The Last Warrior of Unigaea: A LitRPG Trilogy Page 10

  A flaming rock from the sky smashes into a statue of a magnificent horse. Hunks of granite spray into the air and in that moment, one of the archers fires a bolt at me.

  I drop to one knee, wheezing as I try to pull the bolt out of my ribcage, out of my …

  Fuck!

  Wolf cuts into the row of archers, even as the crossbow bolts tear into his hide. I’ve got my hands on the bolt, trying my damndest to pull it out of my lung and simultaneously wondering if that will do more damage than just leaving it in.

  A beam of pure light about three feet tall cuts between Wolf and me.

  I blink right to see that Deathdale has lifted her black eye patch, that the immaculate light is blasting out of her normally covered eye.

  She holds steady, her feet wide as the blazing yellow energy streams out of her, toasting anyone who stands before the incredible Solar Mage. With a snap of the patch back over her eye, she covers it and the light is suddenly gone.

  Wolf finishes mauling the last archer.

  I try to stand, but collapse again to my knee, each breath sending ripples of pain through my body. I lie on my side, watching the crimson sky overhead as more meteors soar into the city. The arrow jutting out of my rib cage seems to go deeper with each breath in.

  Deathdale now stands over me, Wolf on the other side making a cooing sound and licking my face.

  “Hospital,” I manage to say through bloodied lips. The closest city comes to the tip of my tongue. “Tangka.”

  Chapter Thirteen: Fetch

  Everything is a glittery blur, a flash of color, a scrape of reality. My surroundings bounce before me, the smell of blue melon continually pulling my spirit back to my body.

  Wolf.

  Our first encounter comes to me in a series of flashes.

  I had just taken my avatar, was still at level one, and I’d ventured into the Eastern Split Mountains alone. I wanted to see what had become of Ducat. I knew it was stupid, and I knew there were safer ways to go, but I wanted the challenge.

  I wanted revenge.

  My character sheet at the time was dismal.

  Oric Rune

  Class: Level 1 Player Killer

  Subclass: Level 1 Herbalist

  INFAMY: 0 Players killed

  HP: 271/271

  HP recovery rate: 2% per minute

  ATK: 41 +51

  DEF: 72 +9

  Attributes

  STRENGTH: 1

  WILL: 0

  DEXTERITY: 1

  MIND: 0

  SPEED: 1

  I knew there were bandits in the mountains, possibly Player Characters too, and I planned to hunt them.

  It was dark when I set off, creeping along the mountain paths and waiting for signs of other players and enemies. I was still getting used my class, to the fact that people shunned me and treated me like a criminal. I kept my reason for becoming a Player Killer to myself, bottled it up and never let it slip out.

  Things were easier that way.

  It was about two hours into my trek in the Eastern Split Mountains that I came across a black Tagvornin wolf with blue-green eyes. He stood in the pass in front of me, a dark ghost who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

  We locked eyes and I drew my Splintered Sword.

  “Easy,” I told the creature, keeping my blade at the ready.

  He snarled and dropped his head, the black hair on his neck standing at attention.

  “Easy,” I told the pony-sized wolf.

  We both just stood there, waiting for the other one to act, to make the first move. The moon was a spotlight to our epic standoff. A breeze whipping through the mountains carried with it the scent of berry bush. The sound of buzzing insects did little to break our singular concentration.

  I tensed, tightening my grip around the hilt of my Splintered Sword. I would only have one opportunity to kill him. Once he knocked me down, it would all be over. He’d come running, I’d try to finish the job right there.

  A new idea came to me as I awaited imminent death. With my sword still drawn, I scrolled through my inventory list behind my back, returned with a piece of jerky and tossed it to the ground between us.

  The Tagvornin wolf looked from the jerky to me and back to the jerky.

  His ears returned to their normal position and his shoulders relaxed a bit. He approached the jerky, sniffed it, and quickly ate it.

  “You want more?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I returned with more jerky and tossed it to him.

  I lowered my Splintered Sword.

  If Tagvornins can train these wolves, so can I.

  I took a piece in my hand and held it out to him. He came, sniffed it, and took it. I kept my hand out and after he finished eating, I placed it on his head.

  (^_^)

  The smell of antiseptic herbs meets my nose.

  I blink, moan, return my eyes to their pressed-shut position and again let my mind wander. I see Ducat, I see the families that moved there and prospered, I see the ocean, the sand along the coast, white and sprinkled with black seashells.

  I see Chicago, I see the Navy Pier, I see the fireworks, my real-life reflection in the Cloud Gate, the old graffiti at the 18th street station, the paletero man pushing his cart and ringing his bell, the skyline, the swelling throngs of people.

  My memories converge.

  I see a fisherman’s boat out at sea, hauling in the day’s catch, smoking a pipe, his skin bronze from the years he spent in the sun. I see the city center, the yearly harvest festival, the children running with their colorful kites, the lanterns at night floating out to sea. I hear the jazz music, I watch a man begging outside the Adams/Wabash Station, I see a bicyclist whip by with a Pomeranian in her basket.

  I hear the seagulls, long before I ever tried to eat them, the bells at the local temple that I helped build, brick by brick, the sounds of the merchants advertising their wares, a lullaby sung by a young mother carried on the breeze, the sound of a street sweeper, the hum of aeros above, the gleam from a skyscraper as the sun sets before it.

  I again stir, and the hospital room fades into focus.

  Where am I?

  I take a deep breath and I feel a strain at the front of my ribcage.

  “Where … ?”

  My finger comes up and the logout button appears.

  Do it.

  I could log out now; I could awake in the Proxima housing in Cicero. Humandroid nurses would come to my aid, help me out of the dive vat once I was ready, put me in rehabilitation and counsel me as I learn to use my body again, until I could once again function in society.

  I lower my hand just as a warm cloth is placed on my face.

  “Deathdale?”

  “Who?” a female voice asks.

  Warm water seeps into my eyes and instantly turns cold as it trickles down my face. I blink my eyes open again to see a nurse hovering over me. I gulp and glance around for my Splintered Sword.

  “My armor … my sword … ” I moan as I try to get out of the bed.

  “Relax. We’ve stowed it away for the time being.”

  “You’re ... Tagvornin?”

  Her features are different than the people of the southern continent. Her neck is longer, hair the color of coal. Her uniform is black, with a red collar and a single red button at the front of her neck. She nods and removes the cloth.

  I sense a presence to my left and I turn my head. An old woman lies in the bed next to me, the life gone from her body.

  “Sorry about her,” the nurse says. “We haven’t removed her yet.”

  I squint my eyes shut and open them again. I steady my gaze on the woman, trying to place where I’ve seen her before.

  It’s her.

  The old woman that wanted me to stay in Tangka, that wanted me to deliver a message to her daughter.

  The letter to her daughter is still in my pocket.

  “What happened … ?” I lift a shaky finger in the woman’s direction. I suddenly feel the urge to sob but I swallow it dow
n.

  Something is making me drowsy.

  The medicine.

  “Her?” The nurse smiles. “You’re a very, very lucky man. That’s what happened.”

  “What do … you mean?”

  “You nearly died of blood loss,” the Tagvornin nurse says. “This one offered you her blood to save your life.”

  “She gave her life … for me?”

  “She did, but she was an old crone anyway.”

  I try to glare at her but all I can muster is a cringe.

  “Enough chitchat; it’s time for your medicine.” She brings a small bowl of black liquid to my lips.

  As if on cue, Wolf enters into the single-story infirmary. His leg is bandaged, but other than that, he’s good to go. He isn’t normally allowed indoors, but he’s a Tagvornin wolf and for once, this fact plays to his advantage.

  “Is he yours?” she asks after forcing the poison down my throat.

  “What … what did you … give me?”

  “It’ll help you sleep, Player Killer. Get your rest; we need people like you.”

  I swallow hard. “Let me see … ” I glance to Wolf with my eyeballs, which is harder than it should be. “Wolf.”

  “Sure.”

  She steps aside and Wolf approaches. He places his head across my shoulder and chest, stares up at me with his big, blue-green eyes. He’s panting slightly, nervousness wrought across his furry face. I wait for her to cross to the other side of the room and whisper, “Bring me my sword.”

  Wolf turns back to the nurse, snarls, leaps onto her and brings her to the ground, killing her moments later.

  Chapter Fourteen: The Vulture Within

  I fall out of bed and crack my knee against the wooden floor. One glance over to the mangled nurse and I shudder. I’ve seen Wolf do worse, but it is still unsettling.

  Tangled up in blankets, I squirm my way out of the covers and painstakingly pull my upper body towards the door. I reach it, push myself up, open the door and spill out onto the street.

  “Easy!”

  Wolf leaps over me and turns back, allowing me to crawl on top of him. My legs aren’t strong enough to adequately squeeze his sides as I normally would, so I wrap my arms around his neck and hold tight as he runs as quickly as he can towards the brush outside Tangka.

  He heads west – damn smart dog – knowing full well that the meteor shower happened in the east, in Solidus.

  Still don’t know why rocks were falling from the sky. I’m sure I’ll figure it out sooner or later, but for now …

  “My … sword.”

  The nurse’s medicine slurs my words, dampens the reach of my voice. I try again and again to spit the words out. “Wolf … ”

  My sword.

  Everything flashes black, and then there’s color again.

  I try to bring up my stats but I’m too confused. Suddenly it feels as though I’m falling into a deep canyon, my arms flailing before me as I rocket towards the soil. The wind whips at my senses, a shattered euphoria ripples through me.

  I crash into the sand and it suddenly becomes water. Vultures tear from my chest, ripping huge chunks of flesh off my body. They loop up into the air and spiral back to me, covering me and fighting over the slivers of flesh they’ve stripped away from my chest.

  A great wave washes over us.

  I’m sinking to the bottom of an endless sea now, the dark water growing colder the deeper I go. Everything darkens and my pane of vision fractures. I try to use my limbs to press to the surface but it is too far, the light too dim, my direction unclear and my mind fuzzy.

  I blink my eyes open and see color again.

  Stars in the crimson sky beckon me forward.

  I try to lift my arm, to ascend to the heavens, but my muscles give way and my hand collapses.

  Everything whirls together as I spiral downwards, the outer edges of my body disintegrating as I free-fall.

  Help me! HELP ME!

  I want to cry out, I want to end the suffering, I want to log out.

  Light again and I feel something rise in my stomach. The poison pries free from my lips and I spit it out.

  LOG OUT!

  I suck in air and my lungs shriek in pain. I do it again, feeling my lungs inflate, feeling my life force come back into my body.

  The vultures swirl above.

  I lift my hand, shape it into a gun, and shoot them down.

  Instakill! Instakill! Instakill!

  I wish.

  Instalive!

  A joke.

  More air and I start to feel a bit lightheaded, as if my head were a swelling hot air balloon. A cold rain starts up, and I’m suddenly shivering.

  The wilderness is alive all around me.

  Chapter Fifteen: Revenge on Hold

  I awake, wet and cold.

  It’s almost noon, and a soft mist rests atop the foliage. The sky is still crimson and the smell of rain is strong; at least that was real from last night. I still find it hard to take a full breath in. With my fingers at the stitched-up wound on my ribcage, I breathe in slowly, noticing where the pain is coming from.

  I wince, breathe again.

  Breathe into the pain.

  It helps in some way. I keep up the slow, steady breaths until Wolf barks. He rushes over to me, licks my face.

  “Easy,” I cough, using what little strength I have to push him away. Something small and black blurs into focus.

  Wolf has caught a wild pig, a young one, a ten-pounder at least.

  “Good,” I tell him. I shut my eyes again, smelling the wet grass and the moist air. My nude avatar appears on the inside of my eyelids and with a single thought, I give it a spin. The scar on my ribcage flashes green, letting me know it’s new.

  My stats appear:

  Oric Rune

  Class: Level 8 Player Killer

  Subclass: Level 3 Herbalist

  INFAMY: 45 Players killed

  HP: 456/869

  HP recovery rate: 2% per minute

  ATK: 133

  DEF: 113 +30

  Attributes

  STRENGTH: 10

  WILL: 5

  DEXTERITY: 9

  MIND: 4

  SPEED: 5

  I have more health points than I expected, likely because my health isn’t as related as it should be to my overall energy and demeanor. Call it a flaw in the world, a poor decision on the Proxima Developers’ part, but that’s how it works. So I can be at half health and feel like I’ve been dragged through hell, twice.

  Go figure.

  After another few minutes to practice breathing again – which seems to be working, as I grow in strength with each breath – I pull up my inventory list to see what I still possess.

  All my weapons are gone, including my utensils. Well, at least the sharp ones. I still have my armor, oddly, and there’s still a portion missing over my ribs. I could equip the Tagvornin armor I have, but if I go back to Tangka, someone may recognize it.

  My spoon, cup, pot, pan, Wolf’s dog bowl as well as the rest of my cooking items and my fire-starting kit are still in my inventory list. A few other knickknacks too, such as the dwarven porn I picked up and my set of rune cards. I also have all the herbs I’ve collected.

  I could just eat them.

  Karuna seaweed (9)

  Mandrake flower (6)

  Magnolia pine cones (5)

  Yellow bonnet (1)

  Too bad I used my all my sunset root; otherwise, I could have crafted a healing potion. Not that it matters. I still have two potions.

  I throw one back.

  +200 HP!

  That should help some, and I’d be an idiot to try and eat any of this stuff by itself, especially the Mandrake flower, which is a known cause of IBS.

  I bring up my active quests. I failed the quest to get the governor and my next quest involved finding Czech’s loot, which was nonexistent. My still-active quest is to give the old woman’s letter to her daughter in Solidus, at least one of whom is dead.

>   My personal quest, not written as text on my vision pane, remains as it has since the beginning: level up to the point that I can take on the Drachma Killers to get revenge for their destruction of Ducat.

  But seeing Tangka on the brink and leaving it to follow my own foolish endeavors has really done something to me.

  My next thought stings – the old woman who never told me her name, an actual Player Character, gave her life to save mine. Even after I abandoned her and her city.

  “All you care about is revenge,” I whisper to myself as guilt washes over me. The old Oric would have done something; he would have saved her, fought back.

  Yeah right, I remember how things ended last time. The old Oric would have run, the old Oric was a coward. But the new Oric …

  The new Oric has the power to do something.

  And at this notion, at this simple statement in my head, my personal quest for vengeance is placed on the backburner for the time being. I will drive the Tagvornins out of Tangka, and I will rebuild the city in a way that I never could with Ducat.

  “I will save Tangka.”

  Quest update!

  You have decided to drive the Tagvornins out of Tangka. Ride to the city and see if you can retrieve your weapons.

  Risks: You will be captured.

  Rewards: You will retrieve your sword.

  I glance back at the pig.

  “How the hell am I supposed to cook that thing up?” I ask Wolf. He yawns, snaps his teeth at a passing butterfly and from there, starts sniffing the ground, walking in the opposite direction until he decides to take a piss.

  “I don’t know if you’re trying to tell me something or not,” I call over to him, “but I’m going to take it as a sign to roast this little piggy.”

  The next three hours are spent building a fire, slowly moving rocks into place to hold the pig over it, and proceeding to roast the little porker. While it roasts, I find a sharp rock and begin whittling the end into a crude yet semi-sharp point.

  Once the pig is good and ready, I use the sharpened rock to pull pieces of its flesh away.

  It’s not the best meal I’ve ever had, and it’s not really even a good meal, but it works, and after I get the easy-to-cut pieces and Wolf eats what he’s going to eat, we leave the rest for whatever finds it first.