“Having fun yet?” Sam asks over her shoulder.
“Anytime I ride Wolf, it’s fun.”
She snorts.
“Yeah, laugh it up. You damn well know what I meant. It’s up ahead, by the way. I can tell because of the hill.”
I hop off Wolf, gain my footing, and start running ahead, leaving Sam and the Tagvornin canine behind. I burst through some bramble, nicking my arms a bit but enjoying the speed. Wolf’s hot on my tail, and with less weight on his back, he’s swiftly approaching.
“Faster!” Sam yells and not seconds later, Wolf crashes through the brush, sees me, and leaps.
“Shit!” I roll out of the way just in time. He lands; Sam flies off, flips, and lands on her feet. “And that,” she says, slightly out of breath and after a full bow, “is how you do it!”
“You really are something else, aren’t you?”
“I’m just me.” She turns to the bandits’ hut. “This the place?”
“You were expecting something bigger?”
She gives me a coy look. “Not going to answer that one.” Sam turns, walks up to the place, and begins examining it while I dust off my armor.
“Watch where you’re going next time,” I tell Wolf under my breath. He sits and paws at his nose in a cute way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s gone, by the way,” Sam calls from inside the hut. “Left the door unlocked too.”
I run up to meet her to find her sitting on a chair, one leg crossed over the other.
“It’s not very cozy and you could use a new roof.” She points up at the rafters. “There’s a leak there.”
“It’s not supposed to be cozy; it’s supposed to be a getaway hut.” I take a big whiff of the air. “Hey! It’s not too bad in here, smells like blue melon.”
“Someone cleaned.”
“Wasn’t me,” I say as Wolf enters the hut, his nails clomping against the wooden floor. “Wasn’t him either.”
“A dog that cleans, that’d be something,” she muses. “Hey, what’s this?” She retrieves a letter from the table and unfolds it. “Tin Ingot.”
She hands it to me, and I see the two words hastily written on the torn piece of parchment. “Tin Ingot.”
Quest update!
Deathdale has left you a note to meet her in Tin Ingot. Ride there to meet with her tomorrow.
“Not one for words, your friend.”
“I don’t know if Deathdale is my friend or not.” I run my hand through my hair and tuck some of it behind my ear. “Regardless, she’s gone to Tin Ingot, so that gives us somewhere else to go. Although … ”
“What?”
I think back to the botched kidnapping of Drake Farmrot, orchestrated by the Tin Ingot authorities and ruined by three stray arrows from that asshole Czech Meyout. “I don’t know why she’d go there.”
“Who cares?” Sam’s bottle of stolen Stater Sea Fruit champagne takes shape in her hands and she sets it on the table. “Let’s celebrate.”
Chapter Four: Crimson Moon
How I ended up on the bed with Sam Raid on top of me can be chocked up to luck, good timing, and an abundance of fine wine. Wolf rests near the door, not quite sure what to make of the scene.
Her legs straddled around my waist, Sam drops and bites at my lips. She wraps her hand around the back of my head and pulls me up harshly, pressing her lips into mine.
I fall back, laughing. She’s topless, her panties still on her body but not for much longer. I’m as nude as the day my avatar was created, my pants, armor and Splintered Sword on the floor.
Our intimacy shatters as a rock comes sailing through the window, sending glass onto the floor.
“Shit!” I reach my hands up to pull Sam down, but she pushes me away, equipping her weapon instead.
Wolf jumps just as the door kicks in; he lands on top of the first bandit to enter and goes to town.
“Sam!”
An arrow zips through the window right into Sam’s temple.
She falls to the side in slow motion, where she smacks the side of her face against the wall. Before she can even slouch, another bolt comes through the window and goes right into the side of her neck.
Confusion and anger set in; I scramble to get myself out from under her weight and the tangle of the blankets as more arrows come.
I hit the floor and roll towards my gear, Sam’s blood streaked across my body. Another bandit bursts in and I go to meet him with my Splintered Sword, buck-ass naked and filled with fury.
Instakill!
My blade goes into his stomach and I use his body as a shield.
Thunk! Thunk!
The arrows sail into his back and the man relieves himself, urine and shit pouring down the inside of his pant legs.
Running to my right, I lift the impaled bandit with my blade and stuff him into the shattered window, blocking more arrows. I yank my broken blade out just in time to meet another bandit with a curved sword.
Instincts take over, my reptilian brain, even this deep in the game, and I rise to meet the guy’s sword with my weapon.
Behind me, the guy I stuffed in the window falls and I step aside just in time for an arrow to sail through and get the bandit accosting me in the eye.
-358 HP! Critical hit!
Dead or dying, I push the guy away and keep low to the wall. Wolf is on the other side of the open door now, breathing heavily, his teeth red with blood. He snarls and barks at the door, daring anyone to try to enter.
My brain kicks into high gear.
It’s a fatal funnel scenario, for sure; even though we have advantage in the room as of now, they could smoke us out like Wolf and I did to the bandits that originally owned the place.
But if we go out now, we’ll be prone, I think as I try to level my breath.
I look back at Sam, feel a sob come on, and swallow it down. At that moment, I hate Unigaea with a passion; I hate the harsh rules of the world that so easily strip people of their lives. If it were any other fantasy world, I’d be able to heal her, bring her back.
She can still come back as another avatar, I remind myself, but she won’t be who she was before.
The thought of rebirth does little to quell my anxiety. Sam, the Sam Raid I know, is dead, an arrow through the skull and another through the neck.
The single word comes to me, a whisper at the back of my mind:
Rage.
I feel my muscles tense and something tingle in my chest. I look down to see the Unigaean tattoo glowing blue.
Has it been activated? Something inside my head tells me it has, and I know instantly what needs to happen next. But first, I need my armor.
As my vision starts to blur, I whistle for Wolf and nod towards my pants. He gets the gist and quickly crosses in front of the door, his body low to the ground. Wolf retrieves them and drops them at my feet. As soon as I touch them, they appear on my body – no time to go about doing this the correct way.
Activated by the pants, the rest of the armor takes shape, even as the world starts to tremor and splinter around me.
Rage, I think again, and my blood starts to boil. My muscles pulse, my veins swell, and a sense of total abandon washes over me. “Let’s do this!” I growl.
My Splintered Sword in one hand, I take the lead, bursting out the open doorway and veering towards the right, towards the archer. It’s a suicide mission, I’m sure of this, but sheer animosity clouds my thoughts.
I stop dead in my tracks when I see a group of Tagvornin warriors at the top of the hill outside the hut. Their leader points his sword at me.
The rest charge.
(^_^)
I sprint towards the incoming group and somehow, in the midst of the chaos and fury writhing through me, my reptilian brain turns my Splintered Sword upside down, so I’m holding the blade with the tip pointing towards the ground.
I’m running faster than I ever have, my actions no longer my own as I leap into the air, oblivious to arrows zipping past me,
and bring my weapon down onto the shoulder of the first man I encounter.
-439 HP! Critical hit!
His knees buckle and with one foot on his shoulder, I pull my blade out and use my upward momentum to climb even higher. I crash-land into three or four Tagvornins with their shields up, scattering them like dominoes.
Wolf soars past me and cannonballs into another man with a shield.
My mind buzzes with excitement as I pick up speed, homing in on the pair of crossbow men who are desperately trying to take me out.
Their arrows won’t stick. They plink off my armor as if I’m the teflon don, and even though they have complete advantage firing down at me as I’m lit by the moon, I reach them and get to work, hoping to hasten the death of the fuckers that killed Sam.
The first loses his hand as he tries to block my attack with his crossbow.
-250 HP!
The second lunges at me with a dagger; I strike him in the face with my elbow, sending teeth flying. I follow up with my blade, still upside down. My strike tears into his upper neck and cheek, practically giving him a lobotomy.
Instakill!
Infamy +1!
Instakill!
With a quick swipe, I finish the now-handless NPC archer and return my attention to the shielded Tags, who have half-surrounded Wolf and are narrowing in with their pikes.
Rage at full blast, the world spinning and pulsating around me, I machine-gun towards them and come up on their blindside, bringing my blade in an upward swing that catches three of them.
The men cry out in pain as I turn my blade around and go to meet one of their compadres. He jabs his pike at me; I dodge right and bring a swipe down across his shoulder that brings him to his knees.
-421 HP! Critical hit!
I simultaneously knee him in the face and yank the blade out.
Filled with utter fury, I cut down another Tag and kill him instantly. Leaving Wolf to mop up the rest, I charge the rest of the way up the hill towards their leader.
[Tagvornin Commander, Level 12]
He brandishes a buster sword not unlike the St. Lucia blade given to me by Governor Florin Talonas of Stater.
Rather than start off toe-to-toe, I reach for the front of my armor and grab two of my throwing knives, zinging them off as a distraction.
He bats them away just as the image of Sam flashes across my mind’s eye.
She was just there, alive, on top of me, her light olive skin shimmering in the candlelight of my hut. We were drunk – shit, I may still be drunk – and the sexual tension that had built between us had just come to a head. All was well, all was set …
“And you fucked that up!” I scream into the face of the Tagvornin leader. A stupid thing to scream, sure, but I’m surprised I’m able to get anything out aside from grunts.
Suddenly, my vision pane is alive with red tendrils.
I don’t know how long the tendrils have been there, but with tunnel vision at full capacity, all I can seem to do now is swing my sword blindly.
I keep swinging and swinging, until I’ve overpowered the Tagvornin leader and brought him to his knees.
Instakill!
His head flies off and I barely feel my blade go through his neck. I turn, wipe his blood out of my eyes, and advance towards the shielded men still surrounding Wolf.
My arms move on their own accord, my legs carrying me faster than I’ve ever moved before.
I hack at the shields in front of me – the men in front of me – and as rage surges through me, I close my eyes and keep hacking away.
The sound of metal on metal, metal moving through flesh, Wolf snarling and snapping his teeth, the men left standing crying out in pain, our feet kicking up dirt, their bodies falling, my body falling on top of theirs – as rage becomes me, I notice a percussive cadence to it all, a maniacal pattern of doom and terror, the sick discord of death churning all around me.
Chapter Five: Follow the Rhino
Two vultures wait on the periphery, their wings arched forward, their necks long and angled. One has a strip of flesh in its beak.
“Fuck you.” I spit blood and push myself off a stack of bodies.
Where … ?
It’s then I start to become aware of my surroundings.
I’m resting atop a pile of dead Tagvornins and their shields, my back to them as I stare up at the crimson morning.
“Damn.” I slide off the stack of bodies. My palm naturally lands on one of their helmets, and I toss it at the vulture’s tree, scaring them away.
“Not dead yet.” I grit my teeth and stumble to my feet.
No need to whistle for Wolf. He’s asleep near the hut, and as soon as he sees me, he trots over and looks up with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth as he pants.
“Good boy,” I tell him as I survey the damage.
I killed twelve Tags? Shit. Pretty sure one was a Player Killer …
A glance to my life bar, which blurs into focus on the top of my viewing pane as soon as I think of it, and it shows me I’m at three-fourths health, which should be impossible considering the amount of scattered bodies around me.
This isn’t counting the handful of bandits I slayed in the hut.
I raise my hand to wipe my hair out of my face and notice it is caked with blood, the wrinkles of my finger creating peach crease marks in the red.
My life as a Player Killer is an existence embroiled in revenge; it began as such, and if things continue the way they’re going, it very well may end this way.
I consider this as I slowly make my way towards the hut, getting my footing under control with each step. I slept poorly, but I’d expect nothing else from a night spent sleeping atop a pile of the dead.
The crick in my neck forces a smirk across my face. Little details in Unigaea still continue to amaze me, even after I’ve been permalogged in for a year.
The smirk shatters upon entering the hut and seeing Sam’s bloodied body bundled in the stained blanket on the floor. I no longer get sick when I see dead bodies in Unigaea, but seeing Sam is different – it triggers something deep inside me, and suddenly I can hardly contain the urge to vomit.
“Fuck,” I say as I step out and do the deed. Not two dry heaves later, Sam’s piroshki comes up. “Get away,” I tell Wolf as he approaches me. “I said GET!”
He backpedals and sits on his haunches, angling his head at me in a curious way.
I wipe my lips with my dirty forearm and shake my head at the way he’s looking at me. He gets that he’s being cute, and does a little jig as he hops back up to his feet. He drops down onto his front paws like he wants to play.
“Of all the times to want to play … ” I mumble as I look at the bodies and weapons in utter disarray. “Now is not the time, boy. Later. I promise,” I tell him as I wipe my mouth again.
He sits and cocks his head at me.
“Later. I want to bury Sam.” I shake my head, my throat on fire.
No shovel in my list; I knew I was missing something. I drive my heel against the ground to test its firmness.
It will be difficult to break ground here, and it’s not quite the best use for my sword.
“Think we’ll ever come back here?” I ask Wolf. He barks, drops his head, and shakes it. “Yeah, that’s how I’m feeling.”
I wipe my lips again, noticing a twitch in my stomach.
Hunger is a real thing in Unigaea, and to quell mine and cover the vomit taste in my mouth, I snarf down two hunks of jerky. Of course, this doesn’t go as planned, as one doesn’t simply snarf jerky. So I end up with more than I can chew, trying to do my best Wolf impression since he has no problem swallowing a slice of jerky whole.
Once I’m through eating and I’ve fed Wolf, I again steel myself and enter the hut.
Death is in every corner of the room, the shattered glass on the floor adding a sparkle to the bloody loss of life.
I choke back a sob as I take in the horrible sight of the arrow through Sam’s skull and the br
oken arrow jutting from her neck. Rigor mortis has already set in, evident in the stiffness of her face.
Lifting her and placing her into the bed, I use the end of the sheet to wipe the blood that has dried on her cheeks.
I bend and kiss her forehead. “This won’t be the last time we meet.”
Truth be told, as long as she logs in again and tries to find me, it won’t be difficult for us to reunite. My guess is she’ll look in Tin Ingot, assuming that I won’t want to stick around here.
I can wait for her there.
Sam will have a new avatar and she’ll need to level, but I owe it to her to wait and see what she prefers to do, if she prefers to continue north.
Once I’ve placed her in the bed, I start loading the Tagvornins into the hut, checking each of them for loot. Aside from their weapons, all of which are lower quality than mine – even the commander's – the only thing I can find is some dried Stater sea fruit. Half the soldiers have the stuff, which is known to increase adrenaline when dried and seasoned in a certain way.
I eat the dried fruit and feel no effect on my adrenaline.
As I eat, I examine one of the dead bodies again. The other thing that is strange about this particular group of Tags is their skin color. They’re all much tanner than a typical person from the Rune Lands. These Tags have been getting some sun, or they’ve been in the south longer than they’re letting on.
Strange.
How did they know this was where I’d be?
This has me most troubled, now that I’m able to temporarily get over the fact that Sam is dead (she’ll be back, I can feel it, but this thought doesn’t stop the anguish I continue to feel when I think of her dying on top of me).
Were we followed?
I try to recall mentioning the location of the bandits’ hut to anyone. Word probably got out amongst the bandits living in this area, I conclude, another reason to get the hell out. Sure, it’s a new day, and I’ll be able to rage again, but I wasn’t expecting to pass out after raging, something the Obelisk didn’t mention.
I’ll need to be more careful in the future.
The Last Warrior of Unigaea Box Set: A Fantasy LitRPG Adventure Page 23
