The Last Warrior of Unigaea: A LitRPG Trilogy

by Harmon Cooper

  We scissor through the night, the wind whipping around us as we blaze down rocky path after rocky path. Hard to imagine we came this far earlier, I was so annoyed with Czech’s bullshit. Deathdale breathes softly, her stomach moving up and down beneath the tight grip of my fingers. Her hair smells like blue melon seeds, a fragrance popular in Metica.

  Even in our fleeing state, the scent brings me back to Ducat. Blue melons imported from the Pesata Islands were one of the main items traded in the city I founded.

  I inhale her shampoo – or maybe it’s a cream – briefly reliving the memory of a simpler time, a time in which I wasn’t hated, hunted, scorned everywhere I stepped foot.

  I catch the outline of Czech Meyout ahead. He’s slightly out of breath but recovering quickly. The dirt bag keeps his crossbow trained on me as I approach.

  “Did you see that?” He pumps his fist in the air. “We got all of them! Ha! Those fuckers!”

  “Slow,” I tell Wolf. He lowers to the ground and I gently push Deathdale forward, so she’s still on Wolf’s body.

  “What the hell happened to her?” Czech asks as I step towards him.

  “You’ve cost us the bounty!” I shout, my fists clenched at my side.

  “Stay where you are, Player Killer!” He aims his crossbow pistol right at my face.

  I narrow my eyes on him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  “Not so tough now, are you?” He snorts. “You’re fucked now! Ha! Look at you! You fucking piece of shit Conan the Barbarian wannabe bitch! Ha!”

  “I wasn’t going to attack you,” I tell him as I slowly raise my hands. “But you did cost us our bounty – all of it.”

  “Pfft! It’s just lira. Hell, I have enough for you and me, the mage bitch too.” He nods towards Deathdale.

  “If that’s the case,” I grit, “why don’t we go and get it?”

  “And raft down to Tangka tonight?” He considers this for a moment and laughs. “You’re stupider than you look.”

  I make a quick mental note of what he’s just said. Tangka, on the southern coast.

  “Well?” I ask him.

  “Nah, that’s not how this is going to play out. Your shit is mine. I want you to empty everything in your inventory list.” He points his crossbow pistol from my head to the ground. “Now! Once you get your shit out, I want you to search her. Or maybe I’ll kill you, kill her, and keep her dead body to myself.” He licks his lips. “Whooo! This is fucking great! I live for this shit!”

  My ears prick as I hear the sound of galloping horses. My heart beats a little faster as I consider my options. The horses are closing in; I’ve got a crossbow pistol aimed at my head, and …

  A flash of Solar Mage magic strikes Czechs hand and he instinctively squeezes the trigger.

  My vision pane flashes; I ignore the pain as I advance towards him, knowing I won’t have an opening for long. My blade cuts right through Czech’s chainmail tank top with one powerful thrust. I twist the blade as soon as it’s inside, stirring up his organs.

  -386 HP! Critical hit!

  He cries out as I lower him to the ground. I keep my sword in his gut for a moment, glance down at his crossbow bolt sticking out of my shoulder, and yank it out.

  I wince, the pain radiating through my body.

  Hospital, I mentally remind myself, knowing that a healing potion won’t help this type of wound.

  “You fucker … ” Czech sobs. “You stabbed me!”

  The sound of galloping horses amplifies. I look back to Wolf and Deathdale, who is slouched over but finally conscious. “Let’s get to the raft.”

  “You can’t just leave me here!” Czech shouts.

  “Yes, yes we can. One more thing.” I approach him and step on his hand, just as he’s reaching out for his crossbow pistol. “I’ll take that.”

  Weapon: Crossbow Pistol

  Grade: B

  Weight: light

  Attack: +40

  Speed: +15

  After I check the weapon’s stats, a quest alert pops up.

  Quest alert!

  Czech Meyout mentioned he has a small fortune somewhere in the town of Tangka on the southern coast.

  Risks: Unknown.

  Rewards: Unknown.

  Would you like to visit Tangka and try to uncover his fortune?

  [Yes or No]

  (^_^)

  I wince as I push the raft away from the shore. My arm is killing me, and I’m just about as lucky as can be that Czech’s botched shot caught me in my right shoulder and not my left.

  I’m a southpaw, which is one of the things I’ve kept from my life in the real world.

  One of the only things …

  “Quiet, Wolf,” I say as he starts whining and yipping. He’s in the center of the raft again, his head tucked between his two front paws. Deathdale lies on her side next to him, still trying to recover from her mana expenditure.

  We’re only about a hundred feet away from the coast when I hear Czech scream like a sissy. The city guards have found him, and there are a number of ways they could go about torturing and eventually killing him.

  This is another thing that makes Unigaea unique among other Proxima worlds – a player cannot log out if they’ve received a mortal wound, like the stomach wound I gave Czech.

  I could have gotten another infamy point for finishing the job myself, but there are some things better left to the authorities. Hopefully they’ll go with the Judas Cradle.

  Speaking of which, I pull up my stat sheet to quickly toss the point in DEX.

  Attributes

  STRENGTH: 10

  WILL: 5

  DEXTERITY: 8

  MIND: 4

  SPEED: 5

  Still need to put something in MIND, I think as I move further away from the Unigaean coastline.

  Since I know better than to show my face in Tin Ingot for the next good while, I tilt the raft towards Karuna Island. I’ve had worse wounds than the one currently on my shoulder, and I should be able to make it through the night with a health potion to tide me over.

  That settles it.

  I’ll set up camp on the eastern side of the Farthing Mountains, let Deathdale rest, and head into Mohar in the morning to see to my wound.

  I take one of the healing potions from my list and guzzle it down.

  It has a cherry flavor, and some players – especially goblins, for some bizarre reason – are addicted to the stuff. To me, the healing potions in Unigaea have a bitter, medicinal finish that reminds me of cough syrup. I’m happy to get it down, keep it down, and let it at least tide my wound over until morning.

  I place my hand on my newest wound. I’m not about to put my finger in it, but I can tell it’s pretty deep, at least two inches in. It’s still bleeding, but the healing potion will help stop that once I digest it.

  I glance to Wolf, who is still cowering with his head tucked between his paws. From there, I look at Deathdale, who seems perfectly at ease as she lies on her side.

  The water swells and a wave nearly capsizes the raft.

  Another big wave hits us and Wolf yelps. There’s something ominous about the frothy waves, and I’m just about to keep paddling when I notice something peculiar about the night sky.

  It is no longer black.

  It is now illuminated, crimson even, the same color as the moon. I feel a sudden compression in my chest and I drop to one knee. Another wave comes and nearly knocks our raft over. Water sprays into my face, the salt stinging my eyes.

  I stand, wipe my eyes, and fight back against the current as I steer us towards Karuna Island. Wolf continues to whimper and I ignore him, so focused I am on keeping us steady.

  What’s happening up north? I wonder as my eyes take in the ominous crimson reflection of the night sky in the agitated waters. Whatever it is, it seems to be moving towards us.

  Chapter Nine: Armor up and Bail Out

  Damn the wound on my arm. As soon as I see the shore of Karuna Island, I bring the raft near
and hop out into the water, gripping the rope tightly. The water is bitterly cold, the sand beneath soft, and I’m happy the water only comes up to my knees.

  With my wounded shoulder, it’s incredibly painful to drag the raft close enough to the shore for Wolf to disembark. He does so eventually, and runs as far away from the shoreline as he can once he’s on solid ground.

  “At least find us some dinner!” I call out to him.

  With a loud grunt, I bring the raft ashore and leave Deathdale on it. She’ll be fine, and I’d better do something about my arm if I don’t want infection to spread.

  I search for a moment and find a few pieces of dry driftwood. A frigid breeze kicks up and I again marvel at the crimson color of the sky. It is otherworldly, beautiful – if not for the fact that the color signals something major has happened. Whatever it is, it happened in the Rune Lands, several days’ ride from the southern part of Unigaea.

  I pile up the driftwood and equip my fire-starter kit. Soon, the fire is crackling, my hands warm, and I’m finally able to take a breather. After a few minutes, I kick my boots off and warm my wet feet and legs. This helps. Wolf moseys over to the fire and lies near it.

  “Dinner?” I ask him.

  He yawns and turns his head away from me.

  I return to the raft, lift Deathdale over my good shoulder and bring her to the fire. I place the Solar Mage far enough away from the flames that she won’t be too hot.

  I check to see what herbs I have in my inventory list:

  Karuna seaweed (11)

  Mandrake flower (6)

  Magnolia pine cones (5)

  Sunset root (1)

  Yellow bonnet (4)

  Something tells me mixing my sunset root with a yellow bonnet and two parts Karuna seaweed will make a healing paste. I don’t know what this “something” is, but being alone most of the time has made me accustomed to listening to the voices in my head.

  They’re usually right.

  I equip my herb pot and a glass bottle that I filled with mountain stream water earlier in the day. I add a little water to the pot and toss in the seaweed. After placing it over the fire, I let it simmer while I use one of my throwing knives to strip the outer bark from the sunset root.

  Once the seaweed water is boiling, I add the bark and let it stew for fifteen minutes.

  Wolf makes a whining sound and I laugh. “Yeah, it smells terrible, but it’ll have to do. Just one more touch.”

  I add the yellow bonnet flowers and let everything cook for about fifteen more minutes. As it cooks, I lie back and stare at the red sky. Damn if something funny isn’t happening somewhere on the mainland, but there’s nothing I can do about it right now, especially in my current state.

  Plans for tomorrow come and I sort them out.

  I’ll need to visit a hospital, and the cheapest one is in Mohar, a coastal city that has been etched into the rock face on the southwestern region of Unigaea. Once I’m better, I’ll need to get to Tangka to see about Czech Meyout’s loot.

  I glance over to Deathdale. Should I let her in on the possible bonus?

  I decide to wait until morning, once she’s awake, to make my decision. If she plays nice, I’ll play nice.

  A quick scroll through my inventory list and I stop on my pestle and mortar. I place it on the ground and pour the hot contents from my herb pot into the mortar, being sure to drain off any excess water. From there, I start mushing down the ingredients, again draining any excess water off the top. Once it is a thick paste, I spread the mixture on my arrow wound.

  New medicine learned!

  Wound ointment will allow you to stave off infection until you get to a hospital. Upgrade your herbalist subclass by attending botanical courses or seeking a mentor to improve the healing capabilities of your ointment.

  I continue to rub the mixture on my arrow wound. It’s warm, which feels nice, and I’ve grown used to the smell now, hardly noticing its pungent odor.

  I wrap my arm in a bit of clean cloth and once I’ve finished, I scoot over to Wolf and lay my back against the side of his body, my feet aimed at the fire.

  (^_^)

  Wolf wakes me several hours later. The morning sun sits on the horizon, the sky still a foreboding shade of crimson. Dark clouds overhead signal rain and the smell of the nearby sea wafts into my nostrils.

  “Easy Wolf,” I tell the dog as he licks my face. My health has dropped by nearly three hundred points, reminding me yet again that I need to get to a hospital.

  I roll onto my side and look over to the place Deathdale was laying.

  The Solar Mage is gone, and any sign of her movements are also nil. There are no heel marks in the sand, nothing to indicate she was ever here. Hell, the raft is even still there.

  I rub my eyes again just to be sure. She probably logged out, and will respawn wherever it is a Solar Mage respawns.

  “Where did she go?” I ask the big Tagvornin canine.

  He locks his blue-green eyes on me and raises his eyebrows, as if to say “your guess is as good as mine.” I place my hand on his snout and notice there is a little blood on his lips.

  “Damn, Wolf, what’d you get into?”

  He pants, his lips pulling up into a grin. A quick look around and I find a fat seagull a yard or so away, its neck bloody.

  “How the hell did you get that?” I laugh. “Damn!”

  He walks over to it, nudges it with his nose, and I get the hint. “All right, you’ll get your share in a moment.”

  The seagull is about two times larger than any I’ve ever seen and for the life of me, I can’t imagine how Wolf managed to catch it. It doesn’t seem like it was dead before he got to it. And I don’t see the big, black wolf sneaking up on a seagull.

  “You’re something else,” I tell him as I admire his handiwork.

  I quickly collect more driftwood and after a rough start, I get the fire going. With my cooking skill at level two, this should be fairly easy. I equip my knife and cutting board and get to work on the bird. I grab the seagull and cut the artery below its beakline, drain as much of the blood out as I can, and set the seagull on the cutting board.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I tell Wolf as I walk over to the shore, equip my pot, and scoop up some water. It’s salt water, which will add a little flavor to the bird. I bring the pot over to the fire, let it boil, dip the seagull’s body in, and once it has boiled for a moment, I dump out the boiling water and return to the ocean.

  I keep my hand on the seagull’s neck as I let cool water run over its feathers, which will make it easier to pluck. Once I’ve plucked the big bird, I cut its head off, gut it, slice the feet off, and throw everything I’m not going to eat to Wolf, who readily chows down.

  “Breakfast is almost ready!” I say to no one in particular. It’s something my mom used to say before sending me off to school, something I’ll never forget.

  I equip my skillet and my glass bottle of oil and fry up the breasts, legs, and thighs. As they sizzle, I add a bit of Tritanian lemon-pepper dragon-wing seasoning, which I picked up from a seller in Tin Ingot who specializes in items from other Proxima fantasy worlds. It’s spicy, good, and too much of it will give you the runs.

  The notion of another Proxima fantasy world gets me thinking about the Proxima Company, the hundreds of online digital dreamworlds it has created in the Proxima Galaxy, and how I have chosen to live in one semi-permanently.

  It is strange to think that, aside from the real world, there are literally hundreds of other places in the online Proxima Galaxy I could choose – that anyone could choose to live out their lives.

  Yet here I am, here I’ve been, and here I’ll stay.

  Wolf barks and wags his tail. “Easy,” I say as I catch him eyeing the fried seagull. “You already got yours.”

  He barks again in a whiny way and I laugh.

  “Just playing with you, Wolf.”

  I finish cooking the seagull and toss both thighs to him. He, well, wolfs them down and c
runches the bone all of ten seconds before swallowing them. I go for one of the breasts, which is stringier than chicken yet juicy too, like a well-cooked turkey.

  All that time in the sea …

  I eat while staring at the raft, and once I’m finished, I inventory the other two legs and breast for later.

  “Two more rides on the raft today,” I tell Wolf and instantly his ears flit back at the thought of water. “First to Mohar, and after that to Tangka to see about Czech’s hidden stash.”

  (^_^)

  Once Wolf is secure on the center of the raft, the damn sissy, I push off from the shore.

  It shouldn’t be a very long ride down to Tin Ingot, but without a mast, I’ll have to do most of the steering. Luckily, the wind is in our favor, and it is smooth sailing for most of the hour-long journey, which I’m thankful for given my shoulder.

  As I paddle, I keep an eye on the blood-red sky overhead.

  The only thing I can think of is that the Rune Lands are preparing for war, which I’ve seen them do before. Still, the sky was never like this then. From there, my thoughts drift back to Deathdale and some of the magic she used last night.

  I’ve encountered powerful magic wielders in Unigaea, everything from mages to warlocks, necromancers to war priests. Even at level 10, Deathdale would have given many of them a run for their lira. I get the feeling there is more to her ability, and I imagine at a higher level she would be able to spontaneously combust someone.

  The image of her instantly setting everyone and everything before her on fire comes to me.

  That’s power.

  Wolf barks and lowers his head back into the space between his paws.

  “Good,” I tell him as I watch a small cutter approach.

  The cutter is having a hard time going the opposite direction against the wind, but the captain of the ship, a square-jawed man with a long ponytail, is doing his best to rally his small crew. They busy themselves around the craft, paying little attention to us as we pass.

  We shouldn’t be far from Mohar now.