a soft tug. He pulls back. I get behind him and push, he growls and I tell him to knock it off, and eventually he follows me onto the large ship where he camps out in the middle, in a spot directly beneath the main mast.

  A messenger boy runs at full speed along the dock with a pack on his back. He skips up the plank and bows slightly as he presents the contents wrapped in palm paper.

  “From Governor Talonas,” he says with a slight bow. He’s gone before I can get the tweed off the package. Cherry sable leaves. There’s another package wrapped within this one. I open it to find close to a pound of blue-melon-flavored jerky.

  Sweet and tangy, my taste buds note as I eat a piece. I offer some to Wolf but he refuses to look up at me.

  The captain remains on the quarterdeck and says nothing to me as the ship prepares to sail. I don’t know why the crew is so silent, but they aren’t wearing official Stater military gear, which means they may be contractors of a sort.

  Pirates?

  The crew seems to be half peg-legged Player Characters and half swashbuckling NPCs. The captain is also an NPC, and when I focus on him his handle flashes over his head.

  [Captain Decatur, Level 13]

  The sky behind him is crimson, which gives a foreboding tint to the water. I walk to the side of the ship and watch as it is led away from the dock. Not two hundred feet away, men in small boats tend the seafruits, collecting the ones that have ripened. With the backdrop of crimson the image is otherworldly, a hallucinatory dream.

  A dream.

  Unigaea is an online world that exists in a neuronally constructed dreamscape. The space is shared amongst all the people who log into the world. It is administered by the Proxima Company, the greatest entertainment company the world has ever seen.

  Hard to think of it like that as I see a pair of dolphins jump out of the water and swim alongside the ship for a moment. The men of the ship do their duty with precision, as if the vessel has been taken over by Captain Cook and his crew are as seasoned as one can be without being too spicy.

  Even my inner monologue is starting to get snarky.

  Now I want to gain a level or kill five more Player Characters to see what will happen when I put another point in MIND. I can only imagine the snarkiness that may follow.

  Wolf yelps. I turn to see a pirate scoot by, dragging a rope behind him – a rope that just so happened to touch the big dog’s leg.

  “Easy!” I call over to him. The pirate starts to chuckle, catches himself, and continues on.

  (^_^)

  The ride takes all of three hours. The ship is fast, and I believe it could be faster if not for the heavy cargo below deck. With no one to talk to, and the fact that no one aboard has anything but suspicious glances and hairy eyes for me when I approach, I explore the ship for the first hour. The second hour I spend lying and staring up at the crimson sky, and for the third I watch the water and think about my lives.

  Lives.

  There’s the one in the dive vat in Chicago, in Proxima housing in Cicero, that hasn’t been “awake” for nearly a year now, and the one in Unigaea, which changes to a new life whenever I die.

  Buddhists would love Unigaea if it weren’t for the fact that your karma doesn’t carry over and you can choose how you’d like to be reborn; however, there is something cyclical about it all. They’d definitely like that part.

  Chapter Twenty-two: Sam Raid

  “Eat,” I tell Wolf once we’re on the shore. There’s no way to tell exactly, but I’d guess we’re about a mile away from where the two fishermen were camped out yesterday morning. I hand him some of the blue-melon jerky and he swallows it without chewing.

  With the flick of my finger, the map of Unigaea spreads out across my pane of vision. The militia’s location is now marked by a blinking red icon, and by my best calculations, it’s less than an hour’s ride from our current position.

  I give Wolf one more piece of jerky and hop on.

  He takes off at full speed, ready to be as far away from the water as ever. Thoughts fly past me along the way and I ignore them. It’s a calm, cool day, and if it weren’t for the foreboding blood-colored sky overhead, I’d say it’s beautiful.

  We jet past a hut to the west of the sand dunes. A trail of smoke wafts out of the chimney and I catch a woman moving inside, her head covered by a shamanic mask.

  Superstitions, I think as we continue past.

  NPC religions weren’t invented by the Proxima developers that created Unigaea, nor were they invented through the history populating software called WeWrite History, famous for writing the history for another online fantasy world known as Tritania. Their religions and folk traditions emerged on their own.

  This is something that researchers continue to study, and right now, I’m certain there are anthropological papers being written about people’s religious habits in Unigaea.

  My thought pattern shatters as I notice a red outline creeping towards me.

  A bandit?

  For some odd reason, bandits love this area, and as one approaches me I think about stopping to fight, simply for the loot if nothing else. I decide against it and shout for Wolf to run faster. He kicks it into fifth gear and we’re out of the area before the bandit can pounce.

  I’m not one to run from a fight, but I’d also like to get this show on the road. The bandit cries out, and I briefly turn to see him shaking a scimitar at me.

  [Bandit, Level 2]

  Damn, they’re getting desper
ate around here.

  Thirty minutes in and the brush changes to crumbled rock. Scraggly roots poke out of the rocks, and Wolf has to do double duty to avoid cutting his paws. Still, we near the Tangka Militia in record time and are greeted by two guards that look like farmers in straw hats.

  “Hey!” One of them waves at me while the other keeps his crossbow up. They can see I’m a Player Killer, but they also see the badass Stater armor I’m wearing and unlike the pirates, who have seen plenty of people wearing false robes, these farmer soldiers actually buy it.

  Wolf slows his speed and stops in front of the one who called out to me, an NPC.

  He and his compadre might as well be outfitted in pots and pans. The armor covering his chest looks as if it were molded from aluminum foil and the nosepiece on his spangenhelm is bent in the wrong direction, practically giving him a beak.

  “I’m here to see Sam Raid,” I tell him.

  “About?” He grins and shows me his three remaining teeth.

  “I’ve come from Stater.”

  “Clearly.”

  Wolf growls as more men gather behind him, each outfitted in poorly constructed armor. The largest of the bunch, a ponytailed man missing an ear, steps forward. He’s the first man I’ve met outside the Rune Lands that matches Wolf in size.

  “Sam?” I ask.

  He shakes his head and nods for me to follow him.

  “Stay here,” I tell Wolf as soon as I’m off. He glances to the men that have surrounded us, bares his teeth, and covers them quickly with his lips. A warning. “Don’t eat them,” I say, loud enough for everyone gathered to hear.

  I follow the large man through the crowd and past the cook station.

  A dwarf with muscled forearms arms stirs a large cauldron of bubbling liquid. Behind him, a youth no older than ten quickly chops herbs, sliding the chopped portions into a bucket, which a woman in typical maiden clothing takes to the dwarf. The terrible smell keeps me breathing through my mouth long after we’ve passed the cook station.

  The militia has taken to caves designated by flags. A few sit outside the caves on overturned crates, playing games and chatting. Others lean against the wall, talking in low voices, all watching me as I follow the jolly Tangka giant.

  We circle around the rock wall, walk down a slope peppered with sharp rocks, and arrive in front of a teenage girl standing on a large boulder.

  “Sam Raid?” I ask after the lanky girl hops down.

  She’s got the Joan of Arc thing down to a T– short, blond hair several shades lighter than her eyebrows, oversized armor, piercing blue eyes – but the way she walks is that of a seasoned warrior.

  The icon flashes over her head, telling me she’s a Player Character.

  [Sam Raid, Level 21]

  “It’s about time the people of Stater show up,” she says, her voice confident and booming. “Although, it is curious that they’ve sent a single Player Killer.” Her eyes narrow on me. “There is only one of you, correct?”

  “I have a dog too,” I tell her.

  “A dog?”

  “Technically a Tagvornin wolf, whose name is Wolf because I’m not very creative, but you get the picture. He’s down there.” I point my thumb over my shoulder. “I told him to behave himself, don’t worry.”

  She curls her lips at me. “You’ve brought a Tagvornin Wolf into the camp?” Sam Raid unsheathes a pathetically small rapier and points it at me.

  “Is this some sort of joke?” I ask, not even going for my buster sword.

  “Do I look like a comedian?” She keeps her small rapier trained on me.

  “Are you seriously challenging me to a duel?”

  A few of the militiamen standing around us place their hands on the hilts of their swords.

  “No,” she tells them without taking her piercing blue eyes off me. “The Player Killer is mine.”

  (^_^)

  “I’m going to be completely honest with you here,” I tell her as I raise my hand to my shoulder. “This will not end well for you. For any of you,” I say, raising my voice.

  I unsheathe my St. Lucia Buster Sword and nearly stumble forward at its weight.

  Damn!

  She laughs and her men join her. “How ironic! You can barely use your weapon yet you threaten me? I will personally see to it that your ridiculously sized weapon is melted down and crafted into no less than three more practical pieces. And your armor? I will bring that to Governor Talonas myself, as you have clearly stolen it.”

  “Governor Talonas sent me,” I say, my voice rising in agitation.

  “Like hell he did.”

  I keep my big ass sword at the ready, this time adjusting for its weight with my stance. “Before you think about making the biggest mistake of your young life, at least let me follow the governor’s orders and give you the weapon and armor you need.”

  The growing crowd around us murmurs at the mention of supplies.

  Sam Raid doesn’t lower her rapier, but her face does soften a little. “You said you came with a Tagvornin wolf. Was the beast dragging the supplies?”

  “No, milady,” the biggest militiaman pipes up. “Not to my knowledge.”

  She raises an eyebrow at me.

  A bead of sweat appears on my forehead and slowly makes its way down my cheek. Damn, this sword is heavy!

  “He instructed me to light a green fire,” I grit. “I’m guessing he has a group coming that will find the green fire and bring the stuff up to your little shanty town here. I really don’t know. That’s just what he told me. I’ve just come from Stater, actually, which is why I’m in brand new armor. Looks good, right?”

  Damn that snarkiness!

  Skepticism spreads across Sam Raid’s face. Finally, she says, “Will you consent to handing over your weapons until the supplies arrive?”

  I weigh this idea for a moment. The worst that could happen is that governor doesn’t come through and I’m forced to sneak out of the camp at night. I still have Wolf, and we’re not too far from Mohar, where I could sell parts of my armor to afford a new blade.

  “Fine. What’s to lose?”

  I lower my sword and stab it into the ground. I’ve always wanted to do that!

  “That’s all you have?”

  I remove the crossbow pistol from my inventory and place it next to it.

  “Are you sure?” she asks.

  “Well, I have a boning knife and some cooking utensils.”

  “That’s fine. Light your green fire.” Sam Raid points at a high cliff. “There should be fine.”

  Chapter Twenty-three: Grilled and Revealed

  EBAYmazon doesn’t operate in Unigaea, which means that Governor Talonas is going to have to get creative in delivering the armor and weapons needed to outfit the Tangka militiamen.

  Once I’m up on the cliff, I glance down to see Sam Raid watching me intently. A few of her men still stand around her, while others have already returned to their conversations, naps, or posts. My god does this militia need some work; hopefully outfitting them with choice armor will mask the fact that they’re shit.

  I collect some rocks and make a quick circle in the dirt. I pull up my herb list and feel the familiar shame at its inadequate size:

  Cherry sable leaves (6)

  Karuna seaweed (9)

  Mandrake flower (6)

  Yellow bonnet (1)

  I really, desperately need to find a mentor to teach me more about the herbs of Unigaea. There’s so much I’m missing out on and it’s all around me, if only I knew how to identify and use it.

  I place the yellow bonnet in the center of the rocks and put the cherry sable leaves on top. I use my fire-starting kit to get the flame going, which turns green after mere seconds of burning.

  The green flame makes a small mushroom cloud that is also green, which lifts in a vertical pillar into the air.

  I glance down at Sam Raid, who is in the process of instructing her men to guard the entry points. Her poorly outfitted troops race around, co
lliding with each other as they get to their posts.

  The fire slows to a steady burn, and to increase its size, I start adding twigs and leaves that the wind has blown up to the cliff. I get so focused on collecting twigs and adding them to the fire that I don’t see Sam Raid climb the ladder with a bundle of wood tied to her back.

  Only when she’s standing directly behind me do I realize she’s there.

  “You’re fast,” I tell her as she drops the wood on the fire. With a whoosh, the flames again lick the air. “And yeah, I should have been prepared with more wood. At least it’ll stay green.”

  Sam watches the flames for a moment, glances up at the crimson sky, and turns to me. “What’s your real name?” she asks me point blank.

  “Oric Rune,” I tell her, distracted.

  “Not here, up there.”

  It’s only then that I realize how stern the look is on her face. I try a shit-eating grin on her to see if it chills her any. It doesn’t. “I haven’t been up there in a long while,” I finally say, clearing my throat.

  “How long?”

  “Close to a year but … ” I think back to the last time I saw the real world. “Yeah, a year.”

  “So who were you then, before you became who you are now?”

  I hesitate. The green flames crackle and pop as Sam takes a seat on a large rock.

  “Eric,” I finally tell her. “That’s my real name.”

  “Eric what?”

  “Eric Renfro.”

  “Oric Rune,” she muses. “Have all your handles been similar to your real name?”

  “I’ve more or less stuck with Oric Rune through my various incarnations. I tried Runestar once, but I thought it sounded too douche-y.” I don’t know why I’m telling her any of this, but suddenly it feels right, normal even. Hell, it’s a relief to admit who I once was, with an emphasis on was.

  “And you?” I ask her. “Surely you aren’t Sam Raid up there. It sounds like a name for someone who deals in pest control.”

  Zing! That settles it. I have got to put more points in MIND.