The Last Warrior of Unigaea Box Set: A Fantasy LitRPG Adventure

by Harmon Cooper

  I choke back another sob as I think of Wolf, of his horrible death.

  You need to bury the body, Oric.

  I’m aware, Eric.

  Then why are you carrying him?

  “Because I can’t leave him back there!” I hiss at the voice in my head.

  I see a figure, her form visible as snow flurries spiral in the air before me. She floats backwards, her eyes disco balls but her face covered in long shadows.

  “Obelisk!” I scream to her as I pick up my pace. Snow swirls all around me, a confetti of cold unhappiness. My veins bulge as I move faster, as I try to catch Unigaea’s NVA Seed.

  Please!

  Another step and my boot hits a rock. I stumble forward, and manage to catch myself in time.

  Wolf’s dead weight brings me down and I pull myself up again.

  I don’t know how much longer I can press forward, how much longer I can carry him on my shoulders.

  They will come for you, Oric.

  I’m aware, Eric.

  Log out.

  I press forward, still pursuing the Obelisk, the hallucination, the phantom image.

  The coldness cuts to my very core. I ignore my spasming muscles, I ignore my surroundings, my chattering teeth, my pulsing veins. I focus only on the direction I’m heading.

  Everything is a blur. A stained, tainted, shattered blur, and my choices are what has stained it. My impulsive, stupid fucking choices have led to the death …

  “Wolf,” I whisper. “Help him!” I scream to the Obelisk. “Goddamn you, help him!”

  Log out, Oric.

  Everything is a blur.

  I raise a trembling finger and the logout button appears. I drop to my knees again as my strength leaves me, as the rage fueling my frantic escape drains from my body.

  Log out, Oric.

  Everything is a blur.

  A sphere with a light twisting around it materializes before me, the logout button glowing warmly as my finger moves closer to it. Tears streaming down my face, I jam my finger onto the it.

  (^_^)

  Spiral life. My consciousness is sucked backwards through a vortex for what seems like infinity yet passes by in the blink of an eye.

  Dire spiral.

  I take a deep breath in, a real breath, through an oxygen mask affixed around my face.

  My NV Visor flashes a calming beige color. It lets me know that I’ve been permalogged in for one year and twenty-two days, and that a humandroid nurse has been dispatched to help me with the next steps.

  A cube appears in my pane of vision, and a woman dressed in all black walks onto the scene. She takes a seat on the cube, which turns white as soon as she sits.

  “Hello, Eric Renfro,” she says, a thin smile on her face. Her voice changes tone and her hair changes color. She’s now a brunette with icy blue eyes. “My name is Proxima One, but you can call me Proxy.” She grins at this, and even though I know the name is stupid, I can’t help but relax.

  She’s programmed to please you, Oric, that voice says in the back of my skull. Far back, past the cobwebs.

  She’s based on my female preferences which have been derived from my thought patterns, life chip, search interests, and in-game preferences, Eric.

  Good, Oric, you’re catching on.

  “You sure have been logged in for a long time,” the woman says to me as she crosses one leg over another. “Was there a trauma you were experiencing?”

  “I … Wolf …”

  The voice is mine. I can hear it, but I’m not moving my mouth to say anything.

  Keep telling yourself that, Oric.

  “No,” I finally tell her. “No traumatizing experience.”

  “Our records indicate otherwise. Oftentimes, people that are permalogged in log out to perform what we call an existence check. Are you having questions or any troubles regarding your digital existence?”

  “Fuck me.”

  “If that’s what you’d like, it can be arranged.” She unzips her top and lets a pair of perfectly shaped breasts spill out of her uniform, her nipples tiny and hard. “Would this please you?”

  “Not what I mean.”

  She keeps her breasts out as she continues to speak. “The humandroid nurse will be here soon to begin the first part of your rehabilitation process. As you know, you are in a dive vat, and it takes a few minutes to get you out of the vat, and another ten minutes or so to go through a series of procedures meant to forestall post-traumatic stress. Shall I explain this in a more technical way?”

  “No.”

  She smiles. “I am really happy to see you.”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  She’s not real, Oric.

  I’m the one that told you that, Eric.

  “If this is simply an existence check, please let me know now before the humandroid nurse arrives. Once she begins her process, you will be unable to dive for the next day as you undergo mandatory post-dive procedures.”

  “Should I stay or should I go, huh?”

  As soon as I say that, the song by The Clash starts playing all around me. Proxy bobs her head to the music. “I haven’t heard this one before. Great choice, Eric.”

  “It’s Oric,” I tell her, “and I’d like to go back.”

  The music grinds to a halt.

  She cocks her head at me, a flash of light behind her icy blue eyes. “So this is an existence check, isn’t it?”

  “It is.”

  “Duly noted.”

  Proxy stands from her cube and zips up the front of her jumper. She reaches her hand out. As soon as our fingers touch, I take a deep breath and awaken in Unigaea, my body resting against Wolf’s carcass as I shiver from the cold.

  It’s morning in Unigaea, a crimson morning if there ever was one.

  (^_^)

  “Fuck me,” I whisper as soon as my head stops pounding. I equip my lavender cloak and place it over Wolf, ashamed to see his dead body. If there were more time, I’d consider the existence check, Proxy, and her strange behavior.

  I can’t believe I almost logged out.

  The fire blazing in our hotel room back in Drachma comes to me in a flash. Again, a sense of anger and betrayal follows.

  If Deathdale had just held off, had not taken it that far.

  “She said she would take it that far,” I tell myself as I kick around in the snow, desperate for anything that will burn, anything that could keep me warm.

  She mentioned it, Oric, yes.

  “Yes, she mentioned it. I should have known.”

  Maybe it was a mistake?

  “I don’t know.”

  You will never know, Oric.

  I bring up my stat sheet and see that I’m at about half health.

  Oric Rune

  Class: Level 15 Player Killer

  Subclass: Level 4 Herbalist

  INFAMY: 50 Players killed

  HP: 892/1945

  HP recovery rate: 3% per minute

  ATK: 218 +90

  DEF: 196 +69

  Attributes

  STRENGTH: 13

  WILL: 13

  DEXTERITY: 13

  MIND: 11

  SPEED: 12

  My inventory list comes up, and with the swipe of a finger, I grab one of the healing potions I purchased from the bald bastard at the market in Drachma. Down the hatch it goes.

  +400 HP!

  I chug the next one, just to top off the tank.

  +400 HP!

  Thank God for jerky, I think as I eat the last bit I have in my inventory list. Warmth returns to my body. I’m just about to get a fire going when I think otherwise. Sleep comes over me, and try as I might, I just can’t shake it.

  Maybe my drowsiness has something to do with the existence check.

  With no other way to stay warm, I lie on the ground next to Wolf’s dead body and get under the cloak to await the morning sun.

  The mark on my chest throbs under my armor. Never have I felt so removed from the meaning behind something, so far from th
e actual truth of who I am.

  Last Warrior, it supposedly says.

  “You are anything but.”

  Chapter Two: The Masking Hat

  I awake to the squeaking sound of a wheel in need of greasing. The sun has risen in the crimson sky; it’s now covered by a dark cloud signaling snow.

  I hear the sound again and realize where I am.

  Up I go with my Splintered Sword at the ready. Strength has returned to me. I don’t know where it has come from, but I feel stronger than ever. A merchant approaches, a scarecrow of a man with a wide brimmed hat and sticks for legs. He smells of body odor, even from a good ten feet away.

  “Well, fuck me!” he shouts as soon as he sees me stand with my weapon drawn. “Don’t kill me, buddy! I’m just passing through.”

  I see the side of his cart and a smirk creeps across my face.

  “Grope’s Shed Jerky, huh?”

  “Heard of it?” He plucks a whisker from his chin, examines it, and throws it over his shoulder. “For fuck’s sake, Player Killer, lower your damn blade.”

  “I know Grope.”

  “The Grope?” he asks.

  “Yep. And really, I wouldn’t be advertising I have jerky in there if I were you. People might see it as an opportunity to get a quick meal, which for you would lead to a quick death. Also, you need a bath.”

  He snorts. “Got any other advice, asshole? And I’m not too worried about being attacked by a clan of jerky heads. If it’s a quick meal they want … ” The merchant swipes away the blanket covering the back to reveal several empty crates. “I’m fresh out!”

  The man disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving his hat behind.

  My heart in my throat, I look left and right, anticipating an ambush. When it doesn’t come, and once I’ve realized what has just happened, I can’t help but glance up at the sky, as if she were watching me from the perch of the cloud blocking the sun.

  I can take a hint.

  I pick up the yoke and drag the cart over to Wolf. Crouching before the Tagvornin beast, I try to lift him into the cart.

  Nope.

  I grunt and try again. Not gonna happen.

  A locking mechanism opens at the back of the cart and a ramp slides out.

  “Thanks,” I say passive-aggressively.

  If the Obelisk really wanted to help, she could have prevented Wolf from dying in the first place. Instead, she gives me a cart. Leave it to the world's AI, its neuronal visualization algorithmic seed, to give me a goddamn cart.

  And a hat, Oric.

  “I saw the hat. It’s not my style.” I try to push Wolf up the ramp and fail miserably. “Okay, be that way.”

  I grab my Taelian rope from my inventory, tie it around Wolf’s body, get on the other side of the cart, anchor my feet, and use my full weight to heave him up the ramp. I cover him with the provided blanket, making sure no part of his body is exposed.

  Don’t forget the hat.

  “Fine, I’ll wear the stupid hat.” I walk over to the hat, tuck my hair behind my ears, and place it over my head. “Happy now?”

  Quest update!

  A merchant has given you his hat and his cart. Join your party in the giant city of Tael, and get there as soon as you can!

  (^_^)

  About thirty minutes into my trek, I remember the root given to me by the “rhino merchant.”

  The guy wanted me to kill a rhino for him and I obliged, even though he gave me just about as much shit as I’ll tolerate from an NPC.

  I think he even called me wolfboy fucker.

  For killing the rhino he gave me a bunch of stuff from Tritania: Jatla root, wizardous, and Aramis weed, only one of which has proven helpful. He said something about the root increasing stamina, so I give my list a scroll, and take the root out.

  The root looks like ginger but smells like shit. It probably should be boiled, but I’m in a hurry, and right now my bad memories are chasing me.

  Better to stay moving, keep your mind on something else, Oric.

  “Got it,” I tell the voice in my head. After wiping some dirt off the root, I take my first bite. The root is bittersweet, but it doesn’t taste like it smells, which works for me.

  A few steps later and I feel my energy pick up.

  It’s as if I’ve just had an intravenous shot of Red Bean meth coffee. It’s a weird high; I sense that there may be something of a comedown, but I keep chewing on it as I trot along. “Shit yeah!” I shout, scaring some crows in a tree with white bark.

  My muscles bulge as I blaze towards the horizon, kicking up dust and debris.

  When in doubt, drugs.

  My brain is on fire! A mile a minute my legs match my pace, stumbling and crawling over each other as I continue to cut a direct path to Tael.

  I recall logging out, how strange it was, the woman named Proxy appearing on my vision pane and unbuttoning her jumper. I backtrack on my thoughts and I settle on Deathdale, energy radiating around her, an explosion imminent.

  My good moods ends at the memory of Wolf stopping me from approaching Deathdale.

  He knew. He saved me.

  I slow my pace a bit and look over my shoulder at the bundle in the back of the cart. A wave of emotion rolls over me, and to counteract it, I take another bite of the Jatla root, suck back a pathetic sob, and keep on running as I chew more of the root.

  Whoo!

  As I pick up my pace, I try to silence the chatter of my mind, the endless thoughts berating me in the form of images and situations I could have avoided. My thoughts are mini supernovas, each explosion brighter and more painful than the last.

  I groan, eat more root, press forward.

  Sometimes the best way to live is by never looking back. So I keep my eyes and thoughts trained on the horizon, on where I’m going rather than where I’ve come from.

  I’m hungry as hell when afternoon comes. After another fifteen minutes or so of running with hunger pangs, I see a rest point a few hundred yards away and trot over to it.

  Lo and behold there’s a fire still going and a small pig freshly roasted on the fire.

  This bothers me, not the fact that there’s free food to be had, but the fact that the Obelisk is just now finding the time to help me out. Where the fuck was she last night? Why couldn’t she have put a wall between Wolf and the exploding Solar Mage?

  I take off my hat and wipe sweat off my brow.

  It’s ugly, but it is keeping the sun off my back, so the hat goes back on. Practically drooling now, I start picking at the pig, eating as much as I can stuff in my mouth.

  “You would have loved this,” I tell the lump that is Wolf’s dead body.

  Nothing funny about it. He would have gone to town on this pig. And I suddenly feel guilty for talking to his corpse. The first time Wolf and I ate together comes to me in a flash.

  It was in the Eastern Splits, not long after we encountered each other on the mountain pass. He ran off the next morning and I thought it would be the last I’d see of him. Boy was I wrong. He came back thirty minutes later, a baby gazelle in his maw.

  I approached him cautiously, not sure if he wanted to share. He let me take the other end of the gazelle, its legs, and then started up a goddamn game of tug-of-war.

  Eventually, Wolf let me cook the animal, and sure, I gave him the lion’s share of the catch, but I’ll never forget that moment. I’ll never forget reaching out to him, not sure of how he’d react, or the first time we ate together, played together, got to know each other.

  I’ll never forget what it felt like to solidify our friendship.

  And now this.

  Riders approaching in the distance catch my attention.

  The three are on small Metican horses. They carry the red flag of the Drachma Killers, which I take as a symbol of Drachma itself. The first to approach, a thin man with his hair braided, calls me over to him.

  [Drachma Soldier, level 21]

  “You there, in the lavender cloak, have you seen a Player Killer with a
wolf? They say he wore a purple cloak.”

  He doesn’t know?

  I instinctively touch my hat as the realization dawns on me.

  It’s masking my handle!

  “Ahem, never seen nobody,” I say in a hickish accent common to some of the peasants of southern Unigaea. “And I hate purple. I, um, only wear lavender.”

  What the fuck are you saying!?

  “That accent … ” The Drachma soldier hops down from his horse and my fingers twitch. My sword is under my cloak; surely, he can see its outline. Still, it isn’t uncommon for a merchant to be carrying a weapon in these parts. “Where are you from?”

  “Karuna,” I tell him, “by way of Scudo.”

  “Ah! Karuna, what a peaceful city.” He stops in front of the cart and reads it. “Grope’s Jerky Shed, huh? Any of you guys ever heard of this?”

  His mounted companions shake their heads ‘no.’

  The Drachma soldier places his foot on the cart and puts some weight into his heel. “Sure is heavy.”

  “That’s what she said?”

  “Is that a joke?” he asks me. “Because if it is … ” He turns to the other soldiers and they share a laugh. “We’ve never heard that one before!”

  “Glad to share it then.”

  “Ha! Well, let’s take a look at what you have here before we get on our way.” He approaches the back of the cart. “It sure is big, whatever it is. Doesn’t look like jerky.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stands to attention as he reaches for the blanket. Just then, a loud scream in the distance catches his attention.

  “You guys hear that?” he asks his riding companions.

  Another scream, this one louder than the first.

  The Drachma soldier turns to his horse and climbs on. “It sounds like it’s coming from over there, down that hill, in that patch of trees. Let’s go!”

  “Good luck!” I call after them, my ass saved by the Obelisk again.

  Chapter Three: Meta Babies and the Gamification of the 21st Century

  Not much happens for the three hours after my encounter with the Drachma soldiers. They can’t be the only search party, which now makes Oric Rune a wanted man.

  Great.

  The sun is high in the sky now but it is still cold, my muscles only kept warm by the increased movement and the stamina given to me by the Jatla root.