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

by Harmon Cooper

  “I thought that was the governor’s place.”

  “The governor in a castle on a hill?” Lothar shakes his head. “Giants know better than to make such an easy target of a high-ranking public official! Actually, Governor Barnett lives in a neighborhood near mine called Two Stones Throw.”

  “Smart.”

  “Giants have bigger brains, plain and simple.”

  “Which is why you guys are all scholars?”

  “Not all of us, but a good many. Anyway,” Lothar waves his hand towards the lane leading to the castle, “this part of the city is known for its pastries. Have you ever had a giant pastry?”

  “I can’t say that I have.” Now that he has mentioned the area, I notice the smell of baking and sugar in the air. Can’t believe I missed that earlier.

  “We will try one then, after we meet my friend Fafner. And I will tell you more about the giant tradition of pastry-making then.”

  “Okay. Got it. Care to tell me why we are going to the repository? I don’t like surprises.”

  Lothar laughs as we begin our way up a flight of stone stairs. “I too don’t enjoy surprises, but this one will be worth it!”

  (^_^)

  “Right this way!” Fafner says as soon as Lothar and I enter the Repository.

  Fafner is a half a head taller than Lothar, thinner too. He wears a nicely pressed tunic and a silk cravat. “I’m busy today, so I hope you understand that we need to hurry here.”

  “Whatever floats your boat.”

  “I haven’t a boat, commoner.”

  “It’s a saying.”

  Lothar and I follow Fafner down a corridor decorated with paintings of famous giants.

  “No tour?” I ask as I spot a nude female giant in a bascinet. She stands with one foot on a crushed home, milk spraying from her exposed tits. “And is there any way I can get a copy of this one?”

  “What!?” Fafner cries. “This is absolutely not pornographic material! That is a picture of Busty Gazongas the Giantess, known throughout the Proxima Galaxy as the Mother of Giants.”

  “Never heard of her, and no one said anything about pornography.”

  Fafner looks to Lothar in a way that says, ‘really? These are the people you associate with nowadays?’ The giant painfully brings a hand up to his face to massage his temples. “Should I tell him or you?”

  Lothar clears his throat. “I will. Busty Gazongas isn’t actually from Unigaea.”

  I picked up on that in his ‘Proxima Galaxy’ part. “Damn, guys, I was honestly just trying to make a joke.”

  “And she is well-respected in all giant communities. Many giants take offense at those who speak ill of Busty Gazongas.”

  “You’re lucky some of the more unruly members of our community aren’t here,” says Fafner, the glorified tour guide with a clear bias against commoner asshattery and humor in general. “Follow me.”

  Nothing else is said as Fafner leads us down a flight of stairs into a basement with items in storage boxes. In the center of the room is a large rectangular box, human-sized and covered by a royal blue blanket.

  Fafner sighs bitterly. “I must say, Lothar, I don’t feel as good giving this to him now after he insulted the Mother of Giants.”

  “Please, Fafner, don’t take him so seriously.”

  I sigh audibly. “All right, guys, I’m insensitive, you got me, but let’s be clear: you have a picture of a nude lady in a helmet out there stomping a house while her breasts squirt milk like they’re fire hoses or something. What else was I supposed to think? You two are lucky I don’t have any hidden fetishes!”

  “It’s called the Nectar of Life,” Lothar says, “that’s what she is squirting.”

  “Yeah, milk, the Nectar of Life, same shit.”

  “Let’s just drop it,” my giant companion suggests.

  Fafner huffs. “Clearly, the commoner has no class. And it isn’t just milk, it is the Nectar of Life.” He rolls his eyes. “Anyway. Let’s wrap this up. Beneath this blanket is the armor of Jagraj the Giant Slayer, the commoner who attacked Tael and nearly bested an army of giants, blah, blah, blah. May his filthy soul rest as poorly as humanly possible.”

  “I thought no one had ever tried to take on the giant city,” I say to Lothar. “At least that’s what I learned in Solidus.”

  “It is something we don’t brag about,” he explains. “For optics, mainly, but also to discourage anyone else from attempting what Jagraj did. Anyway, I know you aren’t happy about wearing your Stater armor, so I thought this armor would be more suitable for you.”

  Fafner unveils the armor and I take a step back, shocked at just how badass it is. “The top is Scudo Lorica Segmentata, the shoulder pads of which have been modified to allow for movement. There is an attached chainmail arm covering available, but I don’t know if that is something you’d like to wear or not. Besides, the Scudo Grimoire Gauntlets provide plenty of forearm protection.”

  “They look heavy.”

  “They are light, actually. Where was I?” Fafner asks, annoyed now. “You know what? I don’t have time for this explanation. There is a tour coming up in twenty minutes and I need to prepare. Here’s the armor, take it or leave it. I’ll leave you two down here.”

  He storms out of the room, shaking the floor as he exits.

  “Man, who pissed in his cornflakes?”

  “What?” Lothar asks. “Oh! An expression from up there. An idiom, is it?”

  “Not really. Just saying. Your friend is mad bitchy.”

  “He isn’t mad, but he is bitchy at times. He believes that worshipping Busty Gazongas has improved his well-being.”

  “It definitely hasn’t improved his attitude,” I say under my breath.

  “Let’s check out this armor!” Lothar lifts the glass case off the armor and sets it down.

  “It seems a bit bulky,” I say as I approach the Giant Slayer Armor. Something about it reminds me of a beefed up version of what linebackers wear.

  There’s no way it’s as light as it looks.

  “Just try it on and see how it feels.”

  Rather than unequip my Stater armor piece by piece, I snap my fingers and the armor disappears, leaving me in my underclothes.

  “That’s one way to do it.”

  “Don’t look at my proof of manhood. It’s smaller than yours.”

  “I absolutely would not!”

  I walk over to the Giant Slayer’s armor and as I touch each piece, the piece appears on my body.

  Armor: Scudo Lorica Segmentata

  Grade: A

  Weight: Medium

  Def: +62

  Special: SPEED +1

  ---

  Armor: Scudo Grimoire Gauntlets

  Grade: A

  Weight: Medium light

  Def: +15

  Special: Evade +13%

  --

  Armor: Solidus Tassets Belt

  Grade: B

  Weight: Medium light

  Def: +10

  Special: Evade +13%

  --

  Armor: Scudo Grimoire Greaves

  Grade: A

  Weight: medium light

  Def: +10

  Special: SPEED +1

  I bring my stats up just to check the total defense bonus I’ve received as well as the two points in SPEED. Even though I know I’ll receive the two points, I always check. Old habits die hard.

  Oric Rune

  Class: Level 15 Player Killer

  Subclass: Level 4 Herbalist

  INFAMY: 50 Players killed

  HP: 1945/1945

  HP recovery rate: 3% per minute

  ATK: 218 +90

  DEF: 196 +97

  Attributes

  STRENGTH: 13

  WILL: 13

  DEXTERITY: 13

  MIND: 11

  SPEED: 14

  Lothar claps his hands together. “You look like a real tough guy in that armor!”

  A real tough guy?

  I turn my hand, examining
the gauntlet. “It is pretty nice.”

  “And it should come in handy,” he says as he turns towards the exit. “There is no telling what we will encounter on our way to the Rune Lands, and as you know, I’m a bit of a pacifist.”

  “You’re a bit of one now? I thought you were full on pacifist.”

  “I am,” he says over his shoulder, “but I also have respect for our team, our guild, if you will.”

  “We have a guild now, huh?”

  I take a step into the main hallway, still getting used to the armor’s weight. It is definitely heavier than my Stater stuff, but there’s a buoyancy to it, likely because of the SPEED points and the evade percentage increase.

  “How should we classify ourselves then?” he asks.

  “A Player Killer with a big wolf, a scholarly giant, and an Hourglass Mage? I’d say we are a motley crew if there ever was one.”

  “So do we need a name?”

  I consider this for a moment. “No, let’s not adopt a name. Let’s just be ourselves. That is, unless Sam wants a guild name, because if mama ain’t happy … ”

  “Sam is a mother?” he asks as he takes the stairs to the top floor.

  It is strange how quickly I’ve become used to seeing a giant man moving alongside me as if he were my size. I look up at him and smile.

  “I don’t know, Lothar. You’d have to ask her.”

  Chapter Six: Gorgefest

  “I think I’m going to retire for the day,” I tell the chatty giant after we’ve reached his home. “It’s getting late, well, late enough, and really, you don’t want to know the shit I went through last night.”

  “When you say it like that … ”

  “Long story short, I used drugs from another Proxima world and my rage ability to get Wolf here as quickly as possible.” I yawn to prove my point. “I’m exhausted, twitchy, and I’d like to set out early in the morning. Love the armor, though, can’t thank you enough.”

  Quest update!

  You have joined your companions in Tael. Ride for the Rune Lands tomorrow!

  The thought comes to me that the Obelisk has known all along that things would be okay, aside from Sam’s hourglass cracking. No way to prove it though. Could be circumstance, I think, as I swipe the belated quest update away.

  “And you’ll be resting where?”

  “The guesthouse, with Sam. Don’t give me that look. That’s a giant bed in there. It’s big enough for ten people.”

  “That’s an exaggeration.”

  “Is it? You get my point.”

  “But I thought we were going to order a pastry!” Lothar looks genuingly upset now.

  “Order a pastry yourself, and order more for us to eat for breakfast. Bright and early, soldier!”

  I enter the guesthouse, and Wolf charges forward to meet me. He’s as energetic as ever, and I decide I should let him out for a moment, which puts me back in the courtyard with Lothar.

  “So you changed your mind?” the giant asks, turning back to me.

  “Wolf has been holding it in for two days now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He has to piss. Look, Lothar, I’m tired. We’ll try your famous pastries, I assure you, but we’ll do it tomorrow.”

  “Fine, fine.”

  The Tagvornin beast marks his territory, marks it again and again, and returns to my side.

  “Goodnight, Lothar.” I wave over my shoulder.

  Once I’m back inside the guesthouse, I unequip my armor and climb up the ladder that leads to the bed. Sam is bundled up at the edge of a giant blanket. Wolf remains at the foot of the bed, whining as he judges if he can climb the ladder or not.

  I stand at the edge of the giant bed; Sam speaks without looking over at me.

  “Bathe first.”

  I sniff my armpit. “I smell that bad?”

  “You smell like you carried a dog on your shoulders all night.”

  “That was two nights ago, last night I pulled Wolf’s body in a cart.”

  “Bathe.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I will bathe Wolf too.”

  Sam laughs. “That’s cute. Do that. Put a bow on his head or a handkerchief around his neck if you have one.”

  “Fine, but at least check out the new armor I got.” I snap my fingers and the giant slayer armor appears on my body.

  Sam turns to me and nods, clearly impressed. “That is some armor! It looks bulky.”

  “That’s what I thought?” I say as I do a little circle. “But it isn’t bad.”

  “You really look like a warrior now.”

  “And I didn’t before?”

  She yawns. “No comment. Go get a bath.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say as I enter into a giant-sized bathroom.

  The tub is the size of a one-story building. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that I’ll be able to turn the handles without some serious force. I think briefly of using my Taelian rope to latch onto one of the sides and jump to the other, propelled by digital gravity. But with that much water, I may drown.

  I touch the vampiric mermaid bite on my neck.

  “Nope, not going to drown.”

  I glance at Wolf, who is getting more and more suspicious as to why we’re in the bathroom. He starts to back away, and as he does, I notice a second, smaller door on the far side of the room beneath a towel rack.

  “Another door, huh? Good find, Wolf! Come on.”

  He joins me at the other door and I pop it open to find a human-sized bathroom. There is some mold on the ceiling, and the toilet doesn’t look like it flushes well, but other than that, the smaller space seems legit enough.

  The little tub looks nice too.

  A stained glass window cut diagonally above the tub allows for some pretty good lighting. I get a kick out of the fact that the stained glass features Busty Gazongas, again squirting milk from her mammaries as she stomps a village to pieces.

  “Giant art, am I right?” I ask Wolf as I twist the handle next to the faucet.

  It takes a moment, and at first the water is a bit red, but soon, clear water flows from the faucet. Even better, it is lukewarm, rather than icy cold, which is what I expected it to be.

  “I could use you now, Deathdale,” I say as I strip down and get in the tub. How can I forget her ability to warm things with her hand?

  Wolf barks.

  “Don’t worry, buddy, this isn’t that type of tub session. And don’t think I’ve forgotten what she did to you. Now, sit!”

  He sits by the edge of the tub.

  “I didn’t think that would work,” I tell him as I look into his big, blue-green eyes. “Oh that’s right, you can understand me better since I upped your MIND attribute points. All right, try this one: roll over.”

  Wolf licks his lips and looks around, showing me that there really isn’t enough room for him to roll over, as I’ve requested.

  “Play dead? Nope, too soon,” I say as I scratch him behind his ear. He gives me the deadpan look I deserve. “Here’s the deal, I’m going to wash my hair, and then you’re getting in here with me.”

  Wolf barks and pulls away.

  “Shhhh, Sam is resting, and you’re getting a bath whether you like it or not.”

  (^_^)

  Bathing Wolf is always harder than it seems, the scratches and bite marks on my body evidence of my struggle.

  That said, the Tagvornin beast is clean. As he runs into the main bathroom shaking out the water in his fur, I realize that I don’t have a towel in my list, and there are no towels in the human-sized bathroom.

  So I improvise.

  My lavender cloak goes on and I strut into the main room, clean, wet, and ready to get some shuteye.

  And for the record, cuddling, snuggling or any “feel copping” has not crossed my mind. I really am tired, and while Sam Raid the Illusionist and I had a connection, Sam Raid the Hourglass Mage and I may not.

  Sam, who now rests on her elbows looking down from the bed, sees me and laughs.
“You are such an idiot.”

  “There were no towels, well, aside from giant-sized towels. I suppose I could have shimmied up there and rolled around on one of those towels. You know, you’d really be surprised how much this cloak has helped out. Sure, it’s not the best cloak one could buy, and it has absolutely no effect on my stats, but the color is apparently in season, or so I’ve been told.”

  “There is a male’s robe beneath the bed. It’s folded. Do you see it?”

  “I see it. No peeking.”

  I slip into the robe and climb up the ladder. Sam may look different than she looked a couple of hours ago, but the spark behind her eyes is still there, and it feels incredibly nice to be with her alone for the first time since she took her new avatar.

  She props herself up against the headboard and we talk for the next hour.

  I go into detail about what happened in Drachma, leaving out the part about Deathdale and me hooking up (I’m not that dense!). Sam tells me about eating pastries – apparently, she already has – and Lothar taking her to a facility with a giant magnifying glass so that he could read the Book of Time.

  Since Sam’s copy is thought to be the only one that exists, Lothar called on a few of his scholar friends to write down the history section of the book. They worked overnight while Sam slept, and they were respectful enough of the craft not to take down the extensive notes that annotate individual spells.

  They did, however, index the spells for future reference.

  “There will be another Hourglass Mage,” she says, finishing up her recap. “After my hourglass breaks.”

  She cups it in her hands and stares down at it.

  “I’m sorry, Sam,” I say, suddenly unable to look her in the eye.

  “It’s fine.” She places the hourglass next to her, and brings the blanket up over her necklace. “But let’s not be stupid anymore. We were given these avatars and our abilities for a reason. I enjoy Unigaea, and it’s much more my style than Tritania.”

  “There are other fantasy worlds too, besides Tritania. It’s not a binary option.”

  “I know, and I can readily visit any of them in my ship. But Unigaea is just … well, you know, you’re permalogged here. It’s something special.”

  “That it is.”

  Sam turns to me and smiles. “I’ll show you soon, maybe tomorrow night.”