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

by Harmon Cooper

  “It doesn’t say anything,” Lothar corrects me. “What do you see, Sam?”

  “It’s hazy at best, but I believe Arcane Tide will work. It will at the very least take Broken down. I see him floating in a pyramid of magic. This will ground him. But we will still need to kill him.”

  “And how will we do that?”

  She raises an eyebrow at me. “The same way we’ve done it in the past.”

  “You two are cryptic!”

  I nod, totally appreciating Sam’s gaze. “So there will be some chance involved after all, huh?”

  “On the kill, yes, but I can ground him.”

  “And I can kill him.”

  Wolf barks, emphasizing my last statement.

  “And you’re certain he’ll be floating?” asks Lothar.

  Sam laughs. “What kind of douchey OP mage isn’t floating?”

  Chapter Twelve: An Orc Pisses Himself and Thus Begins a Preemptive Strike

  No distractions this time around, and thankfully, no fucking necromancers. Our trip from the campsite towards the battle is relatively conflict free, aside from a point where Lothar stepped on a giant thorn bush. And how do I know exactly where the battle is set to take place?

  The map on my dashboard. Cheating, I know, but purity of play doesn’t always trump the practicality of necessity.

  Most battles aren’t announced through notices, unless you’ve opted in to be notified of actions taking place in and around a certain area, akin to a GoogleFace alert. However, a battle between what seems like the north and the south, but in actuality is the game’s flaming zombie of an AI versus a zealous asshole of an RPC – that’s the kind of battle that people come out for.

  It’s approaching night now and the sky still has its crimson tinge, evidence that something much bigger is taking place up north. We’ve moved down the sloping hills that surround the Western Splits, through streams, across meadows, over a hill and through the woods. The forest is still thick, but the trees have thinned out to some degree.

  We’re over a mile away from the battle, but I can already see the afflicted on the horizon, a great fire blazing in the distance. I can’t make them out individually, but several thousand burning men and women lined up can be seen for miles around from the right vantage point.

  Lothar confirms this with his monocular. He also confirms there are Meticans gathered as well as other groups.

  “That should do it.” I finish making my last magnolia pinecone IED, and hand it to Sam to examine. She’s checked out each cone, just to be sure that I’ve made them correctly.

  Which is an insult, because I am the sole inventor of the pinecone IED, and if there’s one thing I’d like to be remembered for, it’s that!

  “This one looks good.” She tosses it back to me.

  “Where should I be?” Lothar asks. “That’s one thing we haven’t covered.”

  The giant sits on his meditations box, a curious look on his face. Talk about a burden – he carries that damn box, which is about the size of a compact car, everywhere he goes. I recall my meditations box from a previous avatar, back when I was a scholar in Solidus. It mostly stayed in my quarters.

  “Like I said before, Lothar, you should be as far away from the battle as possible.”

  “Don’t be rude to him,” Sam says.

  “Nothing rude about it. The battle will be grueling and violent, even if we’re trying to do what we need to do tonight, before it starts. If he doesn’t need to be part, it’s better to be far away.” The wind carries the sound of screeching griffins to us. “Case in point. There will be aerial attacks as well.”

  “How do you know the battle will start tomorrow?” Lothar asks.

  “A hunch. Any military leader in Unigaea would try to avoid a night battle with the pyro afflicted.”

  “The Obelisk may move on them,” Sam says as she gets off Wolf’s back. She stretches her arms over her head, and rolls her neck on her shoulders.

  “Getting sleepy, Sam?”

  “Hardly.”

  “And to answer your question, I’d bet your counterfeit lira the Obelisk makes her play tonight. Now, let’s talk about your teleportation magic.”

  “You mean Time Skip?”

  “Yes.”

  Sam bites her lip as she thinks. “I can only move half a mile or so into the future, which is odd, as it isn’t exactly the future, but the future of my potential trajectory. I can move shorter distances as well, but I believe that’s the furthest I can travel.”

  “What’s stopping you from teleporting, recharging, and teleporting again?”

  Sam looks at me like she wants to punch me.

  “What?”

  “Very good question, Oric!” Lothar looks at Sam and shrugs. “I’m not being facetious, you know.”

  “I didn’t think of that,” says Sam, clearly upset with herself for not thinking of it earlier. I suppose that is the problem with always competing with yourself, sometimes you lose no matter what you do. Or something.

  Dammit, MIND, shut up.

  “It is theoretically possible,” Lothar adds. “And rather than walking this entire way, we should have traveled like that. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that!”

  “I can’t believe I did.”

  He laughs jovially. “I agree, I can’t believe you did as well, Oric.”

  I look to Wolf for support and he yawns.

  “You’re going to need to wake your ass up, Wolf, we’ve got a long night ahead.”

  He lays down, his back to me, his tail flopping against the ground.

  “Let’s try it then.” Sam touches my arm. Her wand appears in her hand and a wisp of pink magic spirals around its tip.

  One pink flash later and we stand about fifty feet away, looking back at Lothar and Wolf.

  “Holy … ”

  Wolf barks and trots in our direction. With her hand on her wand, Sam waits for the sand to trickle to the other side. Wolf reaches us, and as he does, Sam whispers the incantation and boom! We are fifty feet further from where we just stood.

  “It works!” I say, Wolf barking madly now as he chases after us. “And as an aside, this is a great way to play with Wolf.”

  Sam examines her hourglass and frowns.

  “What?”

  “It’s warm, not piping hot or anything, but warm enough that I think we should let it cool down before trying again. I believe I’m ready to try to send us further away.”

  “That’s fine,” I tell her as I place my hand on her shoulder. “As long as it gets us there, we can take our time.” I bite my lip and consider my next words carefully. “And as long as it gets us away, because that’s the next obstacle, getting the hell out of there with the First Artifact once we’ve killed Broken.”

  Wolf reaches us, panting now.

  “I have spells for that too, for retreat.”

  “Good, because if there is a fan in Unigaea, shit is about to hit said fan.”

  Sam nods. “Wolfie, come over here.” She drops as he approaches and runs her fingers behind his ears. “You’re not going to like this, buddy.”

  The ground shakes and we turn to see Lothar approaching us.

  (^_^)

  Sam and I get on Wolf’s back, Sam’s wand at the ready. The scholarly giant stands behind us with his hands clasped together and his chin held high. He’s still upset about the perceived injustice of keeping him here, but really, it’s safer this way, and the logical part of him must know that.

  “And we’ll be able to travel using Time Skip once you get back?” Lothar asks. “To the Rune Lands?”

  Sam lowers her wand, and thinks it over. “There was nothing in my book that said anything about the number of objects or the size of the objects that I can transport. Just as long as I’m touching them. But still, I’ll need recharge time.”

  “Fine,” he says, kicking at the dirt. He drops onto his meditations box. “I’ll be here waiting.”

  “I’ll bring you a trophy from the fight. H
ow’s that sound?”

  “A trophy?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him, “the First Artifact. Let’s go, Sam.”

  “Bye guys,” says Lothar as he kicks his feet at the dirt.

  A pink flash later and the three of us are half a mile closer to enemy lines. Sam immediately drops her free hand to Wolf’s head and pets him softly. “It’s okay,” she tells him, “just relax.”

  I can tell by the movement of his muscles that he is anything but relaxed. “You’ll be fine,” I say, “just a few more trips. But let’s rest for five minutes or so.”

  I get off Wolf and offer Sam my hand. Once she gets down, Wolf quickly runs to the right and starts to dry heave.

  “So the dog doesn’t like water, and he doesn’t like teleportation magic. Anything else he doesn’t like?” Sam asks.

  “He doesn’t like fuckboys, but you and I both know that there’s nothing either of us can do about that.”

  “Fuckboys? Is that a Chicago word or anachronism?” She places her hand on her hourglass necklace and smooths her fingers over the cracks. The sky is clear, and while it is dark, its crimson color paired with a brighter than normal moon gives everything an infrared glow, including Sam’s face.

  “I don’t know where I heard that word. Maybe a goblin.”

  She laughs. “So you hang out with goblins now?”

  “Not yet.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means I have no idea where my digital life will take me five or ten years from now. Hell, by 2075, I may be in a guild with a goblin. There’s no telling.”

  “You’re exhausting, Oric.”

  “Good, let’s rest then. How about your place? Is the Warp Rider Hotel open for business tonight?”

  She laughs. “Yeah, it’s open, if, and only if, we make it through this mission.”

  “And Wolf can come?”

  “Who will keep Lothar company?”

  “His scrolls and books can keep him company. If he were from our world, he could just dive to a Proxima world to pass the time.”

  “Be nice to Lothar.”

  “I’m kidding. I actually really like him, when he’s quiet.”

  “Which is never.”

  “And when he helps us in combat.”

  “Which is rare.”

  “But he’s getting better. At least he hasn’t rattled off about being a pacifist recently. You ready?”

  She nods. “Let’s do this.”

  Sam stands next to Wolf and places her hand on his shoulder. I place my hand on hers, and with another pink flash, we’re standing only about a quarter mile away from the Stater war camp.

  Just seeing the Stater banners and knowing Florin Talonas is somewhere in the mess of those gathered boils my blood. But avenging Deathdale is a foolhardy plan, and I’ve learned firsthand the pyrrhic aftermath of revenge.

  So I swallow my desire to see to Florin’s end.

  “What are you thinking about?” asks Sam.

  “I’m just remembering some stuff.”

  “Okay, vague. But that’s fine. You ready to get changed?”

  With the snap of my fingers, I’m out of my Giant Slayer armor and in my Stater gear. Sure, the griffin emblems have been buffed out, but it’s night and the odds of someone seeing this fact or caring about it are slim.

  “I’m glad we agreed not to try the prisoner route again,” Sam says, “even though you suggested it.”

  “Hey, it worked in Tangka, why wouldn’t it work here?” I shrug her off. “Anyway, nothing’s odd about our current infiltration plan. Just a handsome Stater guy with his Tag and his main squeeze?”

  She cringes. “Main squeeze?”

  “I thought we were going with the you’re-my-mage-girlfriend act if anyone asks.”

  “Main squeeze just sounds gross.”

  “What about mage squeeze? That has a ring to it.”

  “Even worse.”

  “Fine, you’re right. Actually, I have no idea why people used to say main squeeze.”

  “You’re all about anachronisms tonight.”

  “I guess I’m feeling nostalgic,” I tell her as we walk to the camp.

  We’re far enough behind enemy lines now that I don’t believe we’ll have any trouble, at least I hope not. That’s another thing we’ve agreed to do – keeping it as casual looking as possible – which is why I’m going for the light banter as we approach the encampment.

  We pass our first soldier, an orc in tight Stater armor. The brute has a face full of warts, an overbite the best dentist in the world would have little hope of correcting, and pierced, cauliflower ears.

  [Orc, Level 6]

  He eyes us for a moment as he whips out his pecker. As he pisses, a jagged smile forms on his face, especially as he takes Sam in.

  I feel her hand lightly fall on my arm.

  Behave, Oric.

  I’m trying to, I tell the voice in my head.

  “Fancy night to take a piss,” says the orc, his stream of piss like that of a horse. “Wouldn’t mind giving your lady there a golden shower.”

  Easy, Oric.

  Sam’s wand materializes in her hands and she whispers, “Chrono Stasis.”

  The orc is suddenly frozen in time; even the arc of piss streaming from his dick is completely stationary.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Sam laughs. “I don’t want to get that close to it.”

  “I’m wearing gauntlets, so it really doesn’t matter.”

  “Hurry then, and no more bullshit like this after. We’re too close to the camp.”

  “Completely agreed, but this will be worth it.”

  Wolf watches me curiously as I step over to the orc and angle the hand holding his pecker up, so his healthy stream of piss will now reach his face. I move back over to Sam, and after a very awkward thirty seconds, time speeds up for the orc.

  “Fuck!” he shouts as his own piss sprays into his mouth. He curses more as he tries to get his dick under control.

  Sam and I move on, huge smiles on both of our faces, the orc too distracted with pissing in his own face to give a shit about us any longer. Once we reach the edge of the camp, I can’t help but laugh out loud. “Damn, I really, really wish we had thought to use your magic for pranks earlier on.”

  “There will be plenty of time for pranks later, I hope.”

  Wolf snorts.

  “He thinks it was funny too.”

  I stare into his big blue-green eyes hoping for some indication that he understands the practical joke we just played.

  “I don’t know if he’s that smart.”

  “If we had more time to level, I’d put all his points in MIND, and he’d be as chatty as Lothar by the end.”

  “That’d be interesting,” Sam says, as we pass a campfire with soldiers sitting around it.

  Two great cauldrons rest on their sides next to the campfire, and by the way the soldiers sit, their bellies extended and their armor off, I’d say Florin is getting these men ready for a long day tomorrow.

  No one gives a shit about us, which is music to my ears. We hardly elicit a glance as we move deeper into the camp, passing tents of varying sizes.

  “Pardon,” Sam calls over to a Player Character with the top portion of his armor unequipped. “We’ve just arrived from Tin Ingot. Is there a camp map?”

  “You didn’t get the prompt?” he asks, not the least bit suspicious.

  “We were wondering about that,” I say. “I figured it’d be automatic.”

  With a wave of the man’s hand a prompt appears and Sam accepts it. “Great,” she says. “And thanks!”

  “Wait, where did you guys say you were from again?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

  “Tin Ingot.”

  “And you just now joined the war party? Tin Ingot was nearly destroyed two days ago.”

  My heart sinks as I remember the gnomes, Arun and Chantrea. I hope they made it out, and something tells me they did.


  “Of course we remember,” Sam laughs him off. “We were there! Came from Mohar to join that battle, but we stuck around for a little bit, just to see if there were any Player Characters we could pick off.”

  “Okay,” he says, slowly backing away. “It was more brutal of a battle than I thought it would be, but it was necessary.”

  “Yes,” I agree, gritting my teeth. “Necessary to see Talonas’ plan to completion.”

  The soldier shrugs. “Still, women and children. A lot were caught in the crossfire.”

  “They’re only NPCs,” Sam says with a tone of cruelness to her voice that I know is fake, yet sounds completely convincing.

  Wolf growls and I place my hand on his head.

  “Don’t mind him. He’s one of the new wolves; still getting used to being this far south,” I say.

  “Aye, I’ve seen that happen with the Tag wolves. They are quite stubborn.”

  “Yeah, he’s pretty stubborn, but not as bad as some of the others.”

  The man steps away. “Well, good luck tomorrow.”

  “Same to you.”

  And just as I say this, a fiery explosion ignites the front of the camp.

  We all turn right to hear screaming. While I can’t see burning people yet, the flicker of flames in the distance and the way people now run towards us shouting “pyro afflicted!” can mean only one thing.

  Just as Sam predicted, the Obelisk has gone for a preemptive strike.

  (^_^)

  “Kill them all!” Someone should shout it, and since Stater’s finest are running around like a bunch of pussies, I figured that someone should be me. “Kill them all!” I scream again. Besides, the more distractions the better.

  Sam laughs as I brandish my Splintered Sword. “My turn. To the north! Kill them all!”

  Wolf barks madly in the direction of the battle, not smart enough to realize that those are our people over there. At least I hope they are. Truth is, I’m not certain that the afflicted will distinguish us from their enemies, and I’m sure that the Meticans riding on their little ponies – once they do reach us – won’t give a fuck either way.

  Stater forces, NPCs, RPCs, and Player Characters alike start to move past us, some of them still in the process of equipping their armor. The afflicted are hard as hell to kill, and the psychological aspect of having a flaming zombie descend upon you is hard for many to handle.