The Last Warrior of Unigaea: A LitRPG Trilogy

by Harmon Cooper

  “You’re right, but it’s a variant.”

  “I’ll give you that.”

  I can equip armor in two ways in Unigaea. The first is to simply pull up my dashboard, then slide my current armor away and my new armor over my body. The second is to grab the armor from my list, place it on the ground, and get to changing the old-fashioned way. Because I don’t want to be an asshole and waste time, I choose the first way.

  “There,” I say as I finish equipping the armor. “A Tagvornin soldier at your service.”

  Sam steps up to me, her head at the same height as my chest. “It doesn’t look half bad,” she finally says.

  “Thanks?”

  “What were you expecting me to say?”

  “Something about being your hero would be nice. That or your knight in shining armor.”

  She smirks, and once again I can’t tell if having more attribute points in MIND is helping me or not. In my other incarnations, boosting MIND never made me cheeky.

  I move my arms a bit to get used to the weight of the armor.

  The Tagvornin armor is a bit clunkier than my stuff from Stater. It’s not too bad though, and as we move along the dirt road that leads towards the town, I get my stride under wraps and turn up the douchebaggery to better fit the part.

  “Why are you walking like that?” she asks.

  “Like what?”

  Sam mimics my strut and I swear I hear Wolf snort in laughter. I turn to look at him and he immediately sniffs at the ground, as if he hasn’t been watching us the whole time.

  “I’m acting like a tough Tag,” I tell her.

  “You’re walking like you have a Charley Horse – that or a genetically modified cucumber up your ass.”

  I straighten my shoulders. “Fine, have it your way. But if our cover is blown, it’s on you.”

  “I’m fine with that.”

  “How did you become leader of the militia anyway?” I ask after we pass a Tagvornin guard. He doesn’t look twice at me; the armor and Wolf are totally working, as I predicted they would.

  “There was a cake-baking contest.”

  “Really?”

  “No. I challenged their most recent leader and beat him.”

  “Who was their most recent leader?” I ask, imagining an itty-bitty tin-can soldier with armor crafted from repurposed pots and pans.

  “Ralph, the big guy. Before that, it was Jay, and before that, Jeff of Hays.”

  I recall the towering Ralph and his Hulk Smash fists. “You beat … him?”

  “Like I told you earlier: big things, small packages.”

  We continue down a lane shouldered by quaint homes with nice little front lawns.

  Scratch that.

  The homes are shells of their former selves and the parts of their lawns that haven’t been scorched are filled with charred bodies. Their livestock have been slaughtered, their daughters taken by the Tagvornins, and their able-bodied men forced to dig preemptive graves for anyone that opposes the new leadership.

  In fact, that seems to be a theme here in Tangka since the Tagvornins arrived – if flammable, burn, and if not flammable, burn anyway. If edible, eat. If not edible, eat anyway. If fuckable, fuck. If not fuckable ...

  The town now has more in common with overcooked Texas barbeque than it does your atypical fantasy setting. What hasn’t been razed has been severely gutted, and what hasn’t been gutted is either a pub – because everyone needs a place to drown themselves in booze – or a governmental building the ruthless Tagvornin authorities deemed significant.

  “Center of the town,” I remind Sam as the rain picks up.

  “I know,” she hisses. “I’m from here, remember? Need I remind you this was my plan?”

  “Partially. But for the record, I thought of the dress-up part.”

  She shakes her head. “I’ll be sure to nominate you for an Unigaea Oscar once we’ve driven the Tags out.”

  “I expect nothing less.”

  We take a right at an oak tree to avoid a large group of soldiers coming our way. Wolf stops to smell the burnt grass and mark his territory. After he’s done, we turn left past the town blacksmith and continue along this path until we make it to the town’s center, which is very different from the other city centers in Unigaea.

  Gone are the statues and the grand lanes perfect for parades and events, replaced by an open stretch of land with pebble walkways crisscrossing through its center.

  “Is this an old battlefield?” I ask as I take in my surroundings. I missed it the last time I was in Tangka. The space is completely at odds with the narrow lanes and hastily put together buildings that surround it.

  Lightning cracks in the sky and Wolf jumps. “Easy,” I say, my hand immediately patting his head.

  Sam lifts a finger and laser-green text appears before her. “What?” she asks. “You don’t use this feature?” The text scrolls and she nods as she reads it.

  I wipe some of the rain water out of my face. “Not as often as I should. I feel like it, um, takes away from the immersion.”

  “Every time you pull something out of your inventory list, check your avatar on your dashboard, check the weather, equip something, or see another player’s status indicator … ”

  “I know, I know. They take all away from the full immersion.”

  “Precisely. And to answer your question, the center is like this because they used to hold the Griffin Festival here, years ago, and they needed a big place for the festivities. Now let’s get started.” She pulls her rapier and aims it at my chest. “Attack me.”

  (^_^)

  I unsheathe my buster sword and charge at her. “I’ll kill you dead!”

  Sam easily zips out of the way and I skid to a halt, nearly busting my ass on the wet stones. Wolf has backed away for now, his shoulders hunched up as he moves back and forth.

  “Goddamn you!” I shout and this time, I stupidly charge with the ironing board of a sword held over my head.

  The blade comes crashing down onto one of the pebble paths, throwing me off balance and sending me stumbling sideways.

  Damn the weight of this weapon!

  Sam comes in with her rapier just as a few Tagvornin soldiers approach us.

  “You’re dead!” I scream at the top of my lungs. I swipe my sword at her and she again slips away.

  “You’re slow!” She places her hands on her hips a la Peter Pan and laughs at me. “Stupid, slow Tagvornin bitch!”

  “Hey!” one of the soldiers gathered around us says. “Kill her, mate!” He brandishes a morning star and growls, “Or I will.”

  “I’ll have you two dumbasses kill each other. How ‘bout that?” She dances the end of her rapier in the air like it’s a magic wand. “En garde, fuckers!”

  “You’re mine!” I come in for another swipe and Sam spins into the air. My vision pane flashes as her armored foot meets the side of my head.

  Damn, Sam, that actually hurt!

  I tumble sideways, regain equilibrium, and spit blood. A quick glance around and I see our Tagvornin audience has doubled.

  “Filthy, cheating whore!” the Tag with the morning star shouts. “I’ll fuckin’ kill her myself if you won’t, mate!”

  “I’ve got this,” I bark at him. Sam comes in for a swipe and I actually block it this time. She holds her own against my big sword and we press back and forth until …

  My vision pane flashes again and I fall.

  “Oh, shit!” one of the gathered Tags cries.

  I bring my arms to my stomach and cringe with fake pain. A nut shot here hurts just about as badly as a nut shot in the real world. Luckily, Sam kicked the inside of my thigh – but to the men gathered, it appeared as if she pegged me square in the gnads.

  “Fuck … you!” I stab my sword into the ground and start breathing out hard and heavy.

  “Cheat!” the morning star man shouts. “She fucking cheated!”

  He charges at Sam with his morning star over his head.

  Sudd
enly, her tiny rapier is no longer small and cute. It morphs instantly into an enormous golden lance, the bottom of which is roughly the same size as my buster sword. She buckles down and meets the man dead on, her weapon piercing through the chainmail under his arm.

  His face makes an O as he realizes he’s been skewered. Gravity brings him down and she’s already stepped aside, yanking her golden lance out and sending an arc of blood in the air.

  Here we go.

  I’m up on my feet before the men surrounding me can get their bearings.

  Instakill!

  Off comes the head of the first guy.

  “Where the hell did you pull that weapon from? It wasn’t in your list, was it?”

  “My subclass is illusionist, FYI.” Sam and I go back to back as more Tagvornins surround us.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  A Tag runs at me and our blades meet. He digs in and I let him.

  -96 HP!

  My gauntleted fist connects with his face, sending him stumbling away.

  “Well, you never told me your subclass!” Sam says after she skewers yet another Tagvornin. Damn if she doesn’t have the skewering act down to a science; she’s a natural when it comes to finding chinks in armor.

  “Herbalist!” I shout over the incipient bedlam. “I thought you would have figured that out when I made green fire!”

  She snorts, stabs her lance into the ground and uses it to propel her body into the air. She comes down onto a Tag’s shoulders, snaps his neck with her leg muscles, and flips him sideways.

  She’s back to her weapon in seconds flat.

  “Unnecessary!”

  “I make this look good! And did you really think I’d put one and one together after seeing you make green fire?” she shouts over her back. “Anyone with two hands and a sliver of brain matter can make green fire!”

  The same guy I punched earlier comes in for another blow. I parry and bring my sword back around, slicing him across the back.

  -217 HP! Critical hit!

  “I thought my fire was good,” I grumble as I go to meet another Tagvornin.

  Sam stabs her lance into the ground again. She pulls a curved blade from the air, performs an armless cartwheel, and connects her feet with the Tag to her right. He goes down and she brings the blade into the back of his neck.

  Critical hit!

  She’s back to her lance seconds later.

  “Did you see that?” she asks.

  “Nope!” I lie.

  A smile spreads across my face as the sea of red armor surrounding us parts. Tagvornins fly into the air as Wolf plows through them, making a beeline directly for us.

  The big Tagvornin beast tears through the last line of soldiers with an almost comical grin on his face.

  “Just in time!” I shout.

  Sam whistles and much to my surprise, Wolf obliges. Not moments later, Sam is riding him with her large golden lance aimed at a budding exit point. She charges through and Tagvornins either dive, get partially skewered, or get trampled by Wolf as the two cut through their ranks.

  I swing my surfboard of a sword at the Tagvornins like it’s a whiffle bat. I’ve gone berserker by this point, a whirling dervish as I swing the impossibly large sword back and forth in front of me.

  Meanwhile, Sam and Wolf charge at a group of incoming Tagvornins on wolves. We’re outnumbered six to one, and I get the feeling that this is just the first wave.

  My fears are met when another wave appears south of the city center. The rain picks up and I see a few soldiers slip as they run over to us. Mud sprays into the air as the mounted Tags chase Sam and Wolf.

  A Tagvornin with a morning star brings it down directly next to me. I pivot just in time to miss his next swing, only to be struck by a short sword from another Tag. My life bar flashes and I can already feel the bruise welling up under my armor.

  “Arrgh!” I burst forward and bring my big blade around just in time to meet a stocky Tag wielding an ax. I duck, then come up with my weapon aimed straight at his gut. His armor holds, sending me scurrying backwards.

  I nearly lose my footing, but I regain my composure and charge him again. He swipes his big ax, but by this point I’m already behind him. I bring the hilt of my sword against the back of his helmet.

  -97 HP!

  He eats mud; I’m too distracted by the next guy to finish the job.

  Pink and yellow sparks flash all around us.

  Out of nowhere, the fireworks expand in size until they are littering the battlefield. The rain and the sparks and the heavy stench of blood in the air create a tangible visual of the tragedy of combat in Unigaea.

  I snap out of my shock and awe to see Sam riding Wolf towards me, her hand in the air as the pink and yellow blips of light burst from her fingertips.

  Cries from all sides of the battlefield tell me that reinforcements have arrived – our reinforcements.

  (^_^)

  The ragtag militiamen are much stronger than I had originally anticipated. They fight for their hometown with pure passion, their fury released in the swinging of their swords and bolts from their crossbows. The Tags scatter as they try to get a sense of how many militiamen have joined the fight.

  Rain, blood, cries of anger and anguish – the battlefield is electric, unlike anything I’ve experienced thus far in Unigaea.

  The leader of the Tagvornins finally appears, a tank-sized man on a black Shire horse. He dives into the fray, his blade raised and aimed right at me. His beast goes one way and his body goes the other as Sam blindsides him with her golden lance. She hops off Wolf, dives into a melee between four Tags and two militiamen, and comes up with her curved sword.

  Clumps of mud erupt into the air as Wolf advances towards me, leaps, and crash-lands into a guy creeping up behind me. “Good boy!” I shout as he begins to maul the man to death.

  [Tagvornin Commander, Level 26]

  The NPC Tagvornin leader runs at me with two long swords. He spins, and I go to work blocking his first two attacks. I push him off balance with my buster sword and he takes a few steps back.

  “Anything you’d like to say before I kill you?” I ask in yet another moment of sudden snarkiness.

  His eyes go red as he charges again and tries to take me out with a sideways tornado attack. He’s agile, I’ll give him that. He tries for another jump-and-twist move but botches the jump part.

  He hits the ground and I kick his swords away. I use the tip of my buster sword to lift his chin. “Call your men off!” I scream, rain dripping from my wet hair onto my shoulders. He scoots back and I press forward. “Now!”

  The man bares his teeth as he goes for a small dagger at his side. My response is instant. The tip of my sword goes into the soft part under his chin, through his throat and the top of his spinal cord, and into the bottom of his neck.

  Instakill!

  I slam my boot into his chest and pull the blade out. Thunder rolls overhead, lightning boils across the blood-red night sky, and the Tagvornin leader dies.

  My vision pane flashes as a bolt flies past me, taking with it a small hunk of my neck. I hit the deck and roll as another series of bolts fly into the ground.

  “Get the fucking archers!” I shout to anyone who can hear me.

  Wolf speeds to the right, and out of the corner of my eye I watch him race towards a small group of archers that have gathered on the opposite side of the battlefield.

  The fact that he’s a Tagvornin wolf again plays to his advantage.

  The archers focus on the rest of the battle, oblivious to the fact that they’re all about to be torn to shreds.

  With a sickening blow, he knocks two out instantly, then wrenches his neck up and tears the arm off another. The fourth archer tries to turn and fire, and for his efforts he gets dragged to the ground and dies after having his throat ripped out.

  Wolf goes to the two he knocked out and snaps their necks, one at a time.

  “Up and at ‘em,” I say as I push myself to
my feet.

  Ralph, the big man, runs past me trailed by three Tangka militiamen. He charges towards an incoming group of Tagvornins and is tossed aside by a blast of unadulterated light that strips the rocks and grass from the earth.

  “Shit!” I sprint towards the incoming Tagvornins. The battle grinds to a halt as all the men look to see who’s casting magic.

  I glance left and catch Sam also racing towards the magic caster.

  Please don’t be, please don’t be, please don’t be …

  My worst fears are realized when I see an eye-patched woman with short, gray hair holding a sword made of solar energy.

  Chapter Twenty-six: Two Birds, One Sword

  “She’s … a Tagvornin?” I ask, as if somehow voicing the question will help me better comprehend the woman standing defiantly in front of a group of Tagvornin warriors on wolfback.

  “You know her?” Sam Raid asks, eyes wide. Slightly out of breath, the militia leader stands next to me, her huge golden lance at the ready.

  “Deathdale,” I say, almost as if in a trance.

  “She doesn’t look like a Tag.”

  “She’s a mercenary, a Player Killer, a Solar Mage.” I swallow hard as I come to accept the fight that lies ahead. “And she’s mine. You deal with the rest. I’ve fought alongside her before. I know what she’s capable of.”

  Sam’s shoulders come up and she dips back into an attack position.

  “I’m serious, Sam! She’s mine!”

  Lightning trickles across the sky, rain roars and thunder shakes the ground. I wipe the water away from my face, feeling the cold metal of the gauntlet on my arm.

  Deathdale’s sword swells with brightness as she puts one heeled foot in front of her and leans back on the other, getting into position.

  Wolf is suddenly at my side, to my right.

  “Stay back,” I tell him. He whines anxiously as he begins to move around in tiny circles. “If I die, stay with Sam. Get her out of here.”

  By this point, everyone, Tagvornin and Tanka militiaman alike, have made a pretty large circle around Deathdale and me. Even Sam is watching, not yet able to continue leading the battle.

  I approach Deathdale with my St. Lucia Buster Sword drawn.