The Red Plague: A LitRPG Trilogy (The Last Warrior of Unigaea Book 3)

by Harmon Cooper

  It takes Lothar’s ex and me a few minutes to reach the Taelian city gates, the tops of which are covered in frost. There is no wall walk; about the only thing that can get over the gate would be a griffin or a dragon, and the likelihood of someone attacking the city is close to nil.

  While the Taelian giants may not get along with Metica – and with new leadership in the female warrior city, who knows how this will change – Taelian giants haven’t gone to war for eons. Not many are stupid enough to attack a group of people five times their size, which is one reason the giants have turned to scholarly pursuits.

  One would have to be mighty stupid to attack these people, I think as the gate opens and we move onto a wide lane shared by giants and common folk alike. The giants are careful with their big steps, thoughtful even, and this has led to some aggressive cart-driving from a group of merchants dragging a giant boar’s carcass with a team of horses.

  “Damn, where’d you guys get that?” I ask the merchant at the front of a team of horses.

  “Fuck you, Lavender, that’s a trade secret!”

  “Language,” Gadsaa calls down to the vulgar merchant. “Cursing is not permitted within the city limits.”

  “Like fuck it isn’t!”

  Gadsaa calmly stops and turns to the merchant. All it would take is a quick kick; the merchant would go flying through the apothecary.

  He changes his tune almost immediately as he apologizes profusely. He gets to a knee, bows his head, offers her sweet nothings in the form of hearty praise, and doffs his hat multiple times.

  As soon as we’re past him, I turn back to him, lock eyes and remove my own hat, so he can get a glimpse of my handle. His face goes white and he slows his horses, putting a comfortable distance between us.

  “It’s here,” Gadsaa says a few minutes later.

  We stand now in front a humble, one-story home with an additional room in the backyard, a guesthouse of sorts. Lothar’s home is crafted from Taelian hardwood and the rooftop is round, like a dome over a stadium.

  A quick look around and I see many of the homes in this area have the same domed roof, which differs from the shops and governmental establishments at the entrance to the city.

  “I’ll knock.”

  “By all means,” I tell Lothar’s ex.

  She knocks and we hear some scrambling on the other side of the door. “Coming, just … just a moment!”

  It takes Lothar two or three minutes to finally answer the door, his red hair a mess and his blue scholar’s robes wrinkled.

  He takes one look at Gadsaa and gulps.

  “Um … ” Lothar brandishes his pair of oval glasses, cleans them on the front of his robe, and clears his throat. “Please, Gadsaa, come in.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” she says bitterly.

  “Hey buddy, she ain’t the only one here!” I wave my hands up at him.

  “Oric!” Lothar’s half-frown tips upwards into a smile. “I was wondering when you’d come! Where’s Wolf?”

  “In the cart.”

  “You’ve covered him?”

  “Fuck, Lothar, just tell me where Sam is.”

  “Language,” Gadsaa reminds me. “You heard me correct the merchant back there, did you not? That same rule applies to you.”

  “Sam is in the guesthouse out back,” Lothar says. “But really, what happened?”

  “It is a long, terrible story. I need to see Sam, now.”

  (^_^)

  Giant doors are constructed with multiple users in mind. The doors feature a small door at the bottom rail for commoners, while the greater door is for giant usage. Normally, I’d go through the smaller door, but with Lothar and Gadsaa behind me, and the fact I’m carting Wolf’s body, I choose to wait for him to open the larger door.

  “Really, Gadsaa,” Lothar says sheepishly, “you don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to.”

  “I want to see who it is that’s staying in your guesthouse,” she says, a tinge of jealousy in her voice.

  “Her name is Sam Raid, she’s an Hourglass Mage and she’s a commoner.”

  “A giant can date a commoner.”

  “We’re not dating.”

  “Stop bickering,” I call up to the two former lovebirds as we finish circling around Lothar’s home to the guesthouse.

  I try, for a brief moment, to imagine a giant fucking a commoner. Nope. Each way I imagine it makes it seem more impossible. But if there’s a will, there’s a way, and if there are babies to be made, there’s definitely a way.

  Lothar knocks, and once Sam calls out, he enters.

  Sam Raid is in an off-white robe, her hourglass over her neck. As soon as she sees me, she leaps forward to give me a hug. She pulls away, gasping as her eyes fall on the cart.

  “Wolf?” she asks hesitantly.

  I answer with a sad nod. “It was … ” I take a look around the room.

  It’s a guest room for a giant, but there are some things that Lothar has added to make it more comfortable for a commoner, such as a moveable stairwell that leads up to the bed.

  “Let’s take a look,” Lothar says as he moves a giant stool into the center of the room.

  “I can’t lift him.” I steel myself to stop a tornado of emotion from swirling in my stomach. “Please … ”

  “I’ve got it,” Lothar says, suddenly taking charge. “Gadsaa, if you are going to stay around for this, please sit.”

  Gadsaa looks from Sam to Lothar and from Lothar to me. “I have to get back to duty. Goodbye, Lothar.”

  With that, and with her chin held high, she stomps out of the guesthouse, the floor shaking with each step she takes.

  The clueless giant shakes his head as soon as she’s gone. “I really don’t know why she is behaving so poorly. Anyway, let’s examine Wolf.”

  The scholarly giant places Wolf on the stool and removes the cloth that was covering his body. The big Tagvornin beast’s eyes are closed, his body incredibly stiff.

  “What the hell happened?” Sam asks, her face a mixture of horror and concern. “And where’s Deathdale?”

  I brief them on what happened in Drachma, how we had rigged the Drachma Killers guild to explode and how everything was going to plan until Stater soldiers, sent by Governor Florin Talonas, burst into the room.

  “But it wasn’t the Stater soldiers who did this,” I say as my hands tremble. “It was Deathdale.”

  “I knew it! That fucking bitch!”

  “Please, we have a rule about cursing in Tael.”

  “Shut up, Lothar,” Sam snaps at him.

  “It was Deathdale’s energy that was used to ignite the explosives, the pine cone IEDs I devised. And rather than stop there, she continued to pour energy into the Canal District until she could no longer control her power. A sphere of energy formed around her and she exploded. Wolf got between us just in time, and took the brunt of the explosion.”

  Sam bows her head. “And it killed him.”

  “It did.”

  Silence stretches between us, only to be interrupted by the giant.

  “It sounds like Deathdale, and you as an extension, flew too close to the sun. An Icarus dilemma, if there ever was one.”

  “Go ahead and lecture me.”

  Lothar shrugs. “That’s not at all my intention, but you were warned about the consequences of riding to Drachma. Revenge is a game without a winner.”

  “It wasn’t supposed to go this way. She promised … ” I take a deep breath, knowing better than to argue with a giant fully capable in the fine arts of reasoning. “She said she wouldn’t destroy the Canal District, and she couldn’t have possibly known her ability would overtake her like that.”

  “She said or promised?”

  “Said, Lothar, fuck. I don’t know. It was ... she agreed not to. That’s it. She agreed not to. And then she did. And this is the result, happy?”

  “Why would I be happy that you lost your familiar?”

  The giant scratches the back of his ta
ngle of red hair, genuinely confused.

  “It’s an expression of speech. Never mind. You wouldn’t get it. And he wasn’t my fucking familiar.”

  “Language. They are serious about that here in Tael.”

  Sam’s leatherbound Book of Time appears in her hand. She sits on the ground cross-legged in front of Wolf, and begins flipping through the pages.

  “You aren’t thinking of using that spell, are you?” Lothar asks.

  Sam nods stoically.

  “But you aren’t at the right level,” he tells her.

  I focus on Sam and her handle appears.

  [Sam Raid, Level 6]

  “You brought him here for a reason, didn’t you, Oric?” she asks me.

  “I … I didn’t know if you could do anything or not. I just couldn’t leave him behind.” I bow my head. “You don’t have to do anything, Sam. Really. This is my fault. Completely my fault.”

  “I’m aware.” She raises her hand and a platinum bracelet with blue accents materializes on her wrist.

  “What’s that?” I ask as I get on my knees next to her.

  “It’s a Blueshift wristband. As you know, I’m a Proxima Smuggler. I was part of the original Pilot Program in the 2050s, and I’ve advanced quite a bit over the last decade.” Sam shakes her head. “Hard to believe a decade has passed.”

  “It is year 2069 for you up there, is it not?” Lothar asks.

  “That’s right,” she says. “The Blueshift wristband banks all the EXP that I gain from any world I travel. It’s generally a one-to-one exchange. If I gain a level, I have the option of storing the EXP or taking the level. In my former role as an Illusionist, I took some of the levels and stored some of the EXP. But in a few of the other worlds I’ve been to recently, such as the shitty NASCAR world I told you about, Oric, I banked all my EXP. The band is also what allows me to teleport my ship.”

  “So you can insta-level up?” I ask.

  “Exactly, and it’s what I’m going to do to get to the correct level to cast a spell known as Reverse Time.”

  “Are you sure, Sam?”

  Her soft eyes settle on me. “I wouldn’t offer it if I wasn’t sure.”

  “What level will you advance to?” asks Lothar.

  “Level twenty-one, so fifteen levels up.”

  (^_^)

  Sam touches her Blueshift EXP band and a prompt appears before her. After one last look in my direction, she accepts the prompt, and her wristband flashes green.

  The definition of her cheekbones increases as her hair turns a shade darker. Her shoulders bulk up slightly and her neck elongates.

  “Whoa!” she says as she leans forward. Her robes flash through a few color changes before settling on an ivory gray.

  “My word! Are you all right, Sam?” Lothar asks.

  “The feeling of leveling up instantly. I always forget how crazy it feels.” She fans her face with her hand. “Okay, one moment. Let me deal with my attribute points.”

  “Don’t put too much in MIND. Take it from me.”

  “I’ll dump at least half of it in MIND. I’m a mage. Being smart helps.”

  Sam’s eyes flash as she doles out her points. While she does so, I look up at Lothar, who is entirely fascinated by the Blueshift wristband and its power. I can tell he’s itching to ask questions.

  “Tell me you tossed some of your forty-five points in STRENGTH,” I joke.

  “I put a few there, but dumped twenty-five into MIND, five into SPEED, five into DEXTERITY, seven into WILL.”

  “Feel anything different?” Lothar asks.

  “Not really.”

  “So it doesn’t feel like your mind has opened up, and all this shit has poured into there?”

  Sam looks at me funny. “Not really. I think you’re exaggerating what it’s like to put points in MIND.”

  “Honest to God, that’s what happens every time I do it.” I think back to my previous avatars. “But you’re right, not all my avatars have reacted this way. Maybe it’s just me. Any new spells?”

  She flips through her Book of Time, nodding her head as she interprets the script. “Several. I now have Spell Surge, which cuts down on the time it takes me to cast something. Time Skip allows me and any object I touch to be taken to the future, like teleportation, but with distance limits.”

  “How much of a limitation?”

  “About half a mile.”

  I nod. “That’ll still be handy. What else you got?”

  She peers down at her book. “Light Shadow. This allows for sudden, rapid movement akin to a shadow. It lasts for a fair length of time too, enough to get around a battle.”

  “Can you, um, show us?”

  “Sure.” Sam lifts her wand, and suddenly, she’s gone. Before I can look around, I feel a tap on my shoulder.

  “Damn, that’s cool,” I say as I catch the hourglass on her neck filling faster than it filled before. Her new Spell Surge ability must run constantly.

  She sits again, the book in her lap.

  “Let me see what else is in here. Ah, there’s also Expedited Retreat, which will definitely come in handy. It allows me, and anyone I’ve deemed as my party, to quickly leave a battle. Let me set it real quick.”

  Sam lifts her wand and a static pink sphere appears on its tip. She holds it in the air above her head, scanning the text, and as she does, a sense of warmth trickles down my shoulders.

  “That felt crazy!” says Lothar.

  “Delay Injury should be self-explanatory.” She flips a page. “There’s also Memory Rot, which drains an opponent's memory, but I’ll have disadvantage when I cast it on someone at a higher level than me. Most of the attack spells are like that. There’s also Obelisk’s Gaze, which allows me to get a feel for future events, something I only felt as intuition earlier, when I warned you against going to Drachma. I fully comprehend this spell now.”

  “Fuck me, you’re a powerhouse now! I was skeptical at first, especially with your spell recovery time, but damn, Sam.”

  “Language.”

  “No one is listening, Lothar.”

  “I also have a spell called Chrono Stasis, which stops time for an object.”

  “You mean you can stop time and, um, move around or something?”

  “Not exactly. It’s like freezing time, but only works on someone else. If I cast it on you, you’d be frozen for a short duration while Lothar and I could move.”

  “Do you have one that freezes time completely?”

  She flips through the book. “Oddly, no, but there are blank pages at the back. But whatever. Back to the new spells..”

  “About those ... ” Lothar starts to say.

  “There’s two more and they’re strictly offensive spells,” Sam cuts him off. “Future Encumbrance sends a delayed strike of chromatic energy at an object thirty seconds after it has been cast.”

  “What’s the point of that?” Lothar asks.

  “It allows for the enemy to try to block the attack,” I tell him. “Once an attack never comes, it throws them temporarily off guard and then the attack strikes.” I mimic what I mean. “Sam attacks me, I go to block it with my shield, and nothing happens. I look around, or start engaging another foe, and boom, it hits me.”

  “Powerfully fantastic!”

  “What’s your other offensive spell?” I ask.

  “Arcane Tide. Casting it creates a wave of chromatic energy that forces enemies to relive past traumatic experiences and causes them damage.”

  “Damn skippy!”

  “Damn skippy is right,” says the pretty chronomancer. “Now. Let’s do this.” She stands and in that instant, I see the Sam I used to know, before she died and became an Hourglass Mage. It is a fleeting glance tethered to the way she holds herself, and even though she is now alive and well, it crushes me to get a glimpse of the way she was before all this.

  And I don’t know why.

  She’s the same Sam, but there is something different about her in her new role. Maybe I can
chalk this up to her appearance, but I believe it is more than that, that her avatar’s class and subclass have fundamentally changed who she is in the game.

  Shut up, Oric.

  “Sorry,” I whisper to myself as I follow behind Sam.

  The Hourglass Mage stands before Wolf, whose dead body still rests on the giant stool. She holds her Book of Time in one arm, her wand in the opposite hand. A shimmering spiral of pink magic from her hourglass necklace twists up her arm.

  It settles on the tip of her wand, dissipates, and flares up again as she aims her wand at Wolf.

  I gulp, the tension in the room now palpable.

  Pink-hued smoke pours out of the end of her wand as she narrows her eyes on her target. With the flick of her wrist, her magic beams forward onto Wolf’s body, lifting the Tagvornin beast into the air.

  Suddenly, Sam falls sideways; her ancient tome slides across the floor.

  “Sam!” I move to her instantly just as I hear a familiar bark.

  One glance over my shoulder and I see Wolf now standing on the giant stool, looking down at us excitedly.

  Chapter Five: Jagraj the Giant Slayer

  Wolf leaps down and runs to me. He jumps into my arms and I fall backwards. “Just give me a moment, Wolf!” I say as he licks my face. His big blue-green eyes, the wild grin on his face, his tongue beating out the side of his mouth – Wolf is truly alive. “Just a second, boy!” I tell him, tears of joy blurring my vision.

  I get him off me and rush to Sam, who now sits cross-legged again, hunched over with her back to me.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Oric.” Lothar clears his throat.

  I move around Sam to find her clutching her hourglass with trembling hands.

  “What is it?” I take a knee before her.

  Sam looks up at me and I gasp.

  Wrinkles have appeared on her face in the form of crow’s feet and two hard lines on her forehead. The color has drained from her eyes; her skin has lost some of its sheen. Her confident, level-boosted posture from just moments ago has shrunk. She now resembles a woman in her late-forties who has taken good care of herself, yet is clearly reaching middle age.

  “The spell aged you?”

  Sam nods as she shows me the hourglass affixed to her necklace. The top bulb has developed a crack that resembles a cartoon drawing of lightning. The sand in the hourglass doesn’t change its position, defying gravity to remain stationary at the top of the bulb.