Author: Harmon Cooper
Date: 2017-12-13 05:00:00+00:00
Description: The third and final installment in the Last Warrior of Unigaea Trilogy! Following his massive personal loss in the second book, Oric Rune reaches the city of Tael to join Lothar and Sam Raid. Battered and bruised, but not yet ready to give up on his quest to save Unigaea, Oric and company set off for Tagvornin to address the Red Plague. With a newfound mission, and time running out as the Red Plague continues to spread, the moment for Oric to make his mark on Unigaea is now. But will he be able to? And is it even possible? The third and final installment in the Last Warrior of Unigaea Trilogy!
Publisher: Boycott Books, LLC

The Last Warrior of Unigaea:

(Book Three)

The Red Plague

By Harmon Cooper

Copyright © 2017 by Harmon Cooper

Copyright © 2017 Boycott Books

Cover by MIBL Art Studios

Setting by Dan at covermint.design

Edited by Andi Marlowe (www.andromedaediting.com)

Audiobook narrated by Jeff Hays and Annie Ellicott (www.jeffhaysnarrates.com)

Read by you

www.harmoncooper.com
writer.harmoncooper@gmail.com

Twitter: @_HarmonCooper

All rights reserved. All rights preserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

JOIN THE PROXIMA GALAXY

Reader,

Before you begin, you should know that most of my series are connected through the “Proxima Galaxy,” which is the name for the online galaxy in which works such as The Feedback Loop series, the Fantasy Online series, and The Last Warrior of Unigaea trilogy take place.

You can join the Proxima Galaxy on Facebook here, or by clicking the image below.

The group gets exclusive content, early previews of new works, FREE advanced copies, free audiobooks, and eventually, we will work on a wiki that shows just how intertwined all these series are.

-Harmon Cooper

Table of Contents

JOIN THE PROXIMA GALAXY

Table of Contents

Map of Unigaea

Chapter One: Existence Check

Chapter Two: The Masking Hat

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

Chapter Four: Insta-level

Chapter Five: Jagraj the Giant Slayer

Chapter Six: Gorgefest

Chapter Seven: The First Artifact

Chapter Eight: Warp Rider

Chapter Nine: Tea-scapades

Chapter Ten: Skeletal Wolves and the Necromancer that Loves Them

Chapter Eleven: A New Page in the Book of Time

Chapter Twelve: An Orc Pisses Himself and Thus Begins a Preemptive Strike

Chapter Thirteen: Breaking Broken

Chapter Fourteen: Lost in the Periphery

Chapter Fifteen: My Digital Raison D'être

Chapter Sixteen: Tagvornin Erectile Dysfunction and Taelian Socialism

Chapter Seventeen: Mistaken Identity

Chapter Eighteen: Shattering the Game-time Continuum

Chapter Nineteen: Predestined Randomness

Back of the Book Shit

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Map of Unigaea

Click picture to enlarge

“The mystery that is Unigaea is in a constant state of unravel, even if it is ultimately the result of an advanced algorithm played like a finely tuned harp by the Obelisk.”

–Lothar Shane, the scholarly giant of Tael

Chapter One: Existence Check

My feet are weighted. Wolf’s body is heavy. The snow swirling around me is cold. The blood running through me is warm, charged. The city of Drachma burns in the distance, its sparks still visible from a mile out.

The city will never be the same, nor will I.

My vision pane is still flashing, my rage ability somehow still working. I should have passed out long ago, I should have fallen at the city gates, arrested, imprisoned, tortured, tried, hanged.

My breath is visible before me, proof I’m still alive.

A terrible image comes. The Solar Mage standing on the balcony awash with color, burning from the inside. Deathdale disintegrating is still fresh on my mind.

It was her choice, she brought this upon herself.

“Deathdale,” I exhale her name, my breath a cloud of steamy smoke. “You killed Wolf,” I say bitterly, another sob coming on as my vision pane flashes red and white.

I fall to one knee, adjust Wolf’s dead body over my shoulders again and take another step forward.

Press onward.

On wolfback, getting to Tael would take me two days tops. In my current state, it’s going to be longer, colder too.

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 the 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.

What I wouldn’t give to head south rather than north and see to Governor Florin Talonas, the man responsible for killing Sam’s first avatar, the fucker responsible for ordering the attack on the hotel room I shared with Deathdale.

The irony of it all is that he has come for me two times now, either in almost-coitus or post-coitus, which is odd. It’s like he’s watching my feed or something, waiting for me to score.

But no one can watch my feed. No one watches anyone’s feed in Unigaea.

This is yet another thing that is prevented in this world, livestreaming, which is great because it keeps TwitchTube Red stars and their legions of shitty fan boys and girls in other Proxima worlds.

Why would anyone attack Unigaea, Oric?

You mean the source code bomb?

Yes. How was it unleashed? Who would do such a thing?

I consider this for a moment as I haul Wolf’s body up a hill. I’ve gnawed through half of my Jatla root and I’m definitely starting to have the shakes. Still, it has lit a much needed fire under my ass.

A fork in the road ahead has a sign pointing towards Metica, another pointing towards Tael. Seeing the sign pointing to Metica reminds me of the battle waged in their arena just two days prior.

How I was able to convince a well armored city guard named Desdemona to take over after Sam killed the Metican leader is beyond me.

Talk about a diplomacy check.

Oric, the question at hand: Why would anyone attack Unigaea?

I bite my lip as I reach a top of a hill and pause for a moment. I still can’t decide if the Obelisk is speaking to me through my thoughts, or if my endless mind chatter can be traced back to the attribute points I chucked into MIND.

“But it is a good question,” I say aloud. “Why would anyone want to destroy Unigaea?”

Could it have been the Proxima Company?

“I doubt it,” I tell the voice in my head. “Once a Proxima world is set up with a good NVA Seed capable of generating a myriad of ideas, like the Obelisk, it doesn’t take much to keep the lights on aside from server space.”

Server?

“So it is you, Obelisk?”

Silence this time.

I continue down the hill. The afternoon sun has increased the temperature, but this side of the hill is awash in shadows, leaving the snowdrifts intact.

My nose twitches at the smell of smoke. There’s a fire in the vicinity, but I’d rather not investigate.

Instead, I chew a bit more Jatla root, feeling a twitchy wave move through me. I spit, hoping to get the bittersweet taste out of my mouth. I hate using handicaps, but if there is one advantage of living in a fantasy world, it’s the usage of things such as the map on my dashboard, or the red outline that appears around enemies when I’m stalking them.

I suppose the world up there has its handicaps now.

Because of GoogleFace maps and its integration with life chips, there is literally no way to get lost in the real world. Depending on how you set your iNet dashboard, which plays out on a person’s eyelids, you can view a number of things: from the nutritional facts of the food you are about to stuff in your face to another person’s public details, the accessible data is endless, even with the growth of quantum encryption.

The 21st century is the century in which real life became a video game. Everything can now be gamified thanks to the apps invented in the early 2000s. There is no information, unless classified, that isn’t readily available. Hell, many things, such as food, actually appear as stats!

I smirk at this thought: the real world is nothing more than an elaborate MMORPG.

Choose a career, choose a family, however the fuck that quote goes – everything is an attempt to level up. Those on the top can level up through power grabs or world building; those at the bottom level up by saving their universal basic income. If they’re lucky, they’ll figure out some way to make a little extra cash in the post Ubertopia that is the US economy.

“Everything is a fucking game,” I say bitterly as I press forward.

Where you are born, the color of your skin, the assets you are born with, and the time period will all determine the game you wind up playing. What strikes me as odd is why people of the late 20th century got so into role playing games when they were in fact living a role playing game.

Meta as fuck.

“The Obelisk definitely didn’t say that.”

We are the meta babies of a world based upon winning, be it war or the long game of cushioning an IRA. Everything is an RPG, everything is a game that must be won. Everything has been gamified to increase retention, to advertise, to force competition where competition isn’t necessary, to prove one’s self-worth.

Level up, level up, fuck you, fuck me, level up!

Play your role well, and reap the rewards. You’re the next contestant on the game called life!

+10 Cunning! +$5,000! +1 Child! +1 War Victory! +1 Sexual Encounter!

Play it poorly or find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it’s game over.

-2 Years Prison! -1 Boyfriend! -10 Mass shooting of the week! -1 Lifelong dream!

My RPG life up there is no different than my RPG life in Unigaea: predestined randomness.

Then why do you choose to stay here, Oric? Why, if life up there is a game that everyone plays, are you here? Why not just play the game up there?

I spit the Jatla root out, toxic thoughts zipping around my skull cavity like cracked out hummingbirds. Vomit turns in my stomach and I drop the cart, get on my knees and let it all go.

Why, if life up there is simply an RPG, do you stay here?

I grin before the answer can leave my trembling lips. “Because I can’t run around with a broken ass sword up there riding a giant wolf and fighting motherfuckers.”

You’re an idiot, Eric!

Is that really the reason, Oric?

“I don’t know, Obelisk, I really don’t know,” I say as the grin fades. “I guess here is just … just different than what I’m used to. Escapism, even if I’m simply escaping to a mirrored existence. Escapism. Yeah, that’s it. Why game up there when you can game in here? If you could log into my world somehow, I’m sure you’d be doing the same shit as me.”

Riding a wolf and fighting motherfuckers with a broken ass sword?

“Yes, something like that.”

(^_^)

I find a babbling brook and drink from it.

The Jatla root is rotting my brain; I’m sick of thoughts polluting my skull. Sure, everything is a fucking RPG, but that doesn’t mean I should continue to unravel that existential ball of yarn just to see how long the thread is.

I return to the cart, focus on my footsteps, and eventually come upon a public campsite with a blazing fire.

Convenient.

Still, it would be much more convenient if the Obelisk had been there last night.

Food is roasting over the abandoned fire, three plump rabbits. Each bite calms the chatter in my mind and the empty feeling in my gut.

My crazy thoughts dissipate at about the time a swirl of snow enters into the equation.

The snow picks up, and with my lavender cloak on, I press forward into the wintery abyss. I have the energy to do it, the Jatla root is still in my system. If push comes to shove, I can rage to increase my speed.

Good idea.

I lift up the cart, Wolf in the back, and focus my thoughts.

Rage.

A tingling sensation spreads across the front of my chest. I’m sure the scar given to me by the Obelisk is glowing blue now, but there’s no way to tell with my armor on.

RAGE!

My vision pane constricts and expands. Each breath inflates my lungs to their breaking point.

I physically feel myself get heavier as my muscles increase in density. One foot in front of the other, I start trotting along the road to Tael, my surroundings a blur, the trail beneath my feet my only guiding point.

Thoughts come but I ignore them.

A voice whisper-screams at the back of my head. Get to Tael!

I move even faster than before.

I can feel every part of my body now, from the digital oxygen as it moves into my bloodstream to each individual toe, shielded by my sea dragon boots, the balls of my foot pressing off the ground, the veins on my arms bulging as I push the yoke forward like some sort of workhorse.

A swelling wave of emotion comes over me as I remember Wolf, as I recall our first encounter in the Eastern Splits.

You could have killed me.

I let the tears come and don’t wipe them away.

I should have saved you.

As the night progresses, the temperature decreases. An inner warmth fueled by an odd mix of hope and remorse carries me forward.

(^_^)

The city of giants is visible in the distance. The morning sun as just peaked over the horizon, its light reflecting off patches of ice in shallow formations created by the roots of the Taelian oaks, which line the four-lane road.

I can’t fluidly recall anything that has happened over the last eight hours, a time in which I was more machine than man, my only goal to reach the city by morning.

Exhaustion came several times, but every time it did, I’d find something to eat, be it random ash berries or a sack of discarded jerky I found along the road. The Obelisk is clearly my Deus Ex Machina at the moment, but I don’t believe for a moment that this is simply a selfless act, nor do I think it is something that will last.

She has tasked me with seeing to the Red Plague, the source code bomb, and I believe that’s the only thing keeping me in her favor.

“Thanks for taking pity on me,” I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster considering my utter exhaustion.

I drop the cart once I see two roadside benches, one for commoners and the other for giants. From what I’ve been able to gather, and from having visited Tael once as mayor of Ducat, the giants are very conscious of public space, its necessity and its proper usage.

Maybe they have bigger brains than other NPCs.

I shrug at this thought as I take a seat.

All I know about Taelian giants is that they can only be played by NPCs. Reborn Player Characters and PCs like me aren’t allowed to take the role of giant, which is too bad, because I think it’d be fun to be a giant.

Fee-fi-fo-fum …

I lie back on the bench, my nerves on fire from the eight hours of straight travel.

A Player Killer in a lavender cloak with a hat over his chest? Surely this won’t attract attention.

Just in case, I unsheathe my Splintered Sword and keep it at my side, my hand on its grip. Sleep comes and I readily give in, the last image I see in my mind’s eye that of Sam Raid, back when she was an illusionist and the leader of the Tangka Militia.

What a badass, I think as I see her go to war with her giant golden lance.

“You really are something, Sam.”

Chapter Four: Insta-level

“Ahem, excuse me, sir, it is against Taelian law to sleep on a bench within the city limits.”

I stir and my heart rises in my chest as I see a giant female in light armor standing before me.  Unlike Deathdale, the female giant’s armor means business. Head-to-toe steel and a chainmail coif would make it hard to get a hit off her, and that’s if you were her size.

[Taelian Guard, Level 5]

Doesn’t matter the level, I think to myself as I sit up.

“If you prefer, I can escort you to our homeless shelter.” The female giant has a single dimple; freckles of varying size span the bridge of her nose. She smiles, lifting the sides of her close-cut chainmail coif. She’s cute.

“Actually, I’m not homeless.” I think about this for a minute. “Well, I guess I am homeless, technically, because I burned my home down a few days back. Long story. I apologize for the monologue; I’ve been carrying on a conversation with myself for two days straight. Or was it a day and a half? I’m not a hobo, per se.”

One of her eyebrows rises.

I wave away her concern. “Sorry, I’m here looking for someone. You don’t happen to know a giant named Lothar Shane, do you?”

The female guard’s smile fades. “Yes. I was … ”

She hesitates.

“You were what?”

“His girlfriend. My name’s Gadsaa Malin.”

Oh shit, Lothar’s ex.

I clear my throat. “Hi, Gadsaa, Oric Rune.”

In that instant, I recall the encounter that triggered my relationship with Lothar. He was sitting by the side of the road when I first met him, trying to come to grips with a breakup letter. “So, um, you don’t happen to know where he’s at, do you?”

“He’s probably at his home.”

“Any chance you could take me there? I find parts of Tael difficult to navigate.”

“As you wish.” She turns, her armor clanking with each step. I’m surprised I didn’t hear her approach, but after traveling all night hyped up on rage and Jatla root, I’m also surprised I don’t have a head-splitting hangover.

“You don’t have to stop by and say anything to him. Just point at his place.” Once my handle-masking hat is in place, I grab the yoke of the merchant’s cart. Wolf feels heavier than he felt yesterday, maybe because my energy is shot.

“Oh, I’ll say something all right.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” I say under my breath.

It takes Lothar’s ex and me a few minutes to reach the Taelian city gates, the tops of which are covered in frost. There is no wall walk; about the only thing that can get over the gate would be a griffin or a dragon, and the likelihood of someone attacking the city is close to nil.

While the Taelian giants may not get along with Metica – and with new leadership in the female warrior city, who knows how this will change – Taelian giants haven’t gone to war for eons. Not many are stupid enough to attack a group of people five times their size, which is one reason the giants have turned to scholarly pursuits.

One would have to be mighty stupid to attack these people, I think as the gate opens and we move onto a wide lane shared by giants and common folk alike. The giants are careful with their big steps, thoughtful even, and this has led to some aggressive cart-driving from a group of merchants dragging a giant boar’s carcass with a team of horses.

“Damn, where’d you guys get that?” I ask the merchant at the front of a team of horses.

“Fuck you, Lavender, that’s a trade secret!”

“Language,” Gadsaa calls down to the vulgar merchant. “Cursing is not permitted within the city limits.”

“Like fuck it isn’t!”

Gadsaa calmly stops and turns to the merchant. All it would take is a quick kick; the merchant would go flying through the apothecary.

He changes his tune almost immediately as he apologizes profusely. He gets to a knee, bows his head, offers her sweet nothings in the form of hearty praise, and doffs his hat multiple times.

As soon as we’re past him, I turn back to him, lock eyes and remove my own hat, so he can get a glimpse of my handle. His face goes white and he slows his horses, putting a comfortable distance between us.

“It’s here,” Gadsaa says a few minutes later.

We stand now in front a humble, one-story home with an additional room in the backyard, a guesthouse of sorts. Lothar’s home is crafted from Taelian hardwood and the rooftop is round, like a dome over a stadium.

A quick look around and I see many of the homes in this area have the same domed roof, which differs from the shops and governmental establishments at the entrance to the city.

“I’ll knock.”

“By all means,” I tell Lothar’s ex.

She knocks and we hear some scrambling on the other side of the door. “Coming, just … just a moment!”

It takes Lothar two or three minutes to finally answer the door, his red hair a mess and his blue scholar’s robes wrinkled.

He takes one look at Gadsaa and gulps.

“Um … ” Lothar brandishes his pair of oval glasses, cleans them on the front of his robe, and clears his throat. “Please, Gadsaa, come in.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she says bitterly.

“Hey buddy, she ain’t the only one here!” I wave my hands up at him.

“Oric!” Lothar’s half-frown tips upwards into a smile. “I was wondering when you’d come! Where’s Wolf?”

“In the cart.”

“You’ve covered him?”

“Fuck, Lothar, just tell me where Sam is.”

“Language,” Gadsaa reminds me. “You heard me correct the merchant back there, did you not? That same rule applies to you.”

“Sam is in the guesthouse out back,” Lothar says. “But really, what happened?”

“It is a long, terrible story. I need to see Sam, now.”

(^_^)

Giant doors are constructed with multiple users in mind. The doors feature a small door at the bottom rail for commoners, while the greater door is for giant usage. Normally, I’d go through the smaller door, but with Lothar and Gadsaa behind me, and the fact I’m carting Wolf’s body, I choose to wait for him to open the larger door.

“Really, Gadsaa,” Lothar says sheepishly, “you don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to.”

“I want to see who it is that’s staying in your guesthouse,” she says, a tinge of jealousy in her voice.

“Her name is Sam Raid, she’s an Hourglass Mage and she’s a commoner.”

“A giant can date a commoner.”

“We’re not dating.”

“Stop bickering,” I call up to the two former lovebirds as we finish circling around Lothar’s home to the guesthouse.

I try, for a brief moment, to imagine a giant fucking a commoner. Nope. Each way I imagine it makes it seem more impossible. But if there’s a will, there’s a way, and if there are babies to be made, there’s definitely a way.

Lothar knocks, and once Sam calls out, he enters.

Sam Raid is in an off-white robe, her hourglass over her neck. As soon as she sees me, she leaps forward to give me a hug. She pulls away, gasping as her eyes fall on the cart.

“Wolf?” she asks hesitantly.

I answer with a sad nod. “It was … ” I take a look around the room.

It’s a guest room for a giant, but there are some things that Lothar has added to make it more comfortable for a commoner, such as a moveable stairwell that leads up to the bed.

“Let’s take a look,” Lothar says as he moves a giant stool into the center of the room.

“I can’t lift him.” I steel myself to stop a tornado of emotion from swirling in my stomach. “Please … ”

“I’ve got it,” Lothar says, suddenly taking charge. “Gadsaa, if you are going to stay around for this, please sit.”

Gadsaa looks from Sam to Lothar and from Lothar to me. “I have to get back to duty. Goodbye, Lothar.”

With that, and with her chin held high, she stomps out of the guesthouse, the floor shaking with each step she takes.

The clueless giant shakes his head as soon as she’s gone. “I really don’t know why she is behaving so poorly. Anyway, let’s examine Wolf.”

The scholarly giant places Wolf on the stool and removes the cloth that was covering his body. The big Tagvornin beast’s eyes are closed, his body incredibly stiff.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asks, her face a mixture of horror and concern. “And where’s Deathdale?”

I brief them on what happened in Drachma, how we had rigged the Drachma Killers guild to explode and how everything was going to plan until Stater soldiers, sent by Governor Florin Talonas, burst into the room.

“But it wasn’t the Stater soldiers who did this,” I say as my hands tremble. “It was Deathdale.”

“I knew it! That fucking bitch!”

“Please, we have a rule about cursing in Tael.”

“Shut up, Lothar,” Sam snaps at him.

“It was Deathdale’s energy that was used to ignite the explosives, the pine cone IEDs I devised. And rather than stop there, she continued to pour energy into the Canal District until she could no longer control her power. A sphere of energy formed around her and she exploded. Wolf got between us just in time, and took the brunt of the explosion.”

Sam bows her head. “And it killed him.”

“It did.”

Silence stretches between us, only to be interrupted by the giant.

“It sounds like Deathdale, and you as an extension, flew too close to the sun. An Icarus dilemma, if there ever was one.”

“Go ahead and lecture me.”

Lothar shrugs. “That’s not at all my intention, but you were warned about the consequences of riding to Drachma. Revenge is a game without a winner.”

“It wasn’t supposed to go this way. She promised … ” I take a deep breath, knowing better than to argue with a giant fully capable in the fine arts of reasoning. “She said she wouldn’t destroy the Canal District, and she couldn’t have possibly known her ability would overtake her like that.”

“She said or promised?”

“Said, Lothar, fuck. I don’t know. It was ... she agreed not to. That’s it. She agreed not to. And then she did. And this is the result, happy?”

“Why would I be happy that you lost your familiar?”

The giant scratches the back of his tangle of red hair, genuinely confused.

“It’s an expression of speech. Never mind. You wouldn’t get it. And he wasn’t my fucking familiar.”

“Language. They are serious about that here in Tael.”

Sam’s leatherbound Book of Time appears in her hand. She sits on the ground cross-legged in front of Wolf, and begins flipping through the pages.

“You aren’t thinking of using that spell, are you?” Lothar asks.

Sam nods stoically.

“But you aren’t at the right level,” he tells her.

I focus on Sam and her handle appears.

[Sam Raid, Level 6]

“You brought him here for a reason, didn’t you, Oric?” she asks me.

“I … I didn’t know if you could do anything or not. I just couldn’t leave him behind.” I bow my head. “You don’t have to do anything, Sam. Really. This is my fault. Completely my fault.”

“I’m aware.” She raises her hand and a platinum bracelet with blue accents materializes on her wrist.

“What’s that?” I ask as I get on my knees next to her.

“It’s a Blueshift wristband. As you know, I’m a Proxima Smuggler. I was part of the original Pilot Program in the 2050s, and I’ve advanced quite a bit over the last decade.” Sam shakes her head. “Hard to believe a decade has passed.”

“It is year 2069 for you up there, is it not?” Lothar asks.

“That’s right,” she says. “The Blueshift wristband banks all the EXP that I gain from any world I travel. It’s generally a one-to-one exchange. If I gain a level, I have the option of storing the EXP or taking the level. In my former role as an Illusionist, I took some of the levels and stored some of the EXP. But in a few of the other worlds I’ve been to recently, such as the shitty NASCAR world I told you about, Oric, I banked all my EXP. The band is also what allows me to teleport my ship.”

“So you can insta-level up?” I ask.

“Exactly, and it’s what I’m going to do to get to the correct level to cast a spell known as Reverse Time.”

“Are you sure, Sam?”

Her soft eyes settle on me. “I wouldn’t offer it if I wasn’t sure.”

“What level will you advance to?” asks Lothar.

“Level twenty-one, so fifteen levels up.”

(^_^)

Sam touches her Blueshift EXP band and a prompt appears before her. After one last look in my direction, she accepts the prompt, and her wristband flashes green.

The definition of her cheekbones increases as her hair turns a shade darker. Her shoulders bulk up slightly and her neck elongates.

“Whoa!” she says as she leans forward. Her robes flash through a few color changes before settling on an ivory gray.

“My word! Are you all right, Sam?” Lothar asks.

“The feeling of leveling up instantly. I always forget how crazy it feels.” She fans her face with her hand. “Okay, one moment. Let me deal with my attribute points.”

“Don’t put too much in MIND. Take it from me.”

“I’ll dump at least half of it in MIND. I’m a mage. Being smart helps.”

Sam’s eyes flash as she doles out her points. While she does so, I look up at Lothar, who is entirely fascinated by the Blueshift wristband and its power. I can tell he’s itching to ask questions.

“Tell me you tossed some of your forty-five points in STRENGTH,” I joke.

“I put a few there, but dumped twenty-five into MIND, five into SPEED, five into DEXTERITY, seven into WILL.”

“Feel anything different?” Lothar asks.

“Not really.”

“So it doesn’t feel like your mind has opened up, and all this shit has poured into there?”

Sam looks at me funny. “Not really. I think you’re exaggerating what it’s like to put points in MIND.”

“Honest to God, that’s what happens every time I do it.” I think back to my previous avatars. “But you’re right, not all my avatars have reacted this way. Maybe it’s just me. Any new spells?”

She flips through her Book of Time, nodding her head as she interprets the script. “Several. I now have Spell Surge, which cuts down on the time it takes me to cast something. Time Skip allows me and any object I touch to be taken to the future, like teleportation, but with distance limits.”

“How much of a limitation?”

“About half a mile.”

I nod. “That’ll still be handy. What else you got?”

She peers down at her book. “Light Shadow. This allows for sudden, rapid movement akin to a shadow. It lasts for a fair length of time too, enough to get around a battle.”

“Can you, um, show us?”

“Sure.” Sam lifts her wand, and suddenly, she’s gone. Before I can look around, I feel a tap on my shoulder.

“Damn, that’s cool,” I say as I catch the hourglass on her neck filling faster than it filled before. Her new Spell Surge ability must run constantly.

She sits again, the book in her lap.

“Let me see what else is in here. Ah, there’s also Expedited Retreat, which will definitely come in handy. It allows me, and anyone I’ve deemed as my party, to quickly leave a battle. Let me set it real quick.”

Sam lifts her wand and a static pink sphere appears on its tip. She holds it in the air above her head, scanning the text, and as she does, a sense of warmth trickles down my shoulders.

“That felt crazy!” says Lothar.

“Delay Injury should be self-explanatory.” She flips a page. “There’s also Memory Rot, which drains an opponent's memory, but I’ll have disadvantage when I cast it on someone at a higher level than me. Most of the attack spells are like that. There’s also Obelisk’s Gaze, which allows me to get a feel for future events, something I only felt as intuition earlier, when I warned you against going to Drachma. I fully comprehend this spell now.”

“Fuck me, you’re a powerhouse now! I was skeptical at first, especially with your spell recovery time, but damn, Sam.”

“Language.”

“No one is listening, Lothar.”

“I also have a spell called Chrono Stasis, which stops time for an object.”

“You mean you can stop time and, um, move around or something?”

“Not exactly. It’s like freezing time, but only works on someone else. If I cast it on you, you’d be frozen for a short duration while Lothar and I could move.”

“Do you have one that freezes time completely?”

She flips through the book. “Oddly, no, but there are blank pages at the back. But whatever. Back to the new spells..”

“About those ... ” Lothar starts to say.

“There’s two more and they’re strictly offensive spells,” Sam cuts him off. “Future Encumbrance sends a delayed strike of chromatic energy at an object thirty seconds after it has been cast.”

“What’s the point of that?” Lothar asks.

“It allows for the enemy to try to block the attack,” I tell him. “Once an attack never comes, it throws them temporarily off guard and then the attack strikes.” I mimic what I mean. “Sam attacks me, I go to block it with my shield, and nothing happens. I look around, or start engaging another foe, and boom, it hits me.”

“Powerfully fantastic!”

“What’s your other offensive spell?” I ask.

“Arcane Tide. Casting it creates a wave of chromatic energy that forces enemies to relive past traumatic experiences and causes them damage.”

“Damn skippy!”

“Damn skippy is right,” says the pretty chronomancer. “Now. Let’s do this.” She stands and in that instant, I see the Sam I used to know, before she died and became an Hourglass Mage. It is a fleeting glance tethered to the way she holds herself, and even though she is now alive and well, it crushes me to get a glimpse of the way she was before all this.

And I don’t know why.

She’s the same Sam, but there is something different about her in her new role. Maybe I can chalk this up to her appearance, but I believe it is more than that, that her avatar’s class and subclass have fundamentally changed who she is in the game.

Shut up, Oric.

“Sorry,” I whisper to myself as I follow behind Sam.

The Hourglass Mage stands before Wolf, whose dead body still rests on the giant stool. She holds her Book of Time in one arm, her wand in the opposite hand.  A shimmering spiral of pink magic from her hourglass necklace twists up her arm.

It settles on the tip of her wand, dissipates, and flares up again as she aims her wand at Wolf.

I gulp, the tension in the room now palpable.

Pink-hued smoke pours out of the end of her wand as she narrows her eyes on her target. With the flick of her wrist, her magic beams forward onto Wolf’s body, lifting the Tagvornin beast into the air.

Suddenly, Sam falls sideways; her ancient tome slides across the floor.

“Sam!” I move to her instantly just as I hear a familiar bark.

One glance over my shoulder and I see Wolf now standing on the giant stool, looking down at us excitedly.

Chapter Five: Jagraj the Giant Slayer

Wolf leaps down and runs to me. He jumps into my arms and I fall backwards. “Just give me a moment, Wolf!” I say as he licks my face. His big blue-green eyes, the wild grin on his face, his tongue beating out the side of his mouth – Wolf is truly alive. “Just a second, boy!” I tell him, tears of joy blurring my vision.

I get him off me and rush to Sam, who now sits cross-legged again, hunched over with her back to me.

“Are you okay?”

“Oric.” Lothar clears his throat.

I move around Sam to find her clutching her hourglass with trembling hands.

“What is it?” I take a knee before her.

Sam looks up at me and I gasp.

Wrinkles have appeared on her face in the form of crow’s feet and two hard lines on her forehead. The color has drained from her eyes; her skin has lost some of its sheen. Her confident, level-boosted posture from just moments ago has shrunk. She now resembles a woman in her late-forties who has taken good care of herself, yet is clearly reaching middle age.

“The spell aged you?”

Sam nods as she shows me the hourglass affixed to her necklace. The top bulb has developed a crack that resembles a cartoon drawing of lightning. The sand in the hourglass doesn’t change its position, defying gravity to remain stationary at the top of the bulb.

“It’s cracked,” Lothar says, his voice low and thoughtful.

“I knew it would crack,” Sam says with a deep breath in. “A spell like this is incredibly powerful. I couldn’t quite make out the text because it is written in Unigaean–”

“–You should have let me examine it yesterday! We examined the first part of your Book of Time.”

“I know I should have, Lothar, but like I told you before, I have a sense of what this book says and … ” Sam shivers. “Are you two cold?”

“I’m fine,” I tell her as loosen my lavender cloak. “You can wear this.”

Sam hesitates.

“What?”

“It doesn’t exactly smell very fresh,” she finally says. “Plus the color.”

“What the hell is wrong with lavender?”

“So your sense of smell has improved, but your fashion sense has remained the same,” says Lothar. “How fascinating!”

Sam chuckles. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Well, if you don’t want my cloak, I don’t know what to tell you. But in all seriousness, thank you so much, Sam – Cyn,” I say, using her real name. I feel a wave of emotion come but like any last warrior – ha! Fuck me – I swallow it down. “Really, Wolf is all I have. Well, and you.”

“And me,” Lothar adds.

“I’m not going to say I hardly know you, big guy, but we’ve only known each other for three, four days tops.”

“If tomorrow Unigaea ceases to exist, then these last three days really will mean something. That’s called giant logic.”

Wolf moves over to Sam and starts licking her face. He sits before her and she starts scratching him behind the ear. “I’m glad to see you again, Wolfie.”

Seeing the two together, alive, warms my heart.

Rather than say what I’m thinking and what the three of us know to be true – this is all my fault – I turn away from the scene to the human-sized door. I pause there for a moment, unsure of what I should do next.

Again, Sam intervenes.

“I need to rest,” she says, “and while he seems energetic, I believe Wolf should rest for the rest of the day as well. Lothar, didn’t you have something you wanted to show Oric?”

“Ah yes! My friend, Fafner, at the Tael’s Historical Repository, has something for you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay, Sam?”

“It’s fine,” she says wearily. “Wolfie and I will be just fine.”

“I’d like to spend some time with him.” Wolf moves to me and hops onto his back legs. He starts to lick my face. “Easy, Wolf!”

“Please, let him rest just a while. He may seem excited, but he needs rest.”

“If you say so.” I lower Wolf’s two front paws to the floor. “You heard the lady, get some sleep.”

He whines, and I point to the rug. Slowly, with his tail tucked between his legs, Wolf makes his way over to the rug and plops down.

Lothar turns to the door. “Rest well, Sam, and we’ll be back in a little while. We can set off for the Rune Lands in the early morning.”

(^_^)

“It’s nice to have Wolf back,” Lothar says after we’re about a block away from his house. “While I myself can’t possess a dog, it is nice seeing you with one. And really, is there anything wrong with living vicariously through someone else?”

“I guess not,” I say as we take a left onto, well, a giant street. There is a park on the right side of the street with trees covered in cherry colored leaves, and benches around a fairly large pond.

It is afternoon now, and I hear a lunch bell ring in the residential neighborhood west of the pond.

“One could even argue that I’m living vicariously through my avatar.”

Lothar chuckles. “You know, Oric, I enjoy your wit. It is unrefined, but you do say clever things from time to time.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome! Come, the Repository is this way.”

As we pass through the park, Lothar stops and speaks to an older couple sitting on a bench. He chats for a good ten minutes while I stare out at the pond, counting the turtles that have propped themselves up on tree limbs sticking out of the water.

The crimson sky overhead is at odds with this peaceful scene, and I’m yet again reminded that we have a bigger mission we are to attempt to accomplish, something I’m still uncertain about.

“It’s just up there, on that hill.” Lothar points to a building designed to look like a castle, but without the moat or the enclosed courtyard. I’ve been staring at the building since we entered the park, wondering if it was where the city leader resided.

“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 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.”

“Show me what?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

“Ha! Not that. I mean my ship. I’ll show you my ship. You’ll be impressed.”

“Your … spaceship?”

“Sure, my spaceship. That’s definitely what it is since it does technically travel through the Proxima Galaxy via the OMIB.”

“Orthogonal Matrix Inverse Base.”

“You’re getting smarter.”

“Put a few more points in MIND, and I’ll be speaking Chinese with a South Carolina accent.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Anyway, your ship.”

Wolf barks and I tell him he’s welcome on the bed if he can figure out how to use the ladder. He barks again, circles nervously, and finally relaxes onto the ground, his head between his paws.

“My ship is a part of me. I’ve spent ten years building it from nothing to what it is now. Anyway, I’m tired. Let’s rest, and after we’ve traveled all day tomorrow, I’ll take you there.”

“Lothar and Wolf too?”

She shakes her head. “Nope, just you.”

(^_^)

My dreams are boiling lava rushing through the terminal of the world’s busiest airport. There are faces, cries for help, heroic acts, death-defying action sequences, and throughout it all, the Obelisk floats overhead, tendrils of charged energy boiling off her body as the world comes to an end.

As everything dies.

Stater soldiers appear, and suddenly I’m at the bottom of a hill, prepped and ready for their charge.

They charge, followed by Stater soldiers on Tagvornin wolves. I brandish my Splintered Sword and cry out as I race to meet them all.

Rage.

RAGE!

My muscles bulge as I bring my weapon back and …

Instakill!

The scene cuts to Governor Florin Talonas on a balcony watching as an intense battle takes place before him. He’s in his princely finest, his blonde hair in a manbun, his cape freshly pressed.

I drop from the air and land in front of him.

Two buster swords appear in his hands and he strikes them together, sending a shockwave of electricity in my direction. The electricity throws me backwards through a window. The air knocked out of me, I equip a Magnolia pinecone IED and light the end.

I run to him and avoid Florin’s next strike as I throw my body into his. Pine cone in hand, I shove it into his chest just as it explodes.

Instakill!

I’m tossed backwards, my hand ripped to shreds, my vision a blur of bloody disruption.

Streamline time.

I awake in a cold sweat, Sam resting lightly next to me.

The morning sky is pink, the sun just now blooming on the horizon. I roll to my side, blink, and the experience I’ve just had reappears. I glance away from the light filled windows towards the front of the guesthouse.

I try to fall back asleep to no avail.

Sitting on the edge of the bed now, I look down to see Wolf resting at the foot of the ladder. I climb down and cuddle up next to him.

His hair smells like Blue Melon with a hint of dog. He’s snoring softly, and while he doesn’t turn to me when I cuddle up next to him, his ears twitch, letting me know he’s aware of my presence.

I feel the floor shake from outside the guesthouse. Wolf pops up and moves to the door, keeping low as he tracks the sound.

His ears relax and his tail starts to wag, signaling it is likely Lothar outside.

I go to the small door, and step out to find the giant sitting on a meditations box and reading a local newspaper. His oval glasses on his face and his red hair disheveled as ever, Lothar looks up from his paper and beams down at me. “Ready to go get some pastries?”

“I guess?”

“Well, get changed and we’ll go. We can surprise Sam.”

“I can’t wear my night robe?” I ask as I do a little circle. “I mean, is it really that bad?”

“I suppose you can wear it, but try not to show anyone your private parts.”

I laugh just as Wolf walks out the door and joins me. “I’m not really the flasher type.”

“Flasher?”

“Never mind. Wolf,” I turn to the Tagvornin canine, “stay here and watch Sam.”

He starts to whine.

“Are there any meat pastries?” I call up to Lothar.

“I believe there are.”

“Stay here, and I’ll bring you some yummy meat pastries,” I tell Wolf as I scratch him behind the ear. He whines and I ignore him.

“They are, um, for lack of a better term, giant-sized.”

“Aware,” I tell Lothar with a grin. “You’re going to fucking love these big ass pastries, Wolf.”

“Language, don’t forget.”

“Got it,” I tell the garrulous giant as we wind around his home and onto the main street. “Also, I was meaning to ask you, are your parents inside or something?” I nod over my shoulder at his house.

“Nope.”

“And you own the place?”

“I inherited it from an uncle. My parents live in another part of the city. I would live with them, but I prefer this district.”

“Why?”

“Closer to the pastry action,” he says, pointing at a carved wooden cupcake. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for treats.”

“They’re really that good?”

“I’ll make you a believer.”

Lothar and I stop to let a pair of lovebird giants holding hands cross in front of us. The female giant presses her head into the guy giant’s shoulder. She stands on her tippy toes and kisses him on the cheek.

“I’m all about giant love,” I say, which I immediately regret saying. “Sorry, sounded stupid.”

“No judgment here,” Lothar says on the tail end of a laugh.

We enter into a shop aptly named Pastry Giants and the guy at the counter, a heavyset man with triple E man boobs and a Michael Jordan Hitler mustache, greets Lothar by name.

“Hello, Henry!” Lothar stops the baker mid-sentence when he says, “Not my usual, today. I’m feeding two others! Commoners.”

“Three,” I remind him.

“I see,” the baker says, eying me suspiciously.

“Don’t worry, I’m not really a Player Killer,” I tell him as I equip my Masking Hat. “See?”

The baker looks to Lothar, who quickly changes the conversation away from my class to popular giant news topics which include some sport called Launch Rock, a scandal regarding a few giants at the Solidus academy who were caught cheating, and a speculative conversation on the Red Plague.

Crazy how superstitions spread faster than facts.

Lothar buys more pastries than we could ever possibly eat and we exit the bakery.

“Nice robe and hat!” a giant youth calls out to me. I’d give him a high five, but the big fucker could knock me all the way back to Metica, and then I’d have to rage and use narcotics to get back to Tael.

Lothar snorts as we turn onto his street. “You really look overly casual in your night robe and your farmer’s hat.”

“Would you prefer my lavender cloak, or should I be strutting around in my giant killer armor?”

“Giant slayer,” Lothar says as we push through the gate that leads to his backyard and the guest house.

Sam Raid waits out front with Wolf at her side. She sits cross-legged on a piece of giant lawn furniture, her Book of Time open in her lap. She looks up at us and smiles, the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes lifting.

Wolf races to meet me, barks, leaps into the air, and nearly brings me down.

“Hey!” I say as I try to get him under control. “Lothar, feed him before he eats me!”

Lothar drops a meat pie the size of a monster truck wheel on the ground.

Wolf looks to me, I give him the nod of approval, and he practically swan dives into the giant meat pie.

“There’s no way he can eat all that,” I say as Wolf gives it his best shot.

“We’ll see!” Lothar drags a table over and places the rest of the pastries on it. “I don’t have chairs, but you two can sit on the table itself.”

“That’s fine,” I say as I look up at the table. I could grapple up there to the top, as the space between the table and the ground is at least twelve feet, but that would take effort. “Got a ladder?” I ask the giant.

“I’ll give you a hand.”

Lothar bends and unfurls his palm before me.

This should be interesting, I think as I step into his palm. He lightly closes his fingers around me and seconds later, I’m standing on the actual table. He does the same for Sam.

“You get used to traveling like that,” she says.

“Really? This something you’ve been doing for a while?”

Lothar makes a point of cutting the pastries into as tiny slices as he can. Of course, these are still pretty large, so Sam further cuts the pastries using one of my knives.

Every now and then, I look over at the other side of the table to check on Wolf, only to find him still gorging himself on the meat pie.

I whistle down to him and tell him to ease up a bit. He flat out ignores me and continues his gorgefest.

Not long after, Wolf is comatose, lying on his side next to the remnants of the meat pie, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

Chapter Seven: The First Artifact

It is no surprise that we leave a few hours later than normal. Our bellies full, Lothar even floats the idea of sticking around in Tael for a bit longer, but we’re on a mission, and a little after noon, we set off.

It is warmer as we leave the giant city, and the smell of baking pastries is strong in the air. I’m so full I couldn’t even look at another scone, and I’m happy for the walk ahead. Sam teases me some, Lothar asks stupid questions and simultaneously make genius observations, and Wolf marks his territory more often than not.

Predictably, it isn’t long before we encounter a group of mercenaries on our path. Six guys and three gals, each decked out in furs, armor, and big-ass boots. The men have beards, and by the looks of the ladies and their muscles, I’d say they have chest hair.

All are Player Characters, all level fifteen and above.

Nine in total, they are waiting for us on the winding road that connects Metica to Drachma. Their leader, a round man with a gnarly beard that extends well past his gut, carries a short ax with animal or human hair tacked into its grip.

We know why they’re here, and they know why they’re here, so we get down to it.

“Nice tassel,” I tell their leader as I unsheathe my Splintered Sword. I burp and apologize. “Sorry, big breakfast. Now where were we?” I flourish my weapon and point it at the group’s leader. “Let me guess, Stater sent you?”

Sam steps before me, her wand in hand. “You only get one warning – leave now. Go back to the southern lands, and your lives will be spared.”

“Ahem.” Lothar clears his throat and everyone strains to look up at the giant. “You are all Player Characters, are you not?”

“Some fucking smart NPC you got there,” one of the women mercs says, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

Wolf drops his shoulders and bares his teeth as he growls.

“Ah, so you are, well good. You may have noticed the crimson sky, and have heard of its source, either through local reasoning, the Red Plague, or the real reason, a source code bomb. I trust you are aware of what that is.”

“Youth!”

Talk about springing into action! A pink blast from Sam’s wand strikes the leader, who screams like a sissy as pink smoke boils out of him. His body begins to shrink, his armor and fur staying the same size. Within moments, he is a crying infant trapped beneath the weight of a chest plate.

“Holy shit, Sam!”

The other mercs brandish their weapons, which range from clubs to swords to a pike with an ax head.

“What the hell are you?” the female sellsword asks, her pike at the ready.

Sam and I glance at each other; the sand in her hourglass rapidly falls in the opposite direction.

“Um, you feel like answering that?” I ask her.

“Who am I?” Sam laughs. “I’m your worst fucking nightmare!”

(^_^)

“My god, Sam, that was lame!” I shout as I meet the first mercenary swordsman.

A pink charge twirls at the base of Sam’s wrist. “It was the first one-liner that came to mind!”

“It was funny!” adds Lothar.

-59 HP!

I manage to get a small swipe in, at least enough to send my opponent stumbling backwards. “Wolf, protect Sam!”

I equip my electric shield with my other hand and not a moment too soon. One of the club-wielding sellswords brings his weapon down, and is given the shock of his life.

-166 HP! Critical hit!

“Argh!” He’s tossed backwards just as one of the females runs forward.

Her sword meets mine, and I’m suddenly blindsided by the guy with the pike. My giant slayer armor takes the brunt of the hit, but I still take damage, my forward momentum totally lost.

As my first opponent brings her arm back for a piercing attack, a tree stump hurled through the air takes her out.

Instakill!

I turn back to find Lothar gasping as he realizes what he’s just done.

“Fuck yeah!” A surge of motivating adrenaline rips through me.

Two mercenaries descend upon me just as Sam fires off another spell. “Temporal Decay!”

One pink blast later, and their weapons crumble before my very eyes.

“Thanks, Sam!” I shout, moving into action.

Instakill!

I follow up with a swipe that takes the second merc’s head off.

Instakill!

Infamy + 1!

Infamy + 1!

Three more kills for the bonus points, I think, as the sellsword who I electro-shielded lifts his hand to logout.

I sheathe my sword and toss two of my throwing knives at the coward. One misses, the other gets him in the eye socket.

-69 HP!

Now that he can’t logout – due to the game mechanics of being injured and in combat – I turn my attention to the hitwoman trying to engage Wolf. She swipes with her pike, and Wolf leaps out of the way just in time, snarling all the livelong day.

Seeing his opening, Wolf goes for her leg and yanks the pike woman to the ground.

Running now, I leap into the air, my Splintered Sword overhead and upside down.

Instakill!

Infamy + 1!

My downward momentum drives the three prongs of my weapon into the woman’s armor, which to her disadvantage is actually made of hardened leather.

“Oric!”

I fall backwards just in time to avoid an ax attack. The ax passes just above my face; I watch in slow motion as it moves over me, feeling the gust of air coming off it.

Time tumbles forward and Wolf slams into the guy. Wolf goes for his ax hand, and starts whipping his head around after he’s clamped onto the guy’s wrist.

I roll to the right, get to my feet, and bring my sword down as if it were a guillotine.

Instakill!

Blood mists the air.

Infamy + 1!

Smack!

I hear a sickening crack, and look to my right to see the last two standing mercs flying backwards as Lothar gives them the tree-trunk-as-a-baseball-bat treatment.

“Fuck yeah!” I shout as the two struggle to stand.

“Metastasize wound!”

A blast from Sam’s wand quickly kills the two, whose internal injuries cause their bodies to bloat and twist into crime scene worthy postures.

“One more to go!”

I move over to the guy whose eye socket now belongs to one of my throwing knives. I stand over the sniveling merc, as snot runs out of his nose and down his chin.

“Please, don’t!” he cries, his face a bloody mess.

I show him the number four with my fingers. “See that? That’s how many of your little band of mercenaries I just killed. Now you’re a Player Killer, and you know what that means.”

“I’m five,” he whispers.

“Yep, because I’m not killing your baby leader. Actually, I have no idea what we’ll do with him. Probably just leave him here.”

Their baby leader logs out.

“Don’t know how he managed that, but there it is.” I crouch before him. “To be more honest with you than I should be, especially considering the fact that you’re moments away from death and what I say doesn’t matter anyway, because seriously, who the fuck am I? Unigaea is doomed if we don’t try to do something to stop the Red Plague. The giant, the wolf, and the mage – those people, as far as I can tell, are our best option. You don’t see the Proxima Company doing shit. So in a way, you and your colleagues are disrupting a pretty important mission.”

“Just do it already if you’re going to do it,” he sobs, his fists clenched together at his side. “I don’t care what you have to say!”

“Stop playing with your prey,” comments Sam, and I can’t quite register the tone of her voice, but knowing Sam, she’s likely just fucking with me.

“Fine, fine.”

Instakill!

Infamy + 1!

Bonus attribute point received!

(^_^)

I pull up my attributes list and send the point to STRENGTH.

Attributes

STRENGTH: 14

WILL: 13

DEXTERITY: 13

MIND: 11

SPEED: 14

“Getting stronger,” I tell Sam as I flex my biceps.

She laughs. “For each point you put in STRENGTH, you appear to lose a point in MIND.”

“Not according to my stats, and I don’t feel any dumber.”

“But you look it.”

Sam walks over to Lothar, who now sits on his meditations box with a gloomy look on his face.

“Reeling from the fight?” she asks.

“Something like that.”

Wolf now rests on his haunches, still panting. I bring my hand to his head and slick his fur back. “You’re just as good at fighting as you were before you died.”

He cocks his head at me.

“Once you get your next level, I’m putting all the points into MIND, okay? Hopefully we’ll be able to have a genuine conversation. Or maybe if I put more of my own points in MIND, I’ll be able to understand dog speak.”

He sneezes, and licks his lips.

“You’re the coolest, Wolf.”

I turn to see Sam with her hand on Lothar’s knee. The giant is genuinely feeling terrible about what he’s done; I suddenly regret giving him shit just moments ago.

“It’ll be all right, buddy,” I say as I approach them. “And thank you. You saved my ass back there with that tree stump.”

“I did?” he asks, tears welling in the corner of his eyes.

“You sure fucking did. Sam would have been forced to use her reverse time spell again if you hadn’t thrown it.”

Sam shakes her head. “I don’t know if I should use that one again.” She shows us her hourglass necklace; I see that the fissure has now grown from the top to the bottom bulb.

“Shit, Sam.”

“Shit is right.”

“We have to be careful with all your spells,” says Lothar. “I don’t think you should be using as many as you used just now. That isn’t helping.”

“But I have to be useful and I’ve tried using a weapon; I can barely swing a sword, which is odd, considering my last avatar.”

“I never met your last avatar but I’m sure she was a fine specimen.” The giant removes his glasses, and starts to polish them on his robe.

I crack a grin. Can’t help it.

“What?” he asks, peering down at me.

“Former Sam was indeed a fine specimen, Lothar, the finest specimen I’ve encountered in Unigaea.”

“Interesting. Was she finer than Deathdale?”

My eyes go wide and I swallow his surprise question with a loud gulp.

“Because Deathdale was beautiful too, even with her eye patch.”

“Shit, of course she was, I mean, of course Sam is finer! Time to change the topic! So who is ready to check for loot? Anyone? No? Just me? Well, I don’t want to be the only one dumpster diving. Yes, that’s what I call checking for loot. Wait, no it isn’t. Okay, let’s go!”

My face redder than a McStarbucks during the holidays, I turn away from the two and whistle for Wolf. He trots over, I mount up, and scoot back, making room for Sam.

“Are you coming?” I ask her.

“You’re an idiot, Oric.”

(^_^)

“So you could go to your ship right now?” Lothar asks Sam.

We’ve been traveling for a few hours now, and haven’t encountered much aside from a group of traveling merchants, a shaman selling voodoo dolls, and, of all things, a phallically enhanced snowman crafted in the shade of misplaced boulder.

It isn’t snowing now, but it is cold enough in the shade to keep things frozen, which includes the anatomically correct snowman as well as a few patches of frozen grass.

“Yes,” Sam tells the giant. “The wristband I used earlier to level up is what takes me to my ship.”

“And can you bring people with you?”

“I can, but I’m afraid you’re too large. My ship is big, but you’ll retain the size you are here in Unigaea, and only the docking bay could hold you. And even then, it may not be large enough.”

“What about me?” I ask.

“I already told you I’d show you.”

“Wolf too?”

“I don’t think Wolf would enjoy being on a ship traveling through the Proxima Galaxy. It can be, um, quite the experience for the first timer.”

“He’s a super dog; he can adjust to anything.”

Sam scoots a bit closer to me as Wolf picks up his speed.

If he’s fatigued, he’s not showing it, and with only a few more hours of daylight, I believe we’ll be able to cover some pretty good ground today. Still won’t reach Tagvornin, but we should arrive late tomorrow night. And of course, there are the villages that surround the city. We’ll be able to get info there.

Speaking of villages, it isn’t long before we pass one that has been completely razed. I see something burning in the distance and I point to it.

“You think it’s a pyro afflicted?” I ask Sam.

“Can’t tell. Lothar?”

The giant lowers his meditations box and pops it open. He brandishes a monocular, adjusts the brass ring around it, and focuses on the flaming speck in the distance.

“Yeah, that’s one all right. It’s waving to us.”

“One of the afflicted is waving at us?”

“Yup!”

“We should keep moving,” I say immediately.

Lothar takes another look at the pyro afflicted. “To be honest, I’ve never seen one actually communicate with someone before.”

“We should at least try to see what the person wants,” adds Sam.

“Are you two serious? I’m not going to sit here and say I just fought off a band of these fuckers a few days ago, but yeah, you get my drift. We should keep moving. We don’t want to get involved with the afflicted if we can help it.”

“Please, Oric. I’ll just metastasize the person’s wound if they try to attack us.”

“I’ll tell you what,” I say after I’ve thought it over, “Lothar, you go forward first. Sam and I will stay behind – besides you are the most diplomatic of all of us. I will keep my crossbow gun trained on his or her head. Any funny moves and boom! Headshot.”

“I’m the most diplomatic?” he asks.

“Sure, why not? Sam, you stay back as well, and be ready to get any pyro afflicted that may come next. They move in waves,” I say as I narrow my eyes on the flaming person in the distance. “And do not, I repeat, do not let them touch your skin. Weapons are fine, but if they touch your skin, you become one of them.”

Lothar’s eyes light up. “Ah, children’s rhyme written by Olivas! If they touch your skin, you become one of them; if you become one of them, the flames burn within; within and without, the flames spit and shout; the flames keep ablaze and your dreams fade away; so keep your hands to yourself, for the good of your health!”

“A children’s rhyme about pyro affliction?” I shake my head in disbelief.

“You’re the one who quoted it,” Lothar says as we turn to the burning person on the horizon.

“I was unaware. Wolf, hold on.” I hop down and tell Sam to stay on. “If anything happens, I want you to get as far back as you can. In fact, maybe it’s better for you to ride Wolf in battles, because he can get away quickly if need be.”

Sam scoffs. “You act like I’m some type of invalid. I have magic, you know.”

“I just … ”

I think of Deathdale dying, and Sam’s death in her previous avatar. Even though Deathdale’s was her own fault.

There’s nothing you could have done, I remind myself, guilt causing a sinkhole in my gut.

“You just what?”

“I just want you to be safe, that’s all.”

Sam’s eyes soften. “I know you do, but treating me like some fragile doll won’t help. If it’s my time to die as this avatar, then so be it.”

“All right, everyone stop.” I look from the scholarly giant to Sam. “What’s our end game here? What could we possible gain by going to greet one of the pyro afflicted?”

Lothar shrugs my question off. “The mystery that is Unigaea is in a constant state of unravelling, even if it is ultimately the result of an advanced algorithm played like a finely tuned harp by the Obelisk.”

“Any response to that, Sam?” I ask as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

She smirks.

“Fine, fine, you two win, let’s get this over with.”

As we walk through the razed village, I equip my St. Lucia crossbow pistol and load a bolt. I bring it up as we near the pyro afflicted person, who looks to be female.

Her outline flashes red and a reticle appears on her forehead.

Sam and I stop, Sam still mounted on Wolf.

Lothar nears the pyro afflicted woman, each step slower than the last.

“You waved at us,” he calls down to her once he is about thirty feet away.

“I did,” she calls back, flames lashing out of her charred lips as she speaks. The fire burns on every part of her body yet her form is visible, her eyes completely white.

Something isn’t right.

I glance left and right, looking for any signs of movement. About the only thing good about the pyro afflicted is that they’re easy to spot.

It’s then that a realization strikes me.

“It’s the Obelisk,” I whisper to Sam.

“You sure?” she asks.

“I just know it.”

Lothar smiles at the burning female. “My name is Lothar Shane, and my companions and I are traveling north to the Rune Lands.”

“These are the Rune Lands,” says the woman as I approach Lothar.

“Hey, big guy!”

Lothar looks over his shoulder at me and hisses. “What happened to the plan?”

“It’s changed,” I say as I walk past him. “Obelisk, I’m glad you could join us.”

The burning woman grins. “Hello, Oric.”

(^_^)

“Obelisk!” Lothar takes a knee and bows his head to the NVA Seed. Embers flutter off her burning skull as she greets the giant.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lothar.”

Sam approaches on Wolf, her wand still at her side.

“And Sam Raid,” the Obelisk says, her voice raspy. “I am glad to see you were able to bring Wolf back.”

I feel that familiar pang of guilt in my chest. I don’t want to start accusing the Obelisk of anything, but she could have done something, she could have …

It was your fault, Oric.

I steel myself with a nod. What’s done is done.

“There has been a change in plans.” The Obelisk places her flaming hands behind her back. “Governor Florin Talonas of Stater has decided to ride north with his armies.”

“Ride north? Why would he do that?” asks Lothar. He swings his meditations box around and takes a seat on it.

“He’s trying to take the Rune Land,” I say bitterly. “It’s a power play.”

“At a time like this? Surely he knows of the source code bomb.”

“He does,” says the Obelisk. “I have visited him.”

“And?” I ask.

“And.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“He told me he would do what he has to do to solidify his power, no matter who gets in the way, even if the entity in the way is me.”

“Talonas is an RPC,” Sam says. “If the world is destroyed, he’ll be destroyed.”

The Obelisk turns to the west and holds her chin high. “Florin is of two beliefs. One, the Proxima company will get a handle on the Red Plague. If that doesn’t happen, he believes that he will be able to control it with the First Artifact.”

“The First Artifact?” I glance from Sam to Lothar, both of whom shrug.

“I was created at the same moment Unigaea was created, the world’s Adam and Eve. The First Artifact is a scepter I made from algomagic, the first and only of its kind.”

“Algomagic?”

“Algorithmic magic,” says the scholarly giant. “Basically a cool way to say advanced neuronal coding.”

The Obelisk nods in agreement. “It was the very first thing that I created, long before there were cities and walls and beasts and colorful NPCs.”

“What could Florin possibly want with it?” asks Sam.

“He believes it has the power to destroy the source code bomb.”

“And does it?” I ask.

“I don’t know.”

I stare at the burning woman for a moment, trying to sort out all the questions coming to me. I start with the most obvious. “And you say Florin has the First Artifact now? How did he get it?”

“The Artifact was hidden in plain sight, inside one of the monuments at the entrance to the Solidus Academy.”

“Which one?” Lothar asks.

“The Vampiric Mermaid Statue, the one in the Courtyard of the Fallen Scholar. There are hundreds of replicas across the land, and I figured that it would be as good a place as any to hide it.”

“Why didn’t you hide it on Hashmonean?” I recall what I’ve seen of the island, which isn’t much. Just a lagoon, really.

“I didn’t want people to come after it, and I didn’t want to destroy it. No one knew of the item, but I thought – and rightly so – that eventually someone would come to my island looking for treasure. Not that they’d get it, but I didn’t want to provide any added incentive.”

“So you put it in a statue?”

“Hidden in plain sight. That is, until the meteor attack happened, and it was uncovered during the cleanup process.”

“And now Talonas has it?”

The Obelisk shakes her fiery head. “Actually, an Arcane Warlock named Broken has it.”

I look skeptically from the Obelisk to Sam. “His name is Broken? Could he have thought of a lamer name?”

“Broken is no laughing matter,” says the Obelisk. “You may have wondered who brought on the meteor attack that destroyed most of Solidus. Now you have your answer.”

A series of images come to me – Deathdale rising to meet the meteors, Wolf and I surrounded by Solidus soldiers, the fire raining down from the sky. If a single warlock caused that, he must be one of the most powerful to ever walk the face of Unigaea.

As if the NVA Seed is reading my mind, she answers my next question before I can ask it. “Broken is at level 83, making him the most powerful Player Character in this world.”

“That’s great and all that they are riding north, but we are riding north as well, and we’re much closer,” I tell her. “We may be able to do something before Florin and Broken get here.”

“I need your help.” She lifts her fiery finger and points it at me. “That is why I have brought the three of you together.”

It’s then that I notice flames flickering in the distance. It takes me all of three seconds to realize that more pyro afflicted are moving towards us.

“We are helping,” I remind her, “and what’s with the backup?”

“Florin and his army are now in the swath of land between the Eastern and Western Splits. I will command an army of the afflicted to meet them. I will also utilize the Meticans, as I can extend control over their population through their new leader, Lady Desdemona. But I can’t control Player Characters, which is where you come in.”

“I can’t control people either,” I remind her.

“It will be very difficult to take on Florin and Broken together. I believe you three will be able to overwhelm Broken’s magic, and when you do, I need you to take the scepter.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith in us, which I can appreciate, but still.” An idea comes to me. “Hey, if you can control all NPCs, why don’t you just have some ants or something steal it while he’s resting?”

“You will need to kill him, and take it from his person. It is the only way.”

“And do what with it, exactly?”

Even though they are still far away, the burning people along the perimeter have me on edge. The pyro afflicted are truly cursed, even if they now have a leader. I can sense their heat, their fury.

“You will destroy the First Artifact by throwing it into the source code bomb. I believe this may be the only way to stop the spread of the bomb.”

“All of this seems crazy,” I say as the afflicted circle around us, their shared warmth reaching my face. They stand poised on their heels, ready to attack when instructed to do so. “So now we’re going to war, and once we get the First Artifact, we’re supposed to just toss the scepter into the bomb, into the lava that is the Red Plague?”

“It is slow moving,” Lothar reminds me. “It could work.”

The Obelisk nods. “When I made the First Artifact, I poured an unnecessary amount of algomagic into the scepter, enough to affect the game-time continuum. I sealed it in the statue, only after I was certain its powers were dormant.”

“And now they’re not?”

“Unfortunately not. Broken reactivated the First Artifact. I believe tossing it into the source code bomb may reverse its course. The bomb has already taken Lucre and has moved on to the northern coast of Tagvornin.”

“I just don’t see how going to war with Talonas and getting the scepter will help us. And trust me,” I clench my fists together, “there’s nothing I want more at the moment than to take the fight to the governor. But I’ve had enough of trusting these feelings, these personal quests for revenge. Last time I tried that, I lost Wolf, and in the process of bringing back Wolf, Sam has suffered greatly.”

“I’m fine, Oric,” Sam says as she places a hand on my shoulder. “And if this is what the Obelisk thinks we should do, then we should do it. What else are we going to do? Ride north and yell at the source code bomb?”

“I wasn’t going to yell at it.”

“Then what was your plan exactly?” the Obelisk asks.

“I figured the plan would come to me at some point, as our quest progressed.”

“It has progressed as of now.”

Quest update!

The Obelisk has asked you to aid her in battling Governor Talonas and an Arcane Warlock named Broken. Ride south, join the war, and help her secure the First Artifact.

Chapter Eight: Warp Rider

“We can’t stick around here,” I say after the Obelisk presses past us, followed by a growing army of the pyro afflicted. A sinking feeling in my gut reminds me of just how skeptical of all this I really am, how futile I believe our newfound mission will be.

The burning bodies walking all around me only add to my apprehension.

Lothar brings his sandaled foot up. He picks at his toe for a moment, finds a splinter the size of a small twig, and tosses it over his shoulder. “I understand you are reluctant, Oric,” he says, oblivious to the moving fire people all around us, “but I believe we should have faith in the Obelisk.”

“And why’s that?”

Wolf trots over to Lothar, Sam still on his back.

The Hourglass Mage hasn’t said much since the Obelisk left, likely as creeped out as I was by seeing the army of flaming undead. Well, undead might not be the correct term, but that is what they look like, and since they can’t be reasoned with, they are not far from zombies.

“The Obelisk knows things that we don’t know,” the giant explains. “She sees everything at once, experiences all things in real time as they happen, yet this ‘real time’ isn’t linear. She lives in the present, the past, and the future up to a certain point. The thing you just saw was merely a manifestation of her.”

“What about the dragonfly version of her I saw in Hashmonean?”

He shrugs. “I am unfamiliar with your experience there.”

I touch my neck, my fingers pressing into the scar I received from the vampiric mermaids. “Well, and I know you agree with me here, Sam, I think that what we are doing is foolish. And seriously, I’m not trying to rain on anyone’s parade here. You know I like going to battle as much as the next guy. Wow, that sounds stupid, but you get my point. This just seems impulsive, especially for an NVA Seed.”

Sam’s eyes are steady on me. “What choice do we have?”

“We can ride north and disobey her order. Or was it an order? It didn’t exactly feel like that.”

Lothar scoffs. “Disobey the Obelisk? Ha! That’s the worst idea I’ve heard all day. Really, Oric, I don’t understand your apprehension.”

An image of Drachma’s burning Canal District comes to me and I swallow it down. “I have my reasons. And besides that, what will having the First Artifact do? What if it’s nothing more than a glorified scepter?”

Lothar shrugs. “She said she didn’t know, or at least it felt that way.”

“Let’s just do what she requests,” Sam says with the finality I’ve come to expect from her. “It is her world; if it implodes then we find a different world.” She looks up at Lothar. “Sorry, you know what I mean.”

The giant bites his bottom lip. “If this is what the Obelisk wants, and I die serving, then I die serving. Now, we need to begin heading south, but it’s also getting close to dinner time.”

A huge boar tears out of an abandoned field. It chases five snow rabbits, their tails fluffy white. The six creatures skid to a halt before us and die.

“Ha!” Lothar claps his hands together, which causes Wolf to yelp. “Dinner is served!”

(^_^)

After making a fire pit and gathering wood, Sam works on a stew using the rabbits. I take care of cleaning the boar for Lothar, and as I strip the beast of its meat, the giant relays to us a Taelian tale about a blind goblin who thought he was an elf.

As I have noticed before, giants seem to stay away from any type of vulgarity, be it in their language or their actions. The Taelian giants aren’t the type to terrorize unless they are provoked, which halfway explains the Busty Gazongas piece, but doesn’t quite explain why she’s squirting milk.

Even the story Lothar relates to us about the goblin who thought he was an elf features this famous milk bukkake scene, yet the reason why she’s turned on her breast hydrants is nonexistent. I get the feeling I should ask him about it, but I hold off, knowing all too well that the explanation that may follow would be draining.

There’s probably a metaphor in there somewhere.

The night brings some snow, and after we’ve eaten, Lothar and I gather more brush to add to the fire.

We’re now about an hour south of where we encountered the Obelisk. I don’t quite know the sleeping arrangement yet, but if Sam isn’t looking to cuddle, I can always cuddle up with Wolf and my lavender cloak.

You’re a loser, Oric.

“Yeah? Fuck you too,” I whisper to the voice in my head. Sam sits across from Lothar, who is on his meditations box again, the fire’s reflection flickering across his face.

Sam snorts. “What was that?”

“Nothing, continue.”

“So as I was saying, it is called OMIB porting. Are you familiar with it?” she asks the giant. The crackle of the fire and the shadows dancing on Sam’s face and body add a sense of surrealness to the scene.

“OMIB-porting is a way to travel through the Proxima galaxy to another world.”

“OMIB?” I ask.

The giant beams down at me. “Ah, let me catch Oric up. OMIB, or Orthogonal Matrix Inverse Base, is the technical term for the galaxy that connects all Proxima worlds. It is tethered to the various Proxima worlds and their inhabitants’ digital neuronal autoconstruct system, or D-NAS.”

“I was aware, but thanks for clarifying everything.”

“Glad to help, Oric,” he says. “Also, a friend of mine has spoken extensively about OMIB-porting, so I’m quite familiar with it, and if I may add, keen to know more.”

Sam’s Blueshift wristband materializes on her wrist. “My ship, the Warp Rider, exists in the OMIB, which as you said resembles a galaxy.” She looks at me. “You know, stars and whatnot.”

“I’m aware of what a galaxy is.”

“Good, just double-checking. My ship, and ships like it, travel from Proxima world to Proxima world through the OMIB, the galaxy. We are not able to actually land on most worlds, which is why we use our Blueshifts to port to and from our ship. It is OMIB-porting because we are porting to and from the OMIB.”

“Beam me up Scotty-style?” I ask.

“Yes. There are two types of OMIB-porting. One is world to world, which is what I think you were referring to, Lothar. So I could port directly to Tritania or Steam or Dead City, just examples. There are too many to list by memory.”

“Dead City?” Lothar asks.

“A zompac world.”

“Zompac?”

“Zombie apocalypse, it is a genre that, like vampires, becomes popular once every decade or so.”

“Got it.”

“The other way to OMIB-port is to and from my ship, which is what I’ve invited Oric to do tonight.”

“That’s right!”

Jealousy paints across Lothar’s face. “I want to see a ship.”

“I know you do, but like I said earlier, the Warp Rider isn’t large enough to accommodate you.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll stay here with Wolf, two lonely NPCs.”

Wolf barks in response. He stands, moves over to the seated giant and drops onto the ground before his meditations box.

“You’re a good wolf, Wolf.” Lothar bends over and runs a finger along Wolf’s side.

“You said it was called the Warp Rider?” I ask.

“Yes, that’s her name.”

“Why have you never mentioned that before?”

Sam shrugs. “You never asked.”

“Good point,” I say as I rub my hands together. “So, we doing this or what?”

With a belly full of gifted rabbits, I’m ready for a change of scenario. This gets me thinking of logging out a couple days back, and how bizarre that whole experience was. From meeting Proxy to actually being in my real body. I was desperate then.

Will you ever log out again, Oric?

I ignore the question and grin at Sam. “What do I need to do to port with you?”

She approaches me and holds her hand out in a photo perfect way. I reach out to her, and as our fingers touch, a spiral of light whips up my wrist.

Into a vortex I go, where I’ll stop nobody knows.

Blips of color and balls of lightning rush around me. Gravity reverses, and I’m suddenly traveling in the opposite direction, into a pulsing rabbit’s hole, and from there, a quick right through the crimson sky of the Upside Down.

I open my mouth to scream only to find myself standing in a large, oval room. It’s as if no time has passed at all, as if I’ve always been here.

“Whoa … ” I say as I take in the details of the room, including a bed with silver sheets and cylindrical pillows. The only other furniture in the room is a mod couch, AppleSoft white, a silver coffee table before it, and a southwestern print rug. Floor to ceiling glass walls reveal a star-filled galaxy, the closest planet a tiny sphere in the distance.

“Welcome to the OMIB, Oric.”

I turn to see …

“Sam!”

Not the Sam I know. Sam Raid in Proxima space is a brunette in a sleek flight suit, the popped collar of which has three stripes on its right side. Her flight suit is form-fitting, and the galactic onesie dips into a pair of knee-high combat boots, a blade sheathed at the side of each boot.

“Ramjet, please lower the lighting.”

The lights inside the room flicker off; the glass walls start to glow from the inside. With the stars twinkling in the distance, the vibe of the room suddenly goes from alien to warm and fuzzy.

“It’s nice here,” I say as the relaxing vibe rolls over me.

Sam moves past me and sits on the corner of her bed, both hands out as she leans back. “Too much, Ramjet,” she says and the feeling buzzing through me eases up some.

“You can control the … vibes of the place? And who’s Ramjet?”

“Ramjet is the name of my AI. He can control pretty much anything that happens in the ship.”

“Where to begin?” I ask as I look out at the starry OMIB.

“Where would you like to begin?”

“I have loads of questions.” A hole opens behind me and a floating chair lifts up. “Um, thanks, Ramjet.”

“I did that, not Ramjet. I’m kidding, Ramjet did it. We don’t have to stay for long, by the way, if you are uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s not that! I am definitely comfortable, just a bit intrigued. So are you the captain of this ship, the Warp Rider?”

“Yes, I’m the ‘captain,’ as you phrase it. This is my ship, been with me since 2058. It has, of course, been upgraded heavily since then. And it is now a small part of a fleet known as the Iron Compass. Actually, the oval room you are currently standing in was the lone cabin that originally came with the ship.” She nods to the couch. “That used to be the flight deck right there.”

“And now it’s your private quarters?”

“It is. Everyone that was part of the Proxima Pilot Program received a ship that had about a three hundred square foot interior. Over the years, and through successful missions and smuggling operations, I have greatly upgraded Warp Rider. The flight deck alone is a two thousand square foot space. There are guest quarters, a mess hall, a training gym, a small theater, a weapons depot, and a docking station for other vessels. I try to keep it simple though, at least for my personal quarters.”

“You try to keep it simple?” I laugh and she quickly joins me.

“Well, simple enough.”

I lift my gauntleted arm. “I feel out of place here in my giant slayer armor.”

“Yes, about that. Ramjet.”

I hear a decompression sound over my shoulder. I turn to see that the solid white wall near the couch now has a three-dimensional rectangle pressing out of it. Once the rectangle is all the way out, it glides to the left to reveal a bathroom.

“You are ridiculous,” I tell Sam.

“It’s the 21st century!” she laughs. “Just get in there. Ramjet will take care of everything else.”

“Um, okay. Fine.”

I step into the mirrorless restroom and the door shuts behind me, entombing me completely.

Sam’s sink consists of a single, faucet-less copper bowl which sits on top of a white countertop. My next question is answered when a column of water lifts from the bottom of the copper bowl, defying gravity.

Is this some type of elaborate bidet?

The water stops at about eye level. My clothes fizzle away and the water disappears in a flash, yet my skin is still wet.

A powerful burst of air presses past me I glance down to see a robe taking shape over my nude body, each thread stitching together one by one.

“This is pretty crazy, Sam,” I say aloud, my voice muffled by the sealed chamber.

I feel my hair follicles stand to attention, and as they do, a mirror melts into shape before me.

“Holy shit!”

I’m suddenly clean-shaven, my hair high and tight as a soldier fresh out of boot camp. The door opens behind me and I step out, a confused look on my face.

“What the hell just happened?”

Sam nearly falls over laughing.

“And what happened to my hair?”

“Ha! Ramjet went a bit, um, overboard.”

“And what happened to you?” I ask, just now noticing that Sam is out of her flight suit and in a robe as well.

“I got ready for bed, just like you.”

“Cool, got it,” I say as I approach the bed.

Soft jazz music starts up. Is Ramjet hooking a brother up? I glance up at the ceiling.

“That’s not what this is about, Ramjet,” Sam says aloud. “Change the music.”

Death metal tears out of the speaker and Sam laughs again. “Okay, no music.”

Her AI goes with white noise, a sound similar to putting your head next to a window fan. The sound dies down until it is a low hum in the background.

“So, where were we?”

“We were getting ready for bed,” she says. “For once, you don’t have to sleep under the stars, or using Wolfie as your pillow. Is that okay with you?”

I glance around the place, from the star-filled galaxy outside to her futuristic bed, which looks more and more comfortable by the minute.

“Sounds great to me, but I really wish Wolf was here.”

“Next time. I wanted Wolf to stay in Unigaea so he could keep Lothar company.”

“That’s kind of you.”

“I try.”

I drop down onto the bed and all but sink into the mattress. Sleeping on a cloud is an understatement. Sam’s bed must have cost a fortune.

“So nice,” I say as I spread out.

She moves next to me and lays her head in the nook of my shoulder. “You know, you’re not too bad looking when you clean up.”

“You don’t like my long hair?”

“I do, and it’ll be back when we go to Unigaea in the morning. Well, I should say I like it when it is clean, like when we were in Stater.” She yawns. “That feels like ages ago. It was nice, though.”

“So, um, we’re cuddling then?”

If I put more points in MIND, will I somehow gain the ability to speak to the opposite sex without sounding like an idiot?

“Yes, we are.” To confirm Sam just wants a warm body, she turns away from me and presses her lower half into my side. Her robe filters away and the blanket rolls up to cover her up.

“Everything is automatic here,” I say, just to say something.

Sam yawns. “Night, Oric.”

“Night, Sam.”

Chapter Nine: Tea-scapades

I wake before Sam, expecting a morning sun and a crimson sky; instead, I get a starry galaxy that looks identical to the way it looked last night. To check that it’s morning, I bring up my dashboard and see that, thankfully, the dashboard is the same user interface that it is in Unigaea.

The digitalsundial says morning, and the digital sundial doesn’t lie.

I move away from Sam, slide out of bed, and walk to one of the windows. I can see another part of her ship if I move all the way to the left, but I’m not able to make out much more than that.

The notion to explore strikes me, so I move to the front of her room, expecting a rectangular door to form in the wall.

It doesn’t.

I think about trying “open sesame,” but this thought triggers a memory of a Chinese restaurant near 18th street in Chicago that had a sesame chicken special every Wednesday. Grew up on that shit.

I take a seat on Sam’s couch, my bare feet against her southwestern print rug. I recall her saying she was from Santa Fe, or was it Albuquerque? Never been, but that’s not saying much as I have only been out of Chicago a few times. Why leave Chi-town? I had everything I need.

“Quiet, brain.” I whisper to myself.

I would teleport back to Unigaea if I knew how. Raising my finger, I expect a log point to materialize. I’m sadly mistaken, though, and it doesn’t.

To pass the time, I pull up a map of Unigaea and take a long, hard look at the choke point between the Eastern and Western Splits.

That’s where the battle will happen, and to get around it, we’ll need to keep west, to the foothills of the Western Splits, mainly because of Lothar’s size.

“So a two-day ride,” I whisper as I use my fingers to place markers on the map. The battle will likely have started by the time we arrive. The Obelisk seemed geared up and ready to go.

“Sam,” I say after I’ve played with the markers a bit longer, figuring out the fastest route. “You ready to wake up?”

She stirs and turns to her other side.

“Ramjet, can you make the place smell like coffee? Better yet, can you make us some coffee?” I ask aloud. Figuring my request will fall on deaf ears, I’m taken by surprise when a panel opens up, folds out, and forms a flat tabletop. An espresso machine pixilates on the tabletop, and a shot begins pouring into a tiny cup.

“Well, shit. Ramjet, turn up the lights.”

The room swells with brightness and Sam flops to the other side, her eyes narrowing at me. It is still strange to see her in her other avatar with her long brown hair. Her facial features are set differently as well, but they at least mirror her Unigaean avatar.

“I made coffee, or Ramjet did. Someone did, but at least it was my idea.”

Sam sits up, the blanket pulled up to her chest. I walk the little cup over to her and she takes it.

“I like these little cups.”

“It’s called a demitasse,” she says. “I was once a barista, when I was eighteen, before I joined the Proxima Pilot Program. Surprised I even landed that position.” Sam finishes the espresso. “But enough chit chat, let’s get back to Lothar and Wolf.”

I take one more look around at her sleek room. “I’d love to come back here.”

“We will definitely come back here, after all this is over.”

“Wolf too?”

Sam laughs. “I’ll think about it.”

(^_^)

Our avatars take shape before Lothar and Wolf.

Lothar sits on his meditations box, skimming through an old scroll, and as soon as he sees us, he looks up at us over the lenses of his glasses. Wolf barks like mad, and I hardly have time to realize I’m back in my giant slayer armor before the Tagvornin beast hops into my arms and takes me down, covering my face with licks.

“Easy, boy!” I scratch him behind the ears, and once I get both hands around his head, I start moving his head back and forth, playing with him. He play-bites at me, and soon, we’re rolling around, Wolf barking and snapping at me as we play in the snow.

Once I’m through horsing around with Wolf – odd to put it like that, but that’s indeed what we are doing – I glance over to see Lothar’s curly red hair lightly accented by snowflakes.

The inquisitive giant has already begun grilling Sam about our trip, asking her all sorts of questions about the ship, what we did there, what it is like in her room, and what if the OMIB really does resemble a starry night.

“It does,” she says in answer to his last question, “and I do wish you could go there. You’d enjoy the view.”

“I get a pretty good view from up here,” he jokes. “Anyone want a pastry? I had some for breakfast, fed Wolf too.”

“What I really want is some jerky.” I open the list to find I am completely out. I thought I had a little left, but that’s what I get for thinking.

“We should have gotten some before we left. No worries. I have some.” Sam tosses a sliver of jerky over to me.

Wolf tracks the jerky all the way from my hand to my mouth. He barks, licks his lips, barks again, his big blue-green eyes locked on my hand.

“You already ate. You fed him well, right?”

“Plenty well,” Lothar says.

“You’ll be fine,” I tell Wolf as I finish the jerky. “Okay. So we have two days’ ride to get to where I think will be the best point to try to take out Broken.” I smirk. “My god, the guy’s name is worse than Czech Meyout.”

“Who?” Lothar asks.

“Never mind. Let’s see what we’re working with here.”

Mandrake Flower (6)

Sunset Root (1)

Jatla Root (1)

Wizardous (1)

Karuna Seaweed (5)

Yellow Bonnet (4)

Cinnamon Flower (3)

Aramis Weed (1)

Burn Bush (1)

I make a mental note to get more pinecones.

“You have that look on your face,” Sam says.

“What look?”

“The look of a madman.”

“I’m thinking about making pinecone IEDs.”

“My point exactly.”

I equip the burlap sack of Jatla Root and the Cinnamon Flowers. Dropping to the ground, I lay my cutting board out and start chopping the root. I don’t have much water on me, but the snow will work, so once I have the root and the flowers chopped, I go to the nearest lump of snow I can find and shovel it into a pot.

“That fire still warm?” I ask, even though I can still see some of the embers burning.

“Should be,” Lothar says as he watches me curiously. “You are making some type of tea, yes?”

“That’s right.”

I get the snow boiling and tell Sam to bring me a little more. She does so, and once the pot is nearly full of boiling water, I add the Jatla root and the cinnamon flowers. “This Jatla root is something a merchant gave me on my way to Tin Ingot, after you died,” I tell Sam.

“How could I forget my own death?”

Lothar snorts at this. “Your retorts are golden, Sam!”

I look down at Wolf and I swear he rolls his eyes at me. Good, just so we’re on the same page, I think as I stir the chopped root and the cinnamon flower petals together.

“So this root greatly boosts stamina, but it gives one a killer hangover, and too much of it is a very, very bad thing.”

“So why are you making a tea out of it?” Sam asks, her hands now on her hips. It’s still odd seeing her as an aged Hourglass Mage, especially after just seeing her in her true form, well, true enough form.

“That’s what the cinnamon flower is for, to counteract the bad effects of the root.”

“And you think it will work? Why don’t we use my magic?”

“Pfft! This will definitely do something. Trust me, Sam, herbalism is my medium.”

She laughs. “Your medium? You an artist now?”

“Maybe.” I add what’s left of my yellow bonnet to the boiling mixture. This last part came to me just now, so I’m going with it. The bonnet has healing properties, which may help to counteract the spacey feeling caused by the Jatla root.

I give it a final stir and look to my companions. “Okay, who wants to try it first? Lothar? Wolf?”

Only Wolf comes forward.

(^_^)

“This stuff is crazy!” Lothar the scholarly giant trots along at a good clip. He moves at twice his normal pace, his meditations box rolling on the ground behind him.

“You got him high,” Sam calls over her shoulder. “Wolf too!”

We both are on Wolf’s back, the big Tagvornin canine hopped up on Jatla root as well.

He’s moving faster than he’s ever moved, and even though Lothar’s stride length is longer, Wolf does a pretty damn good job of keeping up with the giant.

The crimson sky above is as foreboding as ever, and the light-heartedness of my group is at odds with the all-out war to come, but that’s two days from now, or at our current pace …

I pull up my map and the blinking icon indicating my position scoots forward. If we stay somewhere in or near the Western Splits tonight, we should be able to reach the back of the Stater encampment tomorrow night.

The corners of my vision pane are a little scratchy, likely due to the Jatla root tea I taste-tested, but I’m definitely not experiencing the same feeling I felt when I traveled from Drachma to Tael with a wolf’s dead body in a cart.

Fuck that trip.

This gets me thinking about higher consciousness and what’s at work behind the scenes of our psyches. I don’t recall putting one and one together and assuming Sam could heal Wolf, yet somehow, without vocalizing it either physically or mentally, I naturally came to this conclusion.

It was probably the Obelisk.

I recall her flaming form and wince. The pyro afflicted give me the creeps, and to think that that’s the form she’s taken for now adds a whole new depth to the battle to come.

In a way, we, or better, the Obelisk, will look like a bad guy. I imagine the battle from the perspective of a southern soldier. They ride north, only to be met by an army of the flaming dead and Metican warriors on horseback. Yikes.

Maybe it is purposeful, I think as we reach a fork in the road. Maybe the Obelisk wants to look like a bad guy, like an evil group of burning zombies, for the intimidation factor, but also to make the next asshole RPC who rides north with an army think twice about his decision.

“Reborn Player Character,” I whisper. I’ve already signed up to be one; pretty much anyone born in the 2050s and onward is signed up to be an RPC. It is a way to live eternally and an RPC isn’t stuck to any one world. They can OMIB-port, as Sam called it, and they can live a number of lives in a number of very different Proxima worlds.

An RPC can also permanently commit to death. This was one thing the Proxima Company put into place when they first created RPCs. While it is a simple toggle to turn final death on, it does require a meeting with a Proxima RPC death representative, who goes over what it means to finally die, and the importance of a will for whatever digital estate the person has built.

Funny to think that I live in a world in which you can’t die.

And I don’t mean Unigaea, I mean the real world. If a person signs up to be an RPC, as soon as they die, all of their experiences and thoughts – recorded on the life chips installed in our heads in the real world – are uploaded to the RPC.

An RPC is an NPC, to be sure, but their D-NAS is built by the real person’s memories and life experiences, so they are just about as adequate of a representative of the living person as we’ll ever be able to muster, which allows for them to interact with loved ones forever.

There have been countless stories used as advertising for the RPC program by the Proxima company that show family members reconnecting with loved ones, be they soldiers who have died, or death caused by sudden accident, cancer or heart disease, old age.

The list goes on.

Humanity has become immortal by way of video games.

(^_^)

“I need to eat something,” Lothar says a few hours later, his cheeks red.

“We can stop and see if any animals, um, run up to us.”

“No,” Lothar says, slightly out of breath. “There’s a roadside diner ahead. I’m craving less gamey food.”

“Where?” I look to the distance, which is mostly covered with trees. While our current terrain is relatively flat, the foliage blocks us from seeing what’s ahead. That is, unless one of us is a giant who can see over many of the trees.

“Not much further. We’ll stop there. This region usually has restaurants friendly to giants due to its proximity to Tael.”

We travel a bit further up the road, and stop once the smell of cooking meat wafts over to me. It isn’t long before we see a fairly decent sized lodge nestled into the forest. There’s outside seating for giants and a mahoosive canvas covering, likely for giants to rest under, as the room inside the lodge isn’t adequate for the big people of Tael.

“Beer?” I ask Sam as we approach the outside seating area.

“Sounds like a plan.”

At the human-sized table, a few weary merchants sit with empty pints in front of them. They’ve already seen that both Sam and I are Player Killers, and while they aren’t quite gawking at us, they do take turns looking each of us over and whispering to one another.

“Don’t worry, we’re not going to kill you,” I tell the merchants.

Sam rolls her eyes. “You sure know how to make an entrance, don’t you?”

“Actually, any of you fellas have some healing potions for sale?” I ask. “Pinecones, too. I need some pinecones.”

Lothar plops down onto the giant picnic table, crosses his arms onto the table, and lays his head onto them. Wolf rests with his head on his two front paws, looking up at Lothar for food that the giant doesn’t yet have.

“Don’t mind him,” I tell the skeptical merchants, “and don’t mind my wolf either. He won’t bite, unless I ask him to.”

One of the merchants, an older man with braided hair, clears his throat. “I have healing potions, pinecones too.”

“Then we’re in business. Sam,” I call over my shoulder, “I need some money.”

Sam approaches, the ends of her robe dancing above the ground. “How much do you need?” she asks, slightly irritated but not irritated enough to slug me.

“That depends on what our good merchant friend here says. So, ten pinecones, and six healing potions. How’s that?”

“One thousand lira,” he says firmly.

“Fuck me, man, I know what a healing potion costs! You guys act like Player Killers are unaware of normal market prices. I could get a couple cases for that amount. I could also check these woods out for pinecones and find a few myself.”

“Then buy your fucking cases and get your ass to the woods, Player Killer,” he says defiantly.

I lift my hand to the hilt of my Splintered Sword just as Sam clears her throat. “We will take it all for a thousand then.”

“Damn, you really just got ripped off,” I tell after she’s collected the goods and we’ve turned away. Sam hands me most of the potions and the pinecones, a devious smile on her face.

“What?” I ask after we’ve returned to our table.

“Counterfeit lira,” Sam whispers.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

“It was on my person when I spawned with my new avatar.”

“How do you know it’s counterfeit?”

“It’s listed as such in my inventory list, but if you look at it, it looks just like normal lira.” She produces a thousand lira note, which features one of the gods of the Rune Lands. My back to the merchants, I look the bill over, keen to find any discrepancies. None found, I hand the money back to her.

“Keep it,” she says.

“Thanks?”

Sam pinches my cheek. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

The lodge turns out to have pretty decent food. Lothar gets the giant platter, which could have a better name yet which totally makes sense after I see just how big the plate is and what it contains: meat, boiled potatoes, extra-large carrots and a hearty soup made of goat milk, turnips, and salt and pepper.

Sam and I have meat and beer, some off-world stuff called Horse Piss, which is better than it sounds. Wolf especially appreciates the collection of bones and discarded organs the waitress brings to him.

Everything is fine and dandy until it comes time to pay, and Sam yet again pulls out her fake money.

Leave it to goddamn Lothar to blow our cover.

“Is that the counterfeit lira you told me about?” he asks loud enough for the fucking waitress to hear him.

“What!?” Sam asks, completely taken off guard. “What are you talking about?”

The waitress, a muscular beauty with a ponytail that stretches well past the small of her back, looks suspiciously from Sam to me.

“Don’t look at me,” I tell her, “the giant is high.”

“High?”

“Do you mean the Jatla root?” Lothar asks. “I believe I am coming down from that.”

The merchants got whiff of our dilemma at the mention of the word “counterfeit.” I don’t know what they’re planning, but three of them have gathered around the one who Sam paid earlier, all now examining the bills she gave him.

“We’d better go,” I say as Wolf comes to my side.

“Not until I get my lira, my actual lira!” the merchant that we reverse ripped off shouts.

“Youth!”

A blast from Sam’s wand causes red bubbles to move and morph beneath the merchant’s skin. His arms start to shrink, as do his fingers, his legs, his head, and soon, he’s a crying infant trapped beneath a heap of robes.

“What the fuck did you do to Donny!?” one of the other merchants shouts. “He’s turned into a big baby … Shit! Someone grab Donny! Let’s get out of here!”

An orc merchant with a severe underbite grabs the robes that once contained adult Donny, ties off one end, and throws it over his back, baby Donny wailing inside. The group of merchants bail, leaving us with one pissed off waitress.

“Lothar,” I say, “pay the lady.”

“I am not the wealthiest giant,” he begins.

“I don’t care what the fuck you are. This is your fault!” I give Sam a look and a nod that says ‘we could just kill her.’ Sam rolls her eyes. “Just a suggestion,” I whisper.

“Lira, or I alert the authorities,” says the muscular waitress.

“Which authorities?” I ask, trying to buy us some time. “Hurry the hell up,” I hiss at the giant, who is now going through his meditations box.

“The Taelian authorities.”

Lothar’s face goes white. “Gadsaa will find out!”

“Just give her some cash, Lothar!”

“I only have Taelian-sized lira,” he says after he finally finds his wallet. “Is this okay?”

“There is a fifteen percent surcharge for using giant currency,” the waitress says, her hands now on her hips as she glares up at the giant. “Another ten percent surcharge for trying to pass a fake currency.”

“Why is there a surcharge on giant money?” he asks.

“Would you like that surcharge to increase to twenty percent?” she asks.

“Heavens no!”

“This is your fault,” I remind Sam under my breath.

“If someone actually had some money … ”

“I had some lira but for some reason I don’t have it anymore. Maybe someone took it from me while I was sleeping. I slept on a public bench the other night, and in a spaceship last night. Great place to get your ass robbed.” I shrug. “Just saying.”

“Here!” Lothar says, handing over a fistful of giant-sized bills. He places the money on the picnic table, counts it again and puts an additional bill on top. “And a little extra for your trouble.”

The waitress raises a single eyebrow at him, and he places another bill on the stack.

(^_^)

“What have you learned from this experience?” I ask Lothar after we’ve left the lodge.

“Using counterfeit lira is a terrible idea.” He stops and polishes his glasses. “What? Is that not the lesson to be learned back there?”

“You need to learn when to say something, and when to shut up. Am I right, Sam?”

Sam sits in front of me, her body pressed into mine. I have a hand around her waist and my other hand on her thigh. Not gonna lie: I like my current position.

“You’re fine just the way you are, Lothar, just be more wary next time.”

“I know, I need to think before I speak. Gadsaa told me that. Tons of times.” He shrugs. “Well, what’s done is done. We need to get as far into the woods as we can before it gets too dark. There are things in these woods attracted to moving objects.”

As it turns out, about the only thing in the wooded area attracted to moving objects are mosquito moths, which are terrible little creatures, about as large as hummingbirds. They are the things nightmares are made of, with their pointed proboscises and their powdery wings.

They come in swarms and there is really nothing one can do about them.

“Got another!” Lothar says as he slaps his leg.

“So gross!” Sam waves one away and I try to swat it out of the air, which is kind of hard while riding on wolfback.

“Let’s just get through this area,” I say over the buzz of the mosquito moths. One already landed and got a bit of blood from an exposed spot on my arm. I can feel the bruise forming now, and as another moth flutters by, I shoot my hand out, catch it, and squeeze.

Instakill!

I laugh and wipe the insect goo on my armored leg. “Faster, Wolf!” I call out.

“There are an uncomfortable number of these creatures for this time of year,” Lothar says as he slaps one that has landed on his forearm. His meditations box squeaks along as it tumbles over rock and root.

“I know you’re tired,” I tell Wolf. “But maybe if we get out of this area … ”

The Tagvornin beast gets the point and starts running faster than he has run in hours. Sam laughs, holding on as tightly as she can, and I hold onto her, because Wolf doesn’t have a saddle and he especially doesn’t have a two person saddle.

I share a little laugh with the voice at the back of my skull.

Wouldn’t that look stupid, a double-saddled wolf.

We tear out of the forest and into a meadow with a small pond and a little shack on its other side, a light on inside. I’m about to suggest we move along when a bearded man with a limp kicks open the door, lantern in hand.

“A giant? Shit!”

[Hermit, level 40]

I get off Wolf, and as I walk over to the man, I think about equipping my Masking Hat. No sense in scaring him, but then again, Sam is a Player Killer too, so he’ll find out at some point. And besides that, one doesn’t become a Level 40 hermit without meeting a Player Killer and surviving a ton of shit.

“I’d clear out if I was you guys,” he says, his accent East Coast all the way. “Damn mosquito moths take over the meadow every night, let me tell ya.”

No quests, I think, we have a timeline.

“Sorry, can’t help you there.”

“Help me? I don’t need help, that is, unless you have some way to nuke the whole goddamn meadow and keep my house here intact. Anyway, Player Killer, I heard some noise, which was likely the giant trotting along, and so I decided to check it out.”

“Great, we’ll be on our way then.”

“But if it is a quest you’re after,” he says, running his fingers through his long and pointy beard, “I bet I can conjure something up.”

“We’re beyond quests at this point,” I say.

“Too high up on the food chain for a quest, are you? Can’t help an old man out?”

“You’re a Player Character, like me. We don’t need a quest. For once, we’re not here to play the game.” I turn my back to him and see Sam, Lothar, and Wolf. The giant is clearly tired. He sits on his meditations box, watching me for any signal.

“You aren’t wrong about that, and I didn’t get to my current level by forcing people to do menial tasks for me. What are you looking for in these parts? A place to stay?”

“No, we need to travel for the rest of the night. If anything, I need a place to brew some tea.”

“Can’t help you there.” He chuckles. “Well, I suppose I could help you, but you’d have to help me monetarily if you get my drift.”

“If it’s money you want,” I clear my throat, “it’s money we have.”

“Good, give me three thousand lira and I’ll cook the tea up for you, quick too, before the mosquito moths appear.”

“Let me talk to my, um, guild banker.”

“The woman monk over there?”

“How’d you know?”

“My house is the same. Mother controls all the money.”

I cringe a bit at his toothy grin. “Mother?”

“It’s what I call my wife. Is that strange to you?”

“Do you have children?”

“No.”

“Animals?”

“No. I’m allergic.”

“Is she older than you?”

“Same age.”

I raise an eyebrow at the hermit. “No, calling your wife ‘Mother’ isn’t strange.”

“Mother only lets me log in after she’s gone to bed.” He points at his temple. “But I got a Somnium skip box. That’s why I’m at such a high level. I really don’t do anything that’s risky. No sense in it. Unigaea is a scary place, but it’s fun, and that’s why I’m glad Mother lets me log in.”

You weird fucker, I think as I walk back over to Sam and give her my biggest, most sincere shit-eating grin. “He’s an old Player Character hermit, and he wants three thousand lira to boil some tea for us.”

“No more tea,” Lothar says.

“Shut up. Also, he calls his wife ‘Mother.’ I don’t know why that is of any significance, but I do think it’s something to be wary of.”

Sam snorts. “Maybe they have children.”

“I already checked.”

“Did you ask if she was older than him?”

“Same age.”

“Animals?”

“He’s allergic.”

“He’s a weirdo.”

“So judgmental you two are!” Lothar sighs miserably. “I’m tired of walking. To be honest with you both, I feel like reading and I wouldn’t mind a conversation, even if the hermit is unorthodox. I suppose most hermits are unorthodox, if you think about it.”

“So three thousand lira, then, Sam, hand it over. And Lothar?” I look up at the scholarly giant, whose oval glasses now rest on the end of his nose.

“Yes?”

“What are you going to tell the hermit about our money?”

“You mean our fake currency?”

I bury my head in my hands as Sam laughs.

Lothar chuckles too. “Don’t worry, Oric, I won’t say anything this time. I’ve learned my lesson: if there is something shady afoot, and I am somehow part of it, any type of verbal confirmation is exceedingly unhelpful.”

Chapter Ten: Skeletal Wolves and the Necromancer that Loves Them

The giant keeps his word, and after the monetary exchange is made, the old hermit brews a most excellent tea. Smells a bit odd, but it’ll get the job done. Lothar chugs his down, grimacing at the taste. Wolf won’t touch the stuff, which means I have to figure out a way to force it into his maw, which I do, and which involves tackling him and holding his mouth open as I pour it in.

For another thousand counterfeit lira, we are given a lamp which provides lighting for Sam, Wolf and I, but not so much for Lothar. It’s a cold night, with some snowfall to boot. Breezy too, and as we travel deeper into the dark forest, I occasionally get a whiff of burning wood.

“There’s no telling who lives around here,” I say just to say something.

Sam yawns and leans her head back, so it now rests on my clavicle.

“Getting tired there, Sammy?”

“We’ve been at it all day,” she says. “Take your gauntlets off; they’re digging into my arms.”

“It’s Lothar and Wolf who’ve been doing all the dirty work,” I remind her.

Wolf skids to a halt, bristles. He barks at the darkness that lies ahead.

Lothar, a few paces behind us, stops and brushes a tree limb out of his path. The giant’s movements are loud, brash, his meditations box skidding on the ground behind him.

It’s a wonder we’ve made it this deep into the woods without stirring up some trouble, which is why I’m not at all surprised when I hear something clack onto the path before us. The light from the lamp isn’t bright enough for me to actually see what has made its presence known, and handles have yet to appear …

“Stay here,” I tell Sam as I get off Wolf. “And hold the lamp.” My blade unsheathed, I keep it at the ready as my eyes adjust to the space before me.

“What do you think it is?” Lothar is answered when a skeletal Tagvornin wolf with flesh hanging from its ribs steps out of the forested gloom.

“Easy,” Sam says as she hops off Wolf. She holds the lamp out at an angle so we can get a better view of the beast.

“This isn’t good,” I say as another mangled, skeletal wolf approaches. Wolf snaps his teeth and barks at the two skeletal mutts.

“Your wolf,” says a scratchy voice says from the blackness before us.

Purple smoke, its outer edges electric, billows up from the ground and a woman steps out, her skin glowing white. Wisps of hair jut out of her head; her eyes are yellow and she’s completely nude, the skin sagging off her bones.

[Necromancer, Level 20]

A skull-topped staff forms in her hand and she holds it before her as more Tagvornin wolves, each in various stages of decay, come forward. They gnash their teeth, and as they do, bits of rotting flesh flick into the air.

The necromancer floats a foot above the soil.

“Your wolf,” she says again, her voice the final gasp of the living. “The rest of you can pass. It is the wolf I’m interested in.”

I glance at Sam just in time to see her lift her wand and cry, “Metastasize wound!”

The whirling pink blast strikes the necromancer and the magic quickly filters away. A horrific smile paints across her face. “Kill them.”

The necromancer’s wolves descend upon us, barking and snapping their teeth together. I keep waiting for Sam’s magic to take effect, for the necromancer’s wounds to kill the devil woman.

“Let me help!”

To my surprise, Lothar stomps by and crushes one of the wolves with his huge-ass foot.

Instakill!

“Shit!” I say, feeling the quake beneath me, the sickening sound of crunching bones meeting my ears. I spring into action, wielding my Splintered Sword like a madman. The light from Sam’s lamp along with the purple electricity coming off the necromancer is paltry at best; most of my swordplay to come is done defensively.

I blindly swing my broken buster sword in front of me hoping to hit something.

-92 HP! Critical hit!

I send one of the skeletal pups sideways just as a terrible pain runs up my right arm. Another wolf has latched onto my hand, its infected teeth digging in deeply as it drags me to the ground.

“Fuck! It’s got my hand!” I start bashing the wolf’s head with the hilt of my sword. -46 HP! -38 HP!

We hit the ground and Wolf tackles the creature, its teeth shredding the skin from my hand as the two roll away.

I cry out in pain, my hand and wrist a clump of flesh and broken fingers.

Stumbling aside, I swipe my sword in front of me and hit a tree, which sends me backwards.

“Oric!” Lothar kicks another wolf; the skeletal terror whimpers as it flies through the air.

I feel Sam reach for my arm and I whip it away from her. “Stay back!” I shout to her. As Wolf engages a pair of skeletal beasts, I sheathe my Splintered Sword and retrieve my crossbow pistol from my list.

“Fuck you, Oric, I can handle myself! Future Encumbrance!”

The reticle appears on the necromancer’s chest and I fire off a shot, only to be blocked last minute by a Tagvornin zombie wolf.

-81 HP!

The zombie wolf recovers and goes for Wolf, its loose hanging jaw snapping wildly. Before it can get a bite in, a blast of pink energy takes out the nightmare creature, Sam’s delayed strike finding its mark.

I fire off another shot, which meets the same fate as the first.

Wolf snarls as he rolls on the ground with one of the skeletal canines, both of them snapping their jaws as they try to get a bite in.

“They’re too fast!”

My crossbow pistol back in my list, I bring my sword back out and wince at the pain in my shredded hand. The digital adrenaline does little to alleviate the injury; I’m lucky the fucker didn’t get my left hand, southpaw that I am, but from what I can tell so far …

Rage.

“No!”

I fall to one knee as a wave of pain burns up my arm. I hear Wolf snarling, gnashing his teeth, the sound of dog feet cutting through the dirt and leaves on the forest floor.

There are too many.

The damn skeletal wolves will overwhelm us if we don’t get a grip on the situation soon.

“Get back, Oric!” Lothar charges forward, the ground quaking as he kicks another dog.

“Chrono Stasis!”

A blistering spark of energy goes from Sam’s wand to the necromancer. The floating hell spawn’s yellow eyes go wide as she realizes that she’s now moving in ultra-slow motion.

The necromancer starts to raise her hand, but everything has been sped down to a snail’s pace, a frozen snail at that.

“Hurry, Oric!” shouts Sam.

I sprint towards the necromancer; a skeletal hound goes for me and somehow misses. The beast skids, and as it is about to make another attempt, Lothar comes in with a kick that sends the maimed mutt sailing into the forest.

My right hand is completely fucked from the bite. Luckily, I’m a southpaw. I bring my Splintered Sword up and over my shoulder, using all my might to cut the necromancer down, who is still in the process of getting her hand up to cast a spell.

Instakill!

The top half of her body goes one way, still in fucking slow motion, while the bottom half goes another. The zombie wolves surrounding us fall immediately, dead as they were when they were raised.

I take a step back, watching in horror as the necromancer’s face moves slowly through the air, her expression of anguish accented by Sam’s lamp. As soon as the top of her torso nears the ground, time – for her anyway – speeds back up.

Her torso bounces to the right, and she lets out one last gasp as her yellow eyes roll into the back of her head.

The pain spreads up my body, filling me with a blistering warm sensation as if I’m being boiled from within.

I go to my knee, try to steady myself, and that’s when I see a big hand reaching for me.

(^_^)

Freezing water from Lake Michigan washes over the shore. The sound of the waves, the spritz of the cold water, the majesty of it all.

I am at home.

A corona of light from a crimson sun does little to warm my skin. My breath visible, I push myself out of the sand and shake the water from my hair.

A series of images flash before me, a time warp of my digital life, and I suddenly stand in the hotel room in Drachma watching as Deathdale explodes. A ghost of my former self, I step aside and my body flies through the wall, to the other room.

Wolf.

The big Tagvornin beast held his ground for longer than he should. He’s now a heap on the floor, a lifeless black mass. I run to him and try to scoop him up.

My hands press through his body and I awaken.

“Where?”

Everything around me shakes. The ground seems miles away, the foliage of the trees brushes across my back. I feel the urge to vomit and I swallow it down.

As soon as I shut my eyes, I’m back in Ducat in my home, the sound of screams and chaos seeping through a crack in the door. I press the door open and step into the street, my eyes trained on a warrior approaching on a black Shire horse.

The warrior reaches me and turns to smoke, his face now that of the female necromancer I recently killed. Muscles barely covering the woman’s cheeks stretch to their breaking point as she shrieks at me.

“Fuck!” I wake up and start kicking my legs. “Stop! Put me down!”

“Relax, Oric.”

The voice belongs to Lothar, and he’s closer to me than he’s ever been before.

You’re flung over his shoulder, Oric.

Get out of my head, Eric.

I swallow hard and try to steady my gaze as I take another deep breath in. I’m suddenly nauseous, what little I have in my belly ready to come up. “Put … me … down,” I tell the giant as a sharp pain rolls up my arm.

“Would you rather I hold you like a baby?”

“I can walk, dammit!”

Sam laughs with a tinge of hesitation in her voice. “Easy, tough guy, you were passed out back there,” she calls up to me. Wolf barks, his tail beating back and forth. He starts to whine anxiously.

“Let me down, Lothar, I’m fucking serious here!”

Lothar takes a knee and slowly sets me down. I take a rough step forward, steel myself, and steady my balance before face planting.

I glance down at my arm and see that it is less shredded than before. That said, it’s still pretty bad off.

Sam approaches, concern painted across her face. “I fed you a healing potion … ”

“... But the wound’s too deep to heal on its own,” I say. “Infected, too.”

“You need to get to a hospital.” Lothar now sits on his wheeled meditations box, his elbows resting on his knees.

“We don’t have time for that.” I pull up my map to confirm that there are two options: go to Tin Ingot or back to Tael. There’s always Metica, but really, fuck that place. I don’t know how keen Lady Desdemona will be to see us again.

“There’s probably a village in the mountains here,” Sam says. “It’s not on the map.”

“How do you know?”

“Something I learned while I was leading the Tangka Militia. If there is a nook or cranny big enough to hide a civilization, however small, someone will hide there.”

“The only thing we’ll find up there are hermits,” I say with a wince. Damn if my arm isn’t on fire. I turn my hand over slowly, the muscles burning.

“There’s another way,” Lothar says. I can’t quite see his face now, only the reflection of Sam’s lamp on his glasses, but I do see him turn and look at Sam.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“There are blank pages at the back of your Book of Time. I’m sure you noticed.”

“I did.”

“I haven’t read the entire translation of the text at the front of the book, but from what I have read, the Book of Time is in a constant state of improvement, a living will of those who have previously owned it.”

My mouth waters and I taste healing potion. Don’t know why it is coming up now, but I swallow hard, keeping it down as best I can.

A look of realization flashes across Sam’s face as she stares incredulously at the giant. “You mean, other Hourglass Mages have come up with these spells and written them down here. Why didn’t you say so before?”

“We moved to another topic! I believe the pages at the back are for new spells.”

“Speed Heal,” Sam says almost immediately.

“No, no,” I tell her, “I don’t want you to take any more risks.”

Sam presses past me. “That isn’t your decision to make. Let’s get to the nearest campsite.” Her face is illuminated as a map comes up. It’s gone before I can clearly see how she’s set her map. “It won’t be much further.”

“But we need to travel all night.” Wolf barks, as if to punctuate my statement.

“We have,” says Lothar. “You were out for a while.”

I quickly access my dashboard to see the sundial at right around five in the morning. Funny that. I can change it to an actual clock – military time too! – but I’m old school, says the guy who has decided to live his life in an online world rather than the world up there.

I smirk at my own bullshit, as we all should do from time to time to remind ourselves just how trivial our lives and thoughts are.

“I didn’t realize I was out for that long,” I finally say.

“Well, you were,” says the scholarly giant, “and it won’t be long until we reach the public campsite. Do you want to walk, or would you like me to carry you?”

“I’ll ride Wolf.”

Chapter Eleven: A New Page in the Book of Time

“Let me help with something,” I say once we reach the campsite, which is situated on a small plateau about twenty yards from the makeshift road. The trees in this part of the Western Splits dip into the road, vines hanging from limb to limb.

Poor Lothar has had a hell of a time moving through the terrain, but he hasn’t complained any about it, nor has he said anything about carrying me or any vexations he may have experienced.

“Relax.” Sam yawns and stretches her arms over her head. “The day is young.”

“Really, Sam, let me help out. I can hunt, um, move things around.”

“Move things around?” Sam laughs as Lothar sits, using the plateau as a back rest. The big giant yawns loudly, and not a few moments later, he’s snoring.

Wolf moves next to me after I’ve sat, and rests his head on my lap. He looks at my injured arm and back to me.

“Don’t worry, boy,” I tell him as I read the side of the potion. “Cherry Apollos, huh? Heard of this brand?” I ask Sam.

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Must be off world.” I take a little sip and nod. “Fuck, it’s pretty good.”

+96 HP!

Sam crouches next to me and examines my arm. As she lifts it, a frown forms on her face.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her, “I’ll be okay. Just need to drink more potions. Maybe I’ll do some scavenging for an herb that can take care of this. At least until after we deal with Broken and Florin Talonas.” I shake my head. “This is stupid, you know. We’re riding south when the real problem is north.”

“You can’t fight a source code bomb,” she reminds me.

“Clearly, but there must be something I can do. The Obelisk wouldn’t have chosen me if that wasn’t the case. She wouldn’t give me this.”

I place my hand on my chest, over my scar.

Last Warrior.

“It says Last Warrior,” I tell her, “that’s what it says.”

“I know. And I wish she hadn’t given that to you. It’s gone to your head.”

I wave her concern away and start petting Wolf. He stares at me longingly with his blue-green eyes, my biggest fan.

“He’s a good dog,” I say, trying to change the conversation.

“A good dog with a stubborn owner.” Sam’s Book of Time materializes before her and she turns to one of the blank pages.

“Sam, I told you no.”

“And I told you it’s not your choice. I want to make a contribution to this book, and this is the contribution I’ll make. Now, rest, cuddle your puppy, close your eyes, and think about whatever it is you think about when your eyes are closed.”

“Lots of things,” I tell her. “I think about lots of things. Chicago, Unigaea, past experiences, plans – I’m human, all these things are part of me.”

“Good, do that, human.”

“Sam.”

“Oric.”

“Cyn.”

“Eric.”

I laugh. “Fine, do what you will.”

“I always do.”

With that, Sam turns away from me, her Book of Time open in her lap. She skims through a couple of pages, her eyes flickering across the text.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I scratch Wolf behind the ears with my good hand and he presses his head even further into my lap, as if he’s trying to melt into me. He’s warm, and his warmth and companionship remind me of just how amazing this NPC animal is.

You’re just an NPC, I think as I continue to pet him. His eyes closed, he snuggles up even closer.

But you’re so real.

And at that thought, I start to tear up. How can this be fake? I look from Wolf to my bitten up arm.

It’s all so goddamn real.

“Such a good dog,” I tell Wolf, suddenly coming to a conclusion I’m hardly able to internalize. In here, you’re real and I’m fake, I’m the NPC, I’m the alien being. You live here. If I log out, you’re here. If I die, you remain.

I drop my head onto his, ignoring the pain of my arm, smelling his fur, feeling his warmth.

Sam presses her palm into the blank pages of her Book of Time, her eyes closed, a faint halo of pink light forming at the back of her head. Ink takes shape on the pages of the book, swirling from blotch to defined character.

Her hourglass necklace begins to glow, light radiating off it as her hands tremble, as the ink dries.

Suddenly spooked, Wolf stands and barks, his tail beating in agitation.

“Sam … ” I start to say.

She gasps, I hear the glass of her hourglass necklace crack, and I watch in pitiful silence as a grey streak appears in her hair.

Her head collapses forward and she starts to shake.

“Sam!” I shout, barely able to contain myself. I lunge for her, oblivious to my injured hand. I catch her as she falls, and pull her into me.

“Oric,” she whispers, her voice no more than a whisper.

“Just rest,” I tell her, hating myself, hating her avatar, hating the goddamn mechanics of Unigaea, a world that lets you die, a heartless cruel place not unlike the world up there.

The place I call home.

“Just rest,” I say again. “I don’t need to heal for now.”

(^_^)

I awake, my mangled hand over Sam’s body. We’ve been asleep for hours, hours which have passed like seconds.

My HP is two hundred points lower than it was just a short while ago. There’s sweat on my forehead, I feel a fever coming on, and I can tell by looking at my purple and blue arm that things will get worse before they get better. The infection is spreading.

Sam.

Even though it pains me, I pull her in closer.

“Oric, it’s fine,” she says softly. “Don’t feel … ”

“Don’t feel what?”

She turns to me and sits up. “Don’t feel whatever it is you’re feeling. Don’t project, don’t feel guilty. Let’s get you healed up. I hate to say this, as cliché as it sounds, but I was put in this online world for a reason.”

I stare into her eyes for a moment, a smile forming on my face. Wolf interrupts our moment with a short little bark. He’s on his feet now, watching as Lothar gets something out of his meditations box. It is late afternoon and the sun has begun its descent.

“You two done snuggling over there?” Lothar asks. “I miss snuggling. Gadsaa was a good snuggler.”

“Snuggling?” I shake my head at the giant. “We were cuddling, pal, big difference.”

He snorts. “I believe those words share similar meanings.”

“Time to heal up,” Sam says as her book pixelates into her lap.

“Do you need to read the recipe or something?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes at me. “No, just admiring my handiwork. It feels good to contribute to something. As for my necklace, the damage is done. Now, shut up and take your medicine. Maybe next time you’ll remember to wear your gauntlets.”

“I took them off at your request!”

Sam points her wand at me.

“Sure you can’t just cast Youth on me or something, make me more handsome instead? Or is it handsomer?”

“What part of ‘shut up’ do you not understand, Oric? Keep up the bullshit, and I’ll cast Future Encumbrance on you. Now, Speed Heal!” Sam closes her eyes and a pink light zips from her wand to my chest.

We both look at my arm and see the wound start to stitch up, fresh flesh boiling over the lacerations in my skin. I’m still scarred when it’s done, and the new skin is fresh pink, as if I’ve had a skin graft, but as I turn my arm before me, it is abundantly clear that I no longer need to visit a hospital.

“Thanks,” I tell her as I stretch my fingers before me. Everything is back to the way it was just a few hours ago. I feel stronger now, better than ever. I pull up my stats:

Oric Rune

Class: Level 15 Player Killer

Subclass: Level 4 Herbalist

INFAMY: 55 Players killed

HP: 1533/1945

HP recovery rate: 3% per minute

ATK: 218 +90

DEF: 196 +97

Attributes

STRENGTH: 14

WILL: 13

DEXTERITY: 13

MIND: 11

SPEED: 14

“That was amazing,” Lothar says, his oval glasses on the bridge of his nose as he gazes down at us. “Chronomancy is so cool!”

(^_^)

Food comes thanks to the Obelisk; we chow down on rabbits and a wild hog larger than Wolf. I do the cooking – it is, after all, one of my trade skills – and Lothar and Sam do all the talking. For the most part, Wolf does all the lip licking until the food is ready, and that’s after giving him all the parts that people won’t eat.

“I just wish I could come with you all,” Lothar says as he picks something out of his teeth. There is a stain on the front of his robes, the fatty oil from a sliver of meat. I point it out to him and he shrugs. “I always get left behind.”

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” I tell him, “and I don’t want to be accused of any sort of discrimination against giants, heightism, or whatever the hell you call it. But you’re going to get in the way. Trust me there.”

“I can be helpful.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, but what we are trying to do here is a sneak attack. It’s the only way. The Arcane Mage–”

“Broken.”

“Fuck that name. The Arcane Mage is at level 80. The only way we’ll kill him is by doing so in a clandestine way, likely involving Sam’s magic.”

Sam nods. “He’s right, Lothar. I just don’t know what I’ll be able to cast on him.”

“We could try the Metastasize Wound angle,” I suggest. “I try to peg him with an arrow, you follow up.”

She shakes her head. “I think that ship has sailed.”

“You two, three, need me,” Lothar says again. “I can provide some support. I can knock stuff over. Their tents, their catapults, trebuchets. Whatever else they may have.”

Wolf comes up to me, a hungry look in his eyes. “You’ve already eaten,” I remind him. “Lothar, I know you could help with that stuff, but remember, we’re not trying to support the Obelisk in her war with Florin Talonas, we’re trying to get the First Artifact, and to do so, we need to kill Broken and take the scepter from his dead body. In and out.”

Sam rubs her temples and wipes her hands across her face. “Memory Rot. I should try to hit him with that. He’ll forget all his spells and you can swoop in and kill him.”

“Not a bad idea, Sam, but doesn’t that come with some caveat?”

“Shit, you’re right. I need to be a higher level than the enemy, otherwise my chances of the spell working decrease.” Sam sits cross-legged and opens her Book of Time. She flips to a page defined by a series of ink scribbles. “There’s also Chrono Stasis, same thing we did with the necromancer.”

“But if you cast that, I have to be close enough to kill the guy.”

“That you do.”

“Which may be hard, especially if this goes down how I think it’s going to go down.”

“What do you mean?” Lothar asks me.

“I’ve been in more wars than I’d care to admit. The chaos is all-consuming. You can find a rhythm to it all, a pattern even, but it’s still entirely unpredictable, which is why I don’t want to bank on getting in a shot on the mage.”

“There’s Arcane Tide.” Sam stops on a page with script written vertically.

“Why is it vertical?” I ask. “I mean, the writing.”

“Another mage wrote it. I don’t know why they wrote it vertically, and I really don’t know much about the others, aside from what’s written at the front of the book.”

“Why Arcane Tide?” asks Lothar.

We’re still on the plateau at the edge of a small forest. Wolf rests in front of the giant, who stands on the ground below. The plateau is at Lothar’s knee level, and as he peers down at us, he slowly lowers his big finger and pets Wolf with it.

“Broken may have had some trauma in his current avatar, or a past avatar. It’s a longshot, but it may work.”

“Try your Obelisk’s Gaze spell,” suggests Lothar. “See if you can sense anything.”

“Good call, Lothar.” Sam’s eyes close and a pink teardrop appears on her forehead. She lifts her wand to the bright flash of magic on her forehead, slows her breath, and with a flick of her wrist, she takes the shimmering tear of magic from her forehead.

Resembling a Japanese teardrop cake, the magic floats before her now, casting a small amount of light onto her face.

Sam gazes at the floating teardrop for a moment, a curious look painted across her face.

“What’s it say?” I ask.

“It doesn’t say anything,” Lothar corrects me. “What do you see, Sam?”

“It’s hazy at best, but I believe Arcane Tide will work. It will at the very least take Broken down. I see him floating in a pyramid of magic. This will ground him. But we will still need to kill him.”

“And how will we do that?”

She raises an eyebrow at me. “The same way we’ve done it in the past.”

“You two are cryptic!”

I nod, totally appreciating Sam’s gaze. “So there will be some chance involved after all, huh?”

“On the kill, yes, but I can ground him.”

“And I can kill him.”

Wolf barks, emphasizing my last statement.

“And you’re certain he’ll be floating?” asks Lothar.

Sam laughs. “What kind of douchey OP mage isn’t floating?”

Chapter Twelve: An Orc Pisses Himself and Thus Begins a Preemptive Strike

No distractions this time around, and thankfully, no fucking necromancers. Our trip from the campsite towards the battle is relatively conflict free, aside from a point where Lothar stepped on a giant thorn bush. And how do I know exactly where the battle is set to take place?

The map on my dashboard. Cheating, I know, but purity of play doesn’t always trump the practicality of necessity.

Most battles aren’t announced through notices, unless you’ve opted in to be notified of actions taking place in and around a certain area, akin to a GoogleFace alert. However, a battle between what seems like the north and the south, but in actuality is the game’s flaming zombie of an AI versus a zealous asshole of an RPC – that’s the kind of battle that people come out for.

It’s approaching night now and the sky still has its crimson tinge, evidence that something much bigger is taking place up north. We’ve moved down the sloping hills that surround the Western Splits, through streams, across meadows, over a hill and through the woods. The forest is still thick, but the trees have thinned out to some degree.

We’re over a mile away from the battle, but I can already see the afflicted on the horizon, a great fire blazing in the distance. I can’t make them out individually, but several thousand burning men and women lined up can be seen for miles around from the right vantage point.

Lothar confirms this with his monocular. He also confirms there are Meticans gathered as well as other groups.

“That should do it.” I finish making my last magnolia pinecone IED, and hand it to Sam to examine. She’s checked out each cone, just to be sure that I’ve made them correctly.

Which is an insult, because I am the sole inventor of the pinecone IED, and if there’s one thing I’d like to be remembered for, it’s that!

“This one looks good.” She tosses it back to me.

“Where should I be?” Lothar asks. “That’s one thing we haven’t covered.”

The giant sits on his meditations box, a curious look on his face. Talk about a burden – he carries that damn box, which is about the size of a compact car, everywhere he goes. I recall my meditations box from a previous avatar, back when I was a scholar in Solidus. It mostly stayed in my quarters.

“Like I said before, Lothar, you should be as far away from the battle as possible.”

“Don’t be rude to him,” Sam says.

“Nothing rude about it. The battle will be grueling and violent, even if we’re trying to do what we need to do tonight, before it starts. If he doesn’t need to be part, it’s better to be far away.” The wind carries the sound of screeching griffins to us. “Case in point. There will be aerial attacks as well.”

“How do you know the battle will start tomorrow?” Lothar asks.

“A hunch. Any military leader in Unigaea would try to avoid a night battle with the pyro afflicted.”

“The Obelisk may move on them,” Sam says as she gets off Wolf’s back. She stretches her arms over her head, and rolls her neck on her shoulders.

“Getting sleepy, Sam?”

“Hardly.”

“And to answer your question, I’d bet your counterfeit lira the Obelisk makes her play tonight. Now, let’s talk about your teleportation magic.”

“You mean Time Skip?”

“Yes.”

Sam bites her lip as she thinks. “I can only move half a mile or so into the future, which is odd, as it isn’t exactly the future, but the future of my potential trajectory. I can move shorter distances as well, but I believe that’s the furthest I can travel.”

“What’s stopping you from teleporting, recharging, and teleporting again?”

Sam looks at me like she wants to punch me.

“What?”

“Very good question, Oric!” Lothar looks at Sam and shrugs. “I’m not being facetious, you know.”

“I didn’t think of that,” says Sam, clearly upset with herself for not thinking of it earlier. I suppose that is the problem with always competing with yourself, sometimes you lose no matter what you do. Or something.

Dammit, MIND, shut up.

“It is theoretically possible,” Lothar adds. “And rather than walking this entire way, we should have traveled like that. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that!”

“I can’t believe I did.”

He laughs jovially. “I agree, I can’t believe you did as well, Oric.”

I look to Wolf for support and he yawns.

“You’re going to need to wake your ass up, Wolf, we’ve got a long night ahead.”

He lays down, his back to me, his tail flopping against the ground.

“Let’s try it then.” Sam touches my arm. Her wand appears in her hand and a wisp of pink magic spirals around its tip.

One pink flash later and we stand about fifty feet away, looking back at Lothar and Wolf.

“Holy … ”

Wolf barks and trots in our direction. With her hand on her wand, Sam waits for the sand to trickle to the other side. Wolf reaches us, and as he does, Sam whispers the incantation and boom! We are fifty feet further from where we just stood.

“It works!” I say, Wolf barking madly now as he chases after us. “And as an aside, this is a great way to play with Wolf.”

Sam examines her hourglass and frowns.

“What?”

“It’s warm, not piping hot or anything, but warm enough that I think we should let it cool down before trying again. I believe I’m ready to try to send us further away.”

“That’s fine,” I tell her as I place my hand on her shoulder. “As long as it gets us there, we can take our time.” I bite my lip and consider my next words carefully. “And as long as it gets us away, because that’s the next obstacle, getting the hell out of there with the First Artifact once we’ve killed Broken.”

Wolf reaches us, panting now.

“I have spells for that too, for retreat.”

“Good, because if there is a fan in Unigaea, shit is about to hit said fan.”

Sam nods. “Wolfie, come over here.” She drops as he approaches and runs her fingers behind his ears. “You’re not going to like this, buddy.”

The ground shakes and we turn to see Lothar approaching us.

(^_^)

Sam and I get on Wolf’s back, Sam’s wand at the ready. The scholarly giant stands behind us with his hands clasped together and his chin held high. He’s still upset about the perceived injustice of keeping him here, but really, it’s safer this way, and the logical part of him must know that.

“And we’ll be able to travel using Time Skip once you get back?” Lothar asks. “To the Rune Lands?”

Sam lowers her wand, and thinks it over. “There was nothing in my book that said anything about the number of objects or the size of the objects that I can transport. Just as long as I’m touching them. But still, I’ll need recharge time.”

“Fine,” he says, kicking at the dirt. He drops onto his meditations box. “I’ll be here waiting.”

“I’ll bring you a trophy from the fight. How’s that sound?”

“A trophy?”

“Yeah,” I tell him, “the First Artifact. Let’s go, Sam.”

“Bye guys,” says Lothar as he kicks his feet at the dirt.

A pink flash later and the three of us are half a mile closer to enemy lines. Sam immediately drops her free hand to Wolf’s head and pets him softly. “It’s okay,” she tells him, “just relax.”

I can tell by the movement of his muscles that he is anything but relaxed. “You’ll be fine,” I say, “just a few more trips. But let’s rest for five minutes or so.”

I get off Wolf and offer Sam my hand. Once she gets down, Wolf quickly runs to the right and starts to dry heave.

“So the dog doesn’t like water, and he doesn’t like teleportation magic. Anything else he doesn’t like?” Sam asks.

“He doesn’t like fuckboys, but you and I both know that there’s nothing either of us can do about that.”

“Fuckboys? Is that a Chicago word or anachronism?” She places her hand on her hourglass necklace and smooths her fingers over the cracks. The sky is clear, and while it is dark, its crimson color paired with a brighter than normal moon gives everything an infrared glow, including Sam’s face.

“I don’t know where I heard that word. Maybe a goblin.”

She laughs. “So you hang out with goblins now?”

“Not yet.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means I have no idea where my digital life will take me five or ten years from now. Hell, by 2075, I may be in a guild with a goblin. There’s no telling.”

“You’re exhausting, Oric.”

“Good, let’s rest then. How about your place? Is the Warp Rider Hotel open for business tonight?”

She laughs. “Yeah, it’s open, if, and only if, we make it through this mission.”

“And Wolf can come?”

“Who will keep Lothar company?”

“His scrolls and books can keep him company. If he were from our world, he could just dive to a Proxima world to pass the time.”

“Be nice to Lothar.”

“I’m kidding. I actually really like him, when he’s quiet.”

“Which is never.”

“And when he helps us in combat.”

“Which is rare.”

“But he’s getting better. At least he hasn’t rattled off about being a pacifist recently. You ready?”

She nods. “Let’s do this.”

Sam stands next to Wolf and places her hand on his shoulder. I place my hand on hers, and with another pink flash, we’re standing only about a quarter mile away from the Stater war camp.

Just seeing the Stater banners and knowing Florin Talonas is somewhere in the mess of those gathered boils my blood. But avenging Deathdale is a foolhardy plan, and I’ve learned firsthand the pyrrhic aftermath of revenge.

So I swallow my desire to see to Florin’s end.

“What are you thinking about?” asks Sam.

“I’m just remembering some stuff.”

“Okay, vague. But that’s fine. You ready to get changed?”

With the snap of my fingers, I’m out of my Giant Slayer armor and in my Stater gear. Sure, the griffin emblems have been buffed out, but it’s night and the odds of someone seeing this fact or caring about it are slim.

“I’m glad we agreed not to try the prisoner route again,” Sam says, “even though you suggested it.”

“Hey, it worked in Tangka, why wouldn’t it work here?” I shrug her off. “Anyway, nothing’s odd about our current infiltration plan. Just a handsome Stater guy with his Tag and his main squeeze?”

She cringes. “Main squeeze?”

“I thought we were going with the you’re-my-mage-girlfriend act if anyone asks.”

“Main squeeze just sounds gross.”

“What about mage squeeze? That has a ring to it.”

“Even worse.”

“Fine, you’re right. Actually, I have no idea why people used to say main squeeze.”

“You’re all about anachronisms tonight.”

“I guess I’m feeling nostalgic,” I tell her as we walk to the camp.

We’re far enough behind enemy lines now that I don’t believe we’ll have any trouble, at least I hope not. That’s another thing we’ve agreed to do – keeping it as casual looking as possible – which is why I’m going for the light banter as we approach the encampment.

We pass our first soldier, an orc in tight Stater armor. The brute has a face full of warts, an overbite the best dentist in the world would have little hope of correcting, and pierced, cauliflower ears.

[Orc, Level 6]

He eyes us for a moment as he whips out his pecker. As he pisses, a jagged smile forms on his face, especially as he takes Sam in.

I feel her hand lightly fall on my arm.

Behave, Oric.

I’m trying to, I tell the voice in my head.

“Fancy night to take a piss,” says the orc, his stream of piss like that of a horse. “Wouldn’t mind giving your lady there a golden shower.”

Easy, Oric.

Sam’s wand materializes in her hands and she whispers, “Chrono Stasis.”

The orc is suddenly frozen in time; even the arc of piss streaming from his dick is completely stationary.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Sam laughs. “I don’t want to get that close to it.”

“I’m wearing gauntlets, so it really doesn’t matter.”

“Hurry then, and no more bullshit like this after. We’re too close to the camp.”

“Completely agreed, but this will be worth it.”

Wolf watches me curiously as I step over to the orc and angle the hand holding his pecker up, so his healthy stream of piss will now reach his face. I move back over to Sam, and after a very awkward thirty seconds, time speeds up for the orc.

“Fuck!” he shouts as his own piss sprays into his mouth. He curses more as he tries to get his dick under control.

Sam and I move on, huge smiles on both of our faces, the orc too distracted with pissing in his own face to give a shit about us any longer. Once we reach the edge of the camp, I can’t help but laugh out loud. “Damn, I really, really wish we had thought to use your magic for pranks earlier on.”

“There will be plenty of time for pranks later, I hope.”

Wolf snorts.

“He thinks it was funny too.”

I stare into his big blue-green eyes hoping for some indication that he understands the practical joke we just played.

“I don’t know if he’s that smart.”

“If we had more time to level, I’d put all his points in MIND, and he’d be as chatty as Lothar by the end.”

“That’d be interesting,” Sam says, as we pass a campfire with soldiers sitting around it.

Two great cauldrons rest on their sides next to the campfire, and by the way the soldiers sit, their bellies extended and their armor off, I’d say Florin is getting these men ready for a long day tomorrow.

No one gives a shit about us, which is music to my ears. We hardly elicit a glance as we move deeper into the camp, passing tents of varying sizes.

“Pardon,” Sam calls over to a Player Character with the top portion of his armor unequipped. “We’ve just arrived from Tin Ingot. Is there a camp map?”

“You didn’t get the prompt?” he asks, not the least bit suspicious.

“We were wondering about that,” I say. “I figured it’d be automatic.”

With a wave of the man’s hand a prompt appears and Sam accepts it. “Great,” she says. “And thanks!”

“Wait, where did you guys say you were from again?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

“Tin Ingot.”

“And you just now joined the war party? Tin Ingot was nearly destroyed two days ago.”

My heart sinks as I remember the gnomes, Arun and Chantrea. I hope they made it out, and something tells me they did.

“Of course we remember,” Sam laughs him off. “We were there! Came from Mohar to join that battle, but we stuck around for a little bit, just to see if there were any Player Characters we could pick off.”

“Okay,” he says, slowly backing away. “It was more brutal of a battle than I thought it would be, but it was necessary.”

“Yes,” I agree, gritting my teeth. “Necessary to see Talonas’ plan to completion.”

The soldier shrugs. “Still, women and children. A lot were caught in the crossfire.”

“They’re only NPCs,” Sam says with a tone of cruelness to her voice that I know is fake, yet sounds completely convincing.

Wolf growls and I place my hand on his head.

“Don’t mind him. He’s one of the new wolves; still getting used to being this far south,” I say.

“Aye, I’ve seen that happen with the Tag wolves. They are quite stubborn.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty stubborn, but not as bad as some of the others.”

The man steps away. “Well, good luck tomorrow.”

“Same to you.”

And just as I say this, a fiery explosion ignites the front of the camp.

We all turn right to hear screaming. While I can’t see burning people yet, the flicker of flames in the distance and the way people now run towards us shouting “pyro afflicted!” can mean only one thing.

Just as Sam predicted, the Obelisk has gone for a preemptive strike.

(^_^)

“Kill them all!” Someone should shout it, and since Stater’s finest are running around like a bunch of pussies, I figured that someone should be me. “Kill them all!” I scream again. Besides, the more distractions the better.

Sam laughs as I brandish my Splintered Sword. “My turn. To the north! Kill them all!”

Wolf barks madly in the direction of the battle, not smart enough to realize that those are our people over there. At least I hope they are. Truth is, I’m not certain that the afflicted will distinguish us from their enemies, and I’m sure that the Meticans riding on their little ponies – once they do reach us – won’t give a fuck either way.

Stater forces, NPCs, RPCs, and Player Characters alike start to move past us, some of them still in the process of equipping their armor. The afflicted are hard as hell to kill, and the psychological aspect of having a flaming zombie descend upon you is hard for many to handle.

I wouldn’t be surprised if those that are able to log out do once they see what the fire is all about.

“This way!” Sam shouts.

I whistle for Wolf and Sam drops her hand, catches mine, and for a moment, we run through the soon-to-be battle like two little school kids in love.

I let go and leap over a barrel that has been knocked over. We need perspective, a vantage point, and I can tell by the way the tents span in the distance that they slope up a hill.

I point towards it, and Sam and I advance on the hill.

The Stater military has set up a lookout on this hill, as it is the highest point on the battlefield. Men with industrial-sized spyglasses observe the battle, and make notes on charts. The area is well lit by lanterns affixed to high poles, and a table with a map on it has been erected at the back of the lookout.

Once we’re near the men, I turn and try to get a sense of the battle.

Just as I predicted, the right side of the battlefield is all fire, and upon closer examination, I can see the fires reflecting off the polished armor the Stater soldiers wear. Trebuchets are being rolled out, and I can barely make out the outlines of warrior women on horses, moving south and west with the hopes of flanking the ambushed Staters.

“See anything unusual?” I ask Sam.

A trebuchet fires, the rock smashing into a pile of approaching afflicted. Their flames fan out, but unless one is directly under the rock, the eternally burning corpses press forward.

I hear the griffin’s screech and look left, watching as one lifts into the air.

“It’s Talonas,” I say, even though the man riding the griffin isn’t fully clear to me. I can see his cape though, and my gut tells me it’s him.

Sam shakes her head. “That’s not who we’re here for, much as I’d like to kill him as well.”

“Got it, I know.” Deep breath in and I clear my throat. “But if he’s going out to play, Broken likely isn’t too far off. Let’s keep an eye on him. Better yet …” I move to the top of the hill and ask one of the observers for a spare spyglass. He obliges, and I bring it back down to Sam. “It’s amazing what wearing this armor can do.”

I take a look through the spyglass, and while it is a bit hard to make out, I can definitely tell that the man now hovering above the battle is Florin. Red cape? Check. Flowing blond hair? Check. Commanding gestures? You got it. I’m too far to get a reading on his handle, but it’s definitely him.

Come on, I think as I scan the area, looking for any sign of a high powered mage. My sign comes in the form of a dragon made of light, which appears seemingly out of nowhere.

A triangle filled with sigils forms around the dragon as it zips towards the front line of the afflicted.

“It’s Broken,” I tell Sam, “and the motherfucker has a dragon.”

Chapter Thirteen: Breaking Broken

Before I ask Sam to teleport us closer to Broken and his dragon, I take all of two seconds to reflect on the oddity of our current situation, how we’ve gone from heading north to see about the Red Plague, to an assassination mission bequeathed to us by the world’s NVA Seed.

My how shit changes.

I reach out for Sam’s arm and she touches Wolf. One pink flash later and we’re much closer to the action, Broken and his dragon of light circling above us.

Stater soldiers work on making perimeters, which makes me think that Florin Talonas is near.

Not our target, I remind myself.

A few of the afflicted have made their way to this part of the camp. The burning zombies shriek and bat their hands at a guild consisting of rogues and thieves. The cliché guild members use their speed to avoid the attacks, but the afflicted have strength in numbers, and soon one of the rogues has fire burning off his body.

“Give me some of your throwing knives,” Sam says. “Just in case.”

“Good call.” I hand her two blades and she pockets them. The afflicted move away from us, their bodies lighting the tents as they pass. In their wake are the guild of rogues, all of whom writhe as flames overtake them.

Gruesome.

“Oric.”

Wolf barks, also an attempt to get my attention.

“Sorry. The afflicted. They get to me every time.”

“Ignore them and get into position,” Sam tells me, taking charge.

“You stay on Wolf. If anything happens, I want you to be able to get out of here.”

A group of Stater soldiers riding wolves tear past us. Their wolves bark and snarl, the riders clearly a tier above some of the fighters we saw logging out earlier. As it does in all battles, the air has an electric feel to it, a kinetic energy.

“Oric!”

An NPC Stater soldier wielding a buster sword lunges for me, somehow recognizing we don’t belong here; I just barely manage to get out of the way in time.

I flourish my blade out of habit and go to meet him, not certain how he recognizes me, but knowing that now isn’t the time to stick around and try to get to the bottom of his sudden realization.

[Stater soldier, level 14]

He swipes his blade at me, I duck, and I charge forward with the three prongs of my broken sword aimed at his gut. They won’t pierce his Stater armor, so I pivot left at the last moment and swing my blade with my right hand, connecting with an exposed portion of his neck.

-83 HP! Critical hit!

He falls, blood squirting out of his wound. I kick his helmet off, and he looks at me with ice blue eyes.

“Please, don’t!”

Instakill!

Wolf leaps to meet another approaching soldier.

The big Tagvornin canine takes him down and goes for his patented ‘maul the guy to death’ method, his big jaw around the guy’s throat.

-52 HP! -36 HP! -43 HP!

Wolf keeps at it until the man’s neck snaps like a carrot.

Instakill!

Fwhooom!

A fireball tosses me backwards.

My fuck am I lucky that the brunt of the fireball hit my chest plate, or I’d be needing another skin graft right about now. I fly into a tent, and from there, I hit a cot and tumble over, now wrapped in the tent and constrained by the cot.

The ends of my hair burn and I pat them out; I can suddenly smell charcoal, ash. My hands on my chest plate, I wipe away what’s left of the fireball, nothing more than a blackened residue.

Ignoring the twirling stars spinning around my head, I sit up, and in an instant, I’m in my Jagraj the Giant Slayer armor.

Cover’s blown anyway, I think as I push my way out of the collapsed tent. A flaming catapult falls in the distance, sending sparks into the air.

The crimson sky above is cloudy now, the large explosions reflecting off the bottom of the clouds and making the sky even more sinister than it already is.

I can hear the screech of a griffin; Talonas is near, but for now he’s busy engaging the afflicted. A Metican blasts by on her tiny horse, the woman’s blonde hair beating behind her as she rides standing up in the stirrups.

The Metican shouts at the top of her lungs, her war cry that of a coyote.

I spot the Pyro Mage that just tried to level me with a fireball. Before I can so much as lift my Splintered Sword, a lightning bolt of pink magic strikes her down.

Sam gives me a thumbs up, and I press forward, noticing the weight change of my recently equipped armor. While it appears bigger and bulkier, it is actually quite light, and as I move to meet the next Stater soldier – an orc with a helmet made of bone – my armor has me feeling like I’m floating on air, a bounce to my step if there ever was one.

Our weapons meet, his a long sword, and tricky bastard that he is, the orc ducks and forces me forward. He comes up with a small axe and strikes me in the side, my armor deflecting the brunt of his attack.

Splintered Sword in hand, I punch him in the face, still holding the hilt, which must feel like being struck with a pair of brass knuckles.

-112 HP!

The orc stumbles backwards. I kick him in the side of his knee and his legs buckle.

-16 HP!

He falls, his grip loosening on his weapon, just as three Meticans on horseback scissor past.

The women are aimed at something in the distance, and pay me little mind as they gallop by, their weapons at the ready and the war cries accompanied by the bray of their horses.

“Arcane Tide!” Sam gets my attention with a wave of her wand, the tip of which is sparking with pink chromatic magic.

I don’t know why Sam has chosen pink for her magic color, and I recall her having the same color when she was an illusionist. The color is at odds with the damage it can do; it’s almost cute, until your wound is metastasizing, or a delayed lightning bolt strikes you in the back and fries you from the inside.

Almost as if to prove my point, a tsunami of pink magic appears in the air and smashes into Broken. Sigils and Unigaean script flash in the air, the fireworks of chronomancy a sight to behold.

To my surprise, Broken’s dragon screeches and shakes the mage off.

The dragon flaps its wings, and excretes from its mangled maw something that resembles an exploding lava lamp, which coats an approaching troupe of afflicted, but does little to stop their advance.

The Arcane Mage hits the ground like a meteor, his hands covering his hooded face.

He rolls around, kicks his legs, and as I charge over to him ready to make the kill, he gets hold of himself and sits up, his eyes shining red beneath his cloak.

Broken is muscular, and like Deathdale, his lack of armor only makes sense in a fantasy world.

He wears a black, hooded cloak that is held together by a brooch at the center of his chest. The rest of his chest is exposed – the motherfucker is shirtless – and once you get past his rippling abs, his legs are covered in black dragon scale armor, his boots formed of steel coated in what I assume is sea dragon leather.

What in the actual fuck is he wearing? I’d love to give the Player Character shit for looking like a douche hat, but he’s airborne by the time I reach him.

His dragon long gone, Broken takes a scepter out of thin air and points it at me.

The First Artifact.

I know what it is the moment I see it, mainly by the size and grandiosity of the weapon, which looks like something straight out of colonial England. A glorious red ruby sits atop the scepter, the shape of which reminds me of a bedpost.

“Shit!” I take off as a line of flaming rocks barrel towards me, each closer than the last. I see someone running after me out of the corner of my eye, but I ignore the person as I try to find a better vantage point to get my bearings.

Another pink lightning bolt strikes Broken.

The rocks stop.

He turns his attention to Sam. Blue orbs fire out of the end of the First Artifact.

“Sam!”

The smoke and debris obscure the battlefield.

“Sam!” I cry, running towards her. My heart returns to its original position when Sam tears out of a cloud of oily smoke on wolfback.

Wolf zigzags, avoiding more of Broken’s blue orbs, which burn enormous holes into the ground as soon as they touch down. Not having any other way to engage the floating Arcane Mage, I equip my crossbow pistol and mentally turn the handicap on.

A reticle appears on the center of Broken’s exposed chest; I’m just about to fire off a shot when I’m broadsided by the orc from earlier that I stupidly forgot to kill.

The seething inbred fucker gets his calloused hands around my neck and starts choking me, blood dripping from his nose onto my face as he squeezes harder and harder.

I kick my legs but the orc latches on tighter.

My hands go to his hands as he squeezes the life out of me, as I try to calm the digital adrenaline roaring through my bloodstream.

“You’ll die now!” he spits into my face.

The orc loosens his grip for a tenth of a second, and I seize the opportunity.

I flip the orc to his side and the two of us roll sideways, each struggling to get the upper hand as more Stater soldiers appear on the scene. We slam into a lantern and it falls, the fire igniting the grass.

I finally get the upper hand and jam my fingers into the orc’s eyeballs.

-129 HP! Critical hit!

On my feet again, I stomp the orc’s face out, fire now raging around me.

-84 HP! -162 HP! Instakill!

The approaching Stater soldiers see me. A pinecone IED in hand, I place the wick to the fire and toss it over to them.

Insta-Insta-Instakill!

+1 Infamy!

I follow up with another pinecone just as the first explodes, which causes a chain reaction explosion midair.

Need to get to Sam …

A few steps back, and I light another IED and toss it over.

Insta-Instakill!

The explosion sends gravel and body parts into the air.

My attention returns to Sam, who has just barely missed Broken’s last glowing blue orb. A flash of pink and …

Sam is in the air, now on Broken’s back.

The wind whips around them as Sam pulls his hood back, revealing a face covered in scars and burn marks. She holds tight, her legs wrapped around his waist as she jams my throwing knife into the side of his neck.

“Sam!”

They fall together, Sam still driving the blade into his neck until they hit the ground.

Instakill!

(^_^)

I sprint towards Sam, oblivious to the chaos of my surroundings.

I see Wolf charging too, his eyes fixed on the Hourglass Mage as she pushes herself off Broken. The two landed with Sam on top, her knees still wrapped around his sides.

I reach her and go to one knee, cradling her head with my hands.

“My legs are broken,” she says as her eyes roll. “And something … else.”

From the light of the raging flames I can see that there are red marks under her skin, that she’s bleeding from the ears and that, to my utter horror, she’s starting to bleed from her eyes.

I gently lift her as blood now gushes from her nose.

“Sam! Are you okay!?”

“We … need … to … go.”

“What happened to you?” I whisper as I set her down.

Wolf is at my side now, whimpering anxiously. We’re on the same wavelength – we’d better get the hell out of here – but without Sam’s ability, we’ll have to go it on foot.

She coughs, lifts her shoulders, and vomits blood all over the front of her robes.

“Can you use your magic?” I ask as more blood bubbles out of her mouth. “Sam, please, talk to me!”

Her teeth red and her voice raspy, Sam turns to me and says, “He cast … Blood Drain. Something like that ... ” More blood seeps from her eyes and nose as she tries to wipe it away with her sleeve.

“He cast it before he died?” I ask in full panic mode now.

She nods and I hear a screech above me. Not twenty feet away, a griffin hovers overhead, its rider none other than Florin Talonas. The governor of Stater peers down at us, his cape beating in the wind caused by the griffin’s wings.

Motherfucker.

“Oric … the First Artifact.” Sam lifts a shaky finger towards the dead Arcane Mage.

“Wolf.” I nod towards the mage’s scepter and Wolf gets the picture. He trots over, grabs it, and brings it back.

[The First Artifact]

I am just finishing adding it to my list when I hear my name.

“Oric Rune!” Florin Talonas has dismounted from his griffin. On his back is a crossbow that can fire two bolts at a time; in his hand is a Mycenaean longsword with a gleaming golden hilt.

Florin takes a step closer to me and sheathes his sword. He lifts his free hand over his head, and returns with his double bolt crossbow, which he also aims at me.

“What in the actual fuck is wrong with you?” I shout, my blood boiling with rage.

“I can’t seem to kill you.”

A pyro afflicted charges at Florin, and he levels the flaming zombie with two shots from his crossbow. The two bolts, now sticking out of the afflicted’s face, catch fire as the monstrosity tries to drag itself towards the governor of Stater.

“So what will it be, Oric?” asks Florin as he loads two more bolts into his crossbow. I narrow my eyes at the man, my hands trembling as I reach for my weapon.

Rage.

My muscles swell beneath my armor as liquid fury enters my bloodstream.

RAGE!

Chapter Fourteen: Lost in the Periphery

And I run. Sam over my shoulder and Wolf trying to keep up at my side, I charge towards Lothar’s location, towards the frontline of the battle.

The cries of Meticans all around me, the flames of the afflicted as they engage Stater’s finest, the snarl of wolves, the death moans of those whose luck has run out, the screech of a griffin overhead – everything is tunnel vision for me now, lost in the periphery.

Rage surging through me, I’ve used my ability to save Sam rather than engage Florin Talonas.

Sam is all that matters.

The Hourglass Mage’s face and body is covered in blood, her robes completely soaked. Thrown over my shoulder, I can’t see her now, a good thing, as I’m afraid that seeing Sam in such a sorry state of affairs will turn my trajectory back to Florin, the root cause of this terrible war.

“Oric,” Sam says, her voice raspy.

“Hold on, Sam!” I shout, my rage voice something I’ve never used before to my knowledge. It is like a voice speaks through me when I open my mouth, almost as if I’m having an out of body experience.

I’m fast, but Wolf is faster.

He blazes ahead, barking and looking back at me as he keeps a perimeter. The afflicted charge past us, flames flickering off their bodies, their faces death masks and their limbs flailing at their sides as they run.

Everything is a fiery blur.

My rage ability is overpowering; I’m too focused on escaping to pull up the map with Lothar’s location marked on it. I know he’s to the northwest, at least a mile away, and my only goal, as my feet slap into the soil below me, as my lungs fill with air and my muscles bulge and swell, is to get away from this battle.

To safety.

With Sam.

And when I see a powerful afflicted female atop a flaming Shire horse, her eyes burning disco balls, wings of fire jutting from her back, I don’t stop to say hello. The Obelisk, whatever her plan may be, is of little significance to me at the moment.

Sam wakes again; I feel her stir and cough.

“Stay with me, Sam!”

I know a fireman carry isn’t the most stable way to carry someone, and now that she’s awake, I pull her down into my arms as if she’s my bride. Cradling her in my arms, I stare in horror at her face, which is so red with blood it appears as if someone dumped a gallon of stage blood over it.

I start to tear up.

Something about the color mixed with the unadulterated power and animosity surging through me has made me emotional, as if I’m coming down from a great adrenaline rush.

“You’ll be okay,” I tell her, “just heal yourself. Sam! Can you hear me? Please, Sam, don’t give up!”

“Oric.” She swallows hard, her face shiny and wet with blood.

“If you can understand me, heal yourself!”

A loud screech and I turn to see Florin’s griffin touching down, its wings flapping as its rider points his double bolt crossbow at me. Wolf barks and doubles back around, ready to take on Florin, his fucking griffin, and whatever else the deceptive bastard plans to throw at us.

I wrap my arms around Sam just in time to feel two arrows zip into my back.

They’re magic!

The thought comes to me as the arrows move through my armor as if it were made of water.

“Wolf, no!” I shout as I look to my left.

He’s past me now, his feet propelling him towards Florin and his griffin. The griffin, the size of an elephant, is way too large for Wolf to take on. “Stay here,” I whisper to Sam, beside myself now as pain spreads across my back.

I set Sam down as gently as possible, and turn to Florin, my Splintered Sword at the ready. “You dirty motherfucker … ”

A spark of pink magic hits the caped fucker straight in the chest.

Confusion spreads across Florin’s face as Wolf reaches the griffin. The leader of Stater falls from his griffin, right at Wolf’s feet.

The lion eagle screeches and takes a step back as it beats its wings in a panic.

What the hell?

I turn back to Sam to see her pointing her wand at Florin, her features completely concealed by blood. Even the whites of her eyes are bloodshot to the point that I can’t make them out.

“What did you do?” I ask, still reeling from the pain from the two arrows sticking out of my back.

“Memory Rot,” she says, her voice just audible. With one more screech, Florin’s griffin lifts off the ground.

“It worked?”

Sam slouches forward, and I run to meet her.

“You should have healed yourself, I could have handled him!”

Sam doesn’t say anything. She breathes heavily now, her eyes focused on Wolf as he approaches. The Tagvornin beast comes bearing gifts – as soon as he reaches us, he deposits a very confused governor at my feet.

“Who … what the hell are you doing?” Florin glances down at his arm once he notices he can’t bend it. “What happened to me?”

I approach the bastard, lift him off the ground, pull my fist back, and let him have it, my assault boosted by my depleting rage ability.

-235 HP! Critical hit!

Florin collapses, out cold.

(^_^)

“Not necessary,” Sam says, her voice still raspy.

The afflicted shuffle past us, their flames igniting any patches of grass they come into contact with.

“Just heal yourself so we can get this show on the road,” I tell her, still wary of the burning zombies.

Sam checks her bloody hourglass to see that the sand has completely drained to the opposite side, which happens to be the top bulb this time.

“We need to ... get out of here,” she says.

“Sam, heal yourself first. For fuck’s sake your legs are broken and you’re bleeding …” I shake my head at her, still not sure how to react to just how much blood Sam has bled out. Her robes, once light gray, are now completely red, saturated to a point that they’d drip if she tried to lift a sleeve.

“Touch me, Oric. Wolf and Florin too.”

“That motherfucker is coming with us?”

“For now.”

Still not through raging, I move over to Florin and grab him roughly by his chest plate.

I begrudgingly drag him over to Sam, and whistle for Wolf to come closer.

“But you’re healing after this,” I tell her, “and you’re drinking a potion too.” With one hand on Wolf and my other hand now holding Florin by his golden locks, I drop my head so Sam can touch me.

She reaches out to me, places her bloody hand on my forehead, and lifts her wand. One pink flash later, and we’re much closer to the woods that line the Western Splits.

Florin coughs, and stirs.

He blinks his eyes open and notices that I’m still holding him by the hair. “Where? Who are you?” I push him away and he scoots backwards, only for Wolf to greet him, the Tagvornin beast snarling and gnashing his teeth.

“Holy shit!”

“His memory is completely wiped?” I ask Sam.

“It appears so.” A healing potion materializes in Sam’s hand and she throws it back, her shoulders raising as the potion takes effect. She equips a second one and goes to town. “Better,” she says, her voice no longer raspy. She sits on the ground now, her legs awkwardly placed to her side, her face partially obscured by the shadows of the night. “But my legs … and the Blood Drain is still in effect.”

“Can your healing spell take care of both those things?”

Sam shrugs. “The Blood Drain, yes, my legs … I don’t know. It’s not something that could theoretically heal on its own. We’ll have to see. I should be able to take care of the arrows sticking out of your back, though.”

“These old things?” I turn my back to Sam, showing her the arrows. It hurts, but I’ve felt worse pains than this. “They’re all the rage in Paris.”

She offers me a bloody grin. “Let me heal you first.”

My face hardens. “Absolutely not. I can do with my arrows a little bit longer.”

“Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?” asks Florin, still bewildered.

“Your memory has been wiped,” I tell him bluntly.

“By whom?”

“Her.”

“Why is she so bloody?”

“Because of you.”

“Me?” He looks genuinely surprised. “What did I do? Why is my nose bleeding?”

“Because I punched you in the face.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because you are an asshole, and most assholes deserve a good punch to the face, yet most are usually lucky enough to avoid one. You, on the other hand, are not one of the lucky assholes.”

He rubs his chin for a moment. “And this is your Wolf?” he asks, his eyes cautiously tracking my canine companion, who stalks in front of Florin now, ready to tear him to shreds at a moment’s notice.

“It is.”

“Please call your dog off.”

“I’ll think about it, Florin.”

He touches his chest with his good hand. “So, I’m Florin.”

“You are.”

“What can you remember?” Sam asks, curious now. “How far back?”

“I am dead, an RPC, I remember that. I remember all those details. I can’t remember any details regarding who I am now, or why I’m here in … where are we? Clearly a Proxima world, I get that part. That comes with the territory of being an RPC.”

“Shit,” I look down at Sam and nod, impressed. “Your attack completely wiped out anything and everything he knows about Unigaea. Or so it seems.”

“What’s on your dashboard?” Sam asks.

“My dashboard … ” He lifts his finger and his eyes flicker. “A map and what appears to be a war being fought on it. Red markers and blue markers.”

“Can you access your personal history?”

After a moment he shakes his head. “It’s blank.”

“Fuck me, Sam, that’s a crazy spell. I’m surprised it didn’t … ” We both look at her bloody hourglass.

“It did,” she says, showing me the crack that had been there previously.

Wolf barks as Florin gets to his feet. “What happened to my arm?”

“You tripped coming down the stairs.”

Sam chuckles. “Don’t listen to him. You fell off a griffin.”

“A griffin?” He shudders. “Why would I … I was riding one, wasn’t I?”

“You’re catching on, Florin.”

He locks eyes with me. “I hate that name.”

“That makes two of us. What would you prefer?”

“My real world name was Fred, but you know what, fine, call me Florin.”

I’m just turning back to Sam when I feel the skin on my back tighten. The two arrows drop to the ground.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell her.

“It’s fine,” she says from her position on the ground. “I couldn’t stand looking at you with those things sticking out of your back. I’ll recharge quickly and cure the Blood Drain spell. I’m afraid I’ll need new robes as well.”

“Who shot arrows at you?” Florin asks. “Don’t tell me it was me.”

“It was you.”

(^_^)

Sam waves her hand over her body, her body awash with pink magic. “It worked,” she says, breathing heavily now.

“I really can’t tell.”

She offers me another toothy red grin. “Oric.”

“What?”

Her grin fades as she holds up her hourglass.

“Is it still warm?” I crouch next to her, still heartbroken to see her legs splayed out.

“It is, but it’s cooling down. We should be able to use Time Skip soon.”

“What about your legs?”

“I’ll deal with them later. I just focused the spell on Blood Drain.”

Wolf growls at the amnesiac and he cowers. “Please, call off your dog!”

Sam and I take a few steps away from Florin, who is occupied with a pretty pissed off pooch. “And you’re sure we can’t just kill him?” I say under my breath.

“Oric.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said my name in the last two minutes.”

“We can’t. He could be valuable.”

“How?”

“To end the war. We’re riding north after this, to the Rune Lands, and after that …” Sam shrugs, the whites of her eyes contrasted strongly against the crimson tinge of her skin. “There may not be an ‘after that,’ but if there is, having that cocksucker may prove useful.”

I smile at the sometimes bawdy, always lively, Hourglass Mage.

“I’ve aged again,” she says, “I can feel it.”

“Really?”

“But what can you do? This is my avatar. Let’s get back to Lothar, and from there, you and I can travel to Warp Rider. We’ll leave my leg situation for the morning. I need a fucking break from all this.”

“Seeing the pyro afflicted got to you?”

She nods. “Among other things. Florin, come over here.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, still wary of Wolf’s snarling.

“We are transporting somewhere. He won’t bite you, unless Oric tells him to.”

“And I still haven’t decided whether I should tell him to or not,” I call over to the governor of Stater. “So get your ass over here.”

Florin meekly makes his way over to us, cringing as Wolf barks.

“Good boy,” I tell Wolf after I’ve whistled him over. “Keep your eye on this fucker.”

Florin starts to say something but swallows hard instead. “Okay, am I supposed to touch you?”

Without saying a word, Sam places her hand out and Florin drops down to touch it. She touches me with her other hand, and I place my hand on Wolf’s head.

We’re gone in a flash, and Lothar damn near shits his pants when he sees Sam covered in blood and the governor of Stater to boot.

“What!?” He falls off his meditations box, causing a small quake as he lands on the ground.

“Relax, Lothar, we’ll explain.” I lift Sam up and hold her in my arms. “Any place you’d, um, like to sit?”

“What happened to her legs!?”

“She fell while attached to Broken’s back.”

“My word! And did it kill him?”

“Sam did, got the scepter too. As for this asshole, Sam blasted him with Memory Rot and now he can’t remember the time when he was just about the biggest douche Unigaea had seen in ages.”

“How much does he remember?” Lothar’s eyebrows lift, his oval glasses reflecting the light from the battle in the distance.

“He knows what he is, an RPC, and he remembers details from his former life, but not much else,” I say.

“Fascinating.”

“I’m glad you’re interested because you two are hanging out here tonight.”

“We are?” they both ask.

“Yup, Sam and I are going to her ship.”

“What about your legs?” Lothar asks her.

“I don’t know if I can heal them yet, and I don’t feel like testing it now. Magic usage continues to take its toll. Tomorrow.”

Lothar pouts. “You’re leaving me here again?”

“You have company this time,” I say as I pull my hand back and ‘pat’ Florin’s back.

“Hey!” he shouts as I slam my open palm onto his back again.

“Be courteous,” I tell Florin, “or the giant might smash you.”

“I will do no such thing!”

Sam laughs. “Lothar, find out what you can about the effects of his Memory Rot. You have rested some, yes?”

“Yes, while you two, three,” he glances at Wolf, “were off having fun.”

“Good. We’ll be back in the morning.”

“Wolf too?” he asks Sam.

She looks to me and I shrug. “I mean, he’s never been on a spaceship before.”

“Spaceship?” asks Florin.

I pull Sam aside. “You think we can trust that Florin will actually stay here? What if he regains his memory?”

She considers this for a moment. “Do you have any rope?”

Chapter Fifteen: My Digital Raison D'être

Once I’ve gotten Florin tied to Lothar’s meditations box – and no, he doesn’t particularly enjoy it but at least I didn’t hogtie him, as I had previously suggested – Sam and I prepare to travel to her vessel in the Proxima Galaxy.

“This is going to be strange, Wolf,” I tell the Tagvornin killer as I scratch him on the neck. “But you’ve already gone through a teleportation or three tonight, so what’s one more oddball trip? You have food on your craft, right?”

“Of course,” says Sam.

“Dog food?”

“We can manage.”

I smile at Wolf. “I really hope you aren’t as afraid of empty space as you are water.”

Sam’s Blueshift wristband warps around her wrist and flashes green. “Let’s go. Come here, Wolfie.”

As Wolf cautiously moves over to her, I turn to Lothar and remind him to keep an eye on Florin.

“I can’t go anywhere!” Florin says. “And you have done nothing to fix my broken arm!”

“In the morning,” I tell him. “Unless you’d like me to break a leg to go along with it.”

“No, let’s do it now.” Sam’s wand appears in her hand and she aims it at Florin.

“Are you kidding me?” I ask her under my breath. “We got him right where we want him. Don’t give him any advantage by fixing his arm.”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

Even though she shouldn’t, Sam blasts Florin with her Speed Heal spell, and his arm heals right up.

“It feels so much better now,” he says. “Thanks!”

Florin wasn’t keen on having his wrists and ankles tied together to a rope attached to Lothar’s box, but we figured it would make it more difficult to escape. Even though he now has usage of his hand again, I have my doubts whether he’d even try to escape.

And if he does, there’s a big rock next to Lothar’s meditations box. Much to the giant’s chagrin, he’s been instructed to pummel the governor of Stater with it if he so much as twitches funny.

“Let’s get this over with.” I place my hand on Sam, she lifts her wrist, and away we go.

Traveling through digital space and time isn’t as odd this time as it was the last go around, but it’s not me I’m worried about. As soon as we spawn I turn to Wolf, who nervously looks around at Sam’s bedroom. He pants, paces, and looks up at me in a panic.

“Easy, boy,” I say as his eyes take in my clean-shaven form. “It’s me, your best friend.”

Sam stands poised on the balls of her feet in her Proxima smuggler outfit, sleek, form-fitting, and classic. Her brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and as she approaches me, Wolf starts barking at her.

“He doesn’t recognize me either.”

“It’s Sam, Wolf, relax.”

She lets him sniff her hand and he finally calms down, but only until he sees her floor to ceiling windows that showcase a twinkling galaxy outside.

Wolf bolts over to the windows, tracking whatever it is dogs track when they’re bugging out as he paces back and forth, whimpering loudly.

“You’ll be fine.” I turn to Sam. “You promised food. I believe that will chill him out.”

“Food it is. Ramjet, dog food, please.”

Sam’s silent AI, or at least he’s been silent every time I’ve been here, quickly gets to work at the espresso bar at the far end of the room. The wall shifts forward, and a tray extends out from the wall, a nice bowl of meat in the center of the tray.

Upon further examination, I see that the bowl is filled with steak cut into perfect cubes.

“Holy shit, can I have one?” I ask after I’ve smelled the food and placed it on the ground for Wolf, who, like most animals when given food, has become completely oblivious to the worry that once ailed him.

I hear the whir of mechanics behind the wall and another tray emerges, a bowl of cubed steak at its center.

Damn it feels good to be on a spaceship.

“Nice!”

“That’s not human food.” Sam laughs as she takes the bowl from me. “Trust me there, if you’re hungry, we’ll have something much nicer.” She places the bowl on the ground. Wolf sucks down the rest of the meat he was just working on, and goes for the second bowl.

“Slow down, buddy,” I tell him, knowing all too well that my request will fall on deaf ears. “At least swallow first!”

Sam laughs. “Remember the food I had back when I was Sam Raid the Illusionist, the piroshki dish I made you?”

I recall the dish and it being delicious. I nod, watching as she takes a seat on the couch.

“That was Ramjet’s recipe, but I perfected it in Unigaea.”

“Your AI is active with you when you’re there?”

She nods. “He is always with me. Consider him my in-game monitor.”

“Even when we almost did it?” I ask, remembering our experience in the bandit’s hut.

Sam laughs. “Yes, is that odd? He is generally reserved, unlike other AIs. He’s been with me since the start, knows everything about me.”

“I see. Well, nice to meet you, Ramjet.” I wave awkwardly at the wall. “So what was this about food for us?”

Sam tells Ramjet to surprise her and also orders a bottle of wine. A metal oval lifts from the ground, startling Wolf. He returns to his food just as the top of the polished metal oval telescopes sideways, revealing a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.

“Food will be ready in a few minutes,” Sam says. “How about a glass of wine to tide us over?”

(^_^)

Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight…

Sam is next to me in a silky nightgown. She’s fast asleep, and the stars flickering across both our naked, blanketed bodies add a touch of surrealness to the scene.

Tomorrow, we ride north.

The point of my existence, my digital raison d'être, is hard to comprehend at times.

Which is why you shouldn’t dwell on it, Oric.

Thanks for the reminder, Eric.

I move to the side of the bed as quietly as I can. Once I’m on the floor, I sit with my back to the bed, my legs crossed. Before I can even motion him over, or make any noise to indicate he should join me, Wolf is at my side.

He licks my hand, and stares up at me with his big, blue-green eyes. His ears relax. He’s happy and content.

“You’re a damn good animal.”

Wolf tries to crawl into my lap, and I can’t help but laugh. “You’re too big, dammit.” I swear the beast thinks he is kitten-sized sometimes. I push him away and he tries again. “I’ll lay down with you,” I whisper, “just relax.”

I lie down and Wolf lies down across from me. I get a whiff of his dog breath and almost push him away.  “Jeez, Wolf.”

He whimpers in a playful way.

“Shhhh, you’ll wake Sam. Turn the other way.”

He stares at me curiously for a moment.

“You know what I mean.”

Wolf gets up and flops back onto the ground.

“Sam is going to give me hell about cuddling you over cuddling her,” I tell him.

All that has recently occurred comes back to me. From the wine we drank to the sushi we ate – sushi on a spaceship! – it was nothing like the trauma we had experienced just an hour earlier, Sam with her legs broken, blood gushing from every orifice, the burning afflicted all around us.

From this my mind skips to Deathdale, her solar power and its aftermath. I hate that she will be forever a mystery, a memory. And all that led up to that, nearly being drowned by a sea dragon, surviving a meteor attack, watching the arrow pass through Sam’s neck in the bandit’s hut.

And you want to go back to that?

I consider this for a moment, and the fact that Unigaea has given me what equates to Stockholm syndrome. But where else would I go if not Unigaea?

There are other Proxima fantasy worlds, Tritania being the most popular, but none give me the same buzz as Unigaea, none are quite as dangerous, powerful, moving, mysterious.

Chicago.

To go back to Chicago would mean having to confront my past. I’d have to face the fact that I’ve been permalogged for so long, that I have no job, no prospects. A real loser, at least in an archaic definition of loser. So many people are permalogged in now that it’s not nearly as taboo as it was back in the 2050s.

The Millennials that are still alive don’t like it, but then again, they were always bitching about something, usually about never getting what the previous generation received. Baby Boomers, I believe, or was it Gen X?

Doesn’t matter.

“If you only knew the things running through my mind,” I tell Wolf with a yawn.

I’ve bored myself to sleep, and rather than finish out the night on the floor, I climb back into the bed and move next to Sam.

Wolf follows soon after.

I try to shoo him away, but he insists, and soon the three of us are sharing Sam’s space bed.

(^_^)

“Breakfast?” Sam asks as soon as I stir. “I see you and Wolf got comfortable last night.”

She sits on her couch in her silk nightgown, a cup of coffee in her hand.

“I tried to push him off the bed but he’s too heavy.”

“Sure you did.” She laughs playfully. “Why was your arm around him and not me?”

“He’s, um, warm?” I say with a grin on my face. “But really, there’s no time for breakfast. We need to get back to Lothar and start moving north. It’s time: we really need to see about your legs. Also, Florin – tell me we aren’t really taking him with us.”

“We can eat a quick breakfast there. I have some water in my inventory and a change of clothes for when we arrive in Unigaea. I’ll get cleaned up. And yes. Florin is coming with us.”

“I know, I know, collateral.”

Wolf hops off the bed and rushes over to the wall where the food comes from.

“Okay, maybe he wants breakfast.”

“Ramjet,” Sam says, and her AI goes to work quickly behind the walls. Once Ramjet is finished, Sam retrieves a dog bowl filled with pulled pork and places it before Wolf.

“Whatever you’re feeding him still looks good.”

“So now you’re hungry?”

“Maybe. Can I get … ” My eyes light up. “A burger to go? Or even better, a couple of breakfast tacos?” My mouth waters at the thought of breakfast tacos smothered in salsa with a side of pico de gallo, guacamole, and sour cream, just in case I feel like doing some customizing.

“That’s an odd look you’re giving me.”

“Tacos. Can Ramjet make breakfast tacos?”

“Of course he can.”

A few minutes later and I’m munching down on some of the best breakfast tacos I’ve ever had. Bacon, chorizo, scrambled eggs, pico de gallo, shredded Monterey Jack Cheese, fried avocado. I’m in heaven.

“We can officially go,” I tell Sam after I’ve wolfed down my fourth taco.

She rolls her eyes at me.

“What?”

“You’ve made a mess of the front of your flight suit.”

“Ah. Well, Ramjet can do the dry-cleaning too, right?” I look around the room, hoping for a response. None comes, and I’m just about to say something else when a green flash from her Blueshift wristband sends us back to Unigaea.

Now in her Hourglass Mage avatar, Sam looks up at me and smiles. She sits in the same place she sat before we left, still in her bloody robes.

“Damn, Sam.”

“I’ll get cleaned up, then I’ll see if I can change my condition in any way.”

“Glad to see you two,” says Lothar, who sits cheerily on his meditations box reading a letter. There is no hint of sarcasm in his voice, and as he looks at us over the rim of his oval glasses, I get the feeling that he is indeed happy to see us.

Florin Talonas is still tied up, fast asleep with his head bowed forward. I turn back to Sam to see her in fresh robes.

“Damn! That was fast.”

A basin filled with water appears, and a white rag pixilates into her hand. She dips it in. As she runs the rag over her face, it quickly darkens with her dried blood.

Sam rinses the rag out and goes back to work on her face. Another pass, and I see that Sam has aged even further, to the point that she now resembles a sixty year old woman.

“Stop staring.”

“Sorry,” I turn back to Lothar and shrug. “Um, what are you reading there?”

“A letter from an old colleague.”

Wolf circles around the friendly giant and trots over to a couple of rocks. His leg comes up, and he quickly lets any other beasts in the vicinity know that he has dibs on this space.

“It’s not another breakup letter, is it?”

Lothar chuckles. “No, nothing like that. My friend, Tignor, puts forth a theory in this letter regarding a way to use algomagic to theoretically OMIB-port from one Proxima world to another. Anyway, never mind, it’s a bit daft, maybe under thought. I forgot I’d stashed the letter away in my box! The things you find when you have too much free time. So, how was your trip to space?”

He folds the letter and places it in the front of his robes.

“It was, um, interesting, to say the least.”

Sam clears her throat as her Book of Time appears in front of her. “Let’s get this over with.” Her face now clean from the blood, Sam points the wand at her legs and fires off her healing spell.

I can tell by her frown that her spell hasn’t worked.

As the sand in her hourglass flows in the opposite direction, Sam opens her Book of Time to the page she has generated for her Speed Heal spell. Information regarding what I assume is the fact that the spell won’t cure paralysis materializes in black ink.

“Motherfucker,” I say as I move over to Florin Talonas. I’m just about to wake him up with a boot to the chin when Sam tells me to cool it.

“Let’s not resort to that sort of violence,” adds Lothar.

Wolf barks, his tail beating back and forth as he watches me crouch in front of Florin. He comes tearing over to me, barking and snarling at Florin.

“What the …?” I pull my Splintered Sword as soon as I see that Florin’s wrists are no longer tied.

The governor of Stater glances up at me with a look I can’t decipher. “You got me.” He slowly lifts his hands.

“What the fuck, Lothar?” I ask.

“What do you mean?” Lothar stands from his meditations box and peers down at Florin. “I didn’t know he was able to release himself!”

“Sorry,” Florin says as he raises his hands, “the rope wasn’t very tight.”

“Bullshit.” I keep my sword at the ready as I look him over.

Something isn’t right here.

“Relax, Oric, you were in a hurry last night,” Sam says.

I take a deep breath and slowly lower my weapon.

“I don’t have a weapon to fight you with,” Florin reminds me.

“I’m sure you do, in your inventory list.”

“My list mostly has potions, documents, and other frivolous things. I assure you.”

“He’s right, Oric,” says Lothar.  “And for the record, Florin and I spoke a lot last night. He’s truly lost his memory.”

“And let me guess, he has no idea why he formulated this plan to take over Unigaea, including a false flag attack using southerners’ fear of Tagvornins to his benefit. Sound about right?”

Lothar nods slowly. “Yes, he has no idea why he wanted to do all that. We tried several different ways to try to uncover or somehow piece together what his intentions were before Sam’s attack, even so far as going through the documents in his list. Nothing.”

I point my finger at Florin. “Fine. But we will bring this back up again in the future. I don’t for a fucking minute believe that some part of you doesn’t know what happened. You seem to recall your RPCness well enough. This isn’t over.”

I sheathe my blade and whistle for Wolf to follow me. Once we get over to Sam, I help her up and place her on his back. “Welcome to your new wheels,” I say, realizing after I’ve said it how cruel it sounds.

Luckily, it’s Sam, and if anyone can take a joke, it’s her. “Does it come in an all-terrain package?”

“Actually, it does.”

“So how are we doing this? As we discussed over breakfast?”

She touches her hourglass necklace and nods.

“Lothar, get your ass down here and get as close to me as you can.”

I turn to Florin and glare. “You too, but get on the other side of Lothar. Touch his leg, or better yet, his foot. Touch his foot.”

Lothar drops to a knee next to Sam, and I remind him to get his meditations box.

“I’ve never done this before,” he says as he returns with his box, the ground rumbling slightly as he approaches.

Sam, now on Wolf, reaches out and touches my arm. I touch Lothar’s knee and Florin touches Lothar’s foot, as instructed.

Pink magic envelops us and we’re gone in a flash.

Chapter Sixteen: Tagvornin Erectile Dysfunction and Taelian Socialism

Away we go, making our way north by northeast, alternating between walking for thirty minute sprints and using Sam’s Time Skip spell. The spell has some sort of built-in AI, if that’s what it can be called, as it never seems to port us somewhere that can’t support the people being transported, including Lothar’s giant ass.

Speaking of Lothar, the friendliest giant this side of Karuna Island has gone full on buddy-buddy with Florin Talonas. You’d think the two were old college roommates, reminiscing about the cold night they spent in the woods of the Western Splits.

I’m not buying it.

Maybe it was the slight grin on Florin’s face earlier when he saw that I had discovered that he’d been untied. And what was he thinking, anyway? That I wouldn’t see the rope was missing? Was he planning to spring out at me or something?

He’s lucky I didn’t put an end to this then.

This thought, as we take a walking break – Sam on Wolf, Lothar and Florin chatting about Unigaean winters – naturally moves into philosophical query as to what the Obelisk is planning.

She has to know that Florin is with us.

Is the war still waging on, as if its key players are ever-present?

Why hasn’t she appeared before us, possibly on her fiery Shire horse, to offer sound judgment against Florin?

“We can skip forward in a few minutes,” Sam announces to the group.

“Why won’t you just use the word teleport?” I ask for the second time. It’s afternoon now, and a crisp breeze blows from the east carrying with it the scent of Blue Melon, which immediately triggers a fleeting image of Deathdale.

“Because this is a fantasy world,” Sam says.

“That it is!” Lothar and Florin laugh.

I glance right to see Wolf giving me a look that says ‘should I kill him or do you want to?’

Which one? I want to ask.

“Time Skip sounds cooler than teleport anyway,” explains Sam. “And we aren’t teleporting, we are actually speeding up time for ourselves.”

“I’m a bit confused on how this transportation method works,” Florin says.

“It is a form of Proxima time dilation. Sam is correct when she says we aren’t teleporting. If we were teleporting, it would be the same time, or possibly a fraction of a second later when we arrived. Think of it like this: every time we arrive, our clocks have passed the amount of time it would theoretically take us to travel the distance.” Lothar clears his throat.

“So we are actually traveling the distance, just not here, in Unigaea.”

“Correct, Florin! While Sam’s spell is in effect, we are actually moving through the OMIB – that’s Orthogonal Matrix Inverse Base, Florin – slowly, I might add. And when Sam goes to her ship, that’s fast-moving through the OMIB.”

A question comes to me. “If we’re slowly moving through the OMIB right now, why don’t we see the OMIB? You know, stars and shit.”

“We don’t see stars and whatnot because we are in limbo in the OMIB,” Lothar says, “waiting for time to catch up here.”

“And this is why the clock keeps skipping ahead by thirty minutes,” adds Sam. “We aren’t teleporting, we’re skipping, and the world continues to function for however long we are slow motion traveling through the OMIB. Are we clear now?”

“It gets more complicated than that,” Lothar says, “but we can save that conversation for another time.”

“How about we save that one for a bedtime story tonight?”

Lothar laughs heartily. “Oh, Oric, you are too old for bedtime stories!”

“I guess you’re right. So, let’s simplify this conversation. How long until we reach the Rune Lands if we continue at this pace?”

“Not as long as I originally anticipated,” says Sam. “Our first time skip today only put us forward half a mile or so, but since I’ve cast it several more times, it keeps increasing its distance.”

“I feel a math problem coming on!”

“We’ll work out the algebra later, Lothar,” she says.

“It’s not quite algebra. It is more of a velocity equation, specifically something that could be solved, I believe, by using the Schwarzschild metric, although I may be wrong in this regard.”

“Point is, each time I cast the spell, we are traveling at a compounded distance,” Sam says, “of about twenty-five percent further each time. Our theoretical time of travel is remaining constant, meaning it is still taking about the same ‘Unigaea world time’ of about thirty minutes, yet we’re going further distances.”

I nod, impressed that I can comprehend what the hell it is everyone is talking about.

Thank you, MIND!

“So when will we arrive then?” Florin asks.

Lothar retrieves a map from his meditations box. He then does just about the most primitive thing I’ve seen to calculate one of the more technical equations I’ve encountered.

Using his finger, the middle phalanx of his pointer finger to be specific, he gauges the distance from our current position to the Rune Lands, just outside of Tagvornin. He bites his lip for a minute as his mind cranks into gear. “We’ll be there at dusk, at around seven o’clock, give or take ten minutes. Is that what you predict as well, Sam?”

Sam nods, clearly impressed that he’s come up with such a calculation using a finger.

“Do I even want to ask how you figured that out?”

Lothar grins at me. “Of course you do. My middle phalanx measures a distance of 1.75 miles on my map. I counted how far we have to travel, and then thought of an equation that accounted for a twenty-five percent increase in travel every time Sam’s spell is cast added with our averaged walking distance, which seems to be a little over a quarter of a mile before Sam is able to transport us again. I can show you the equation, if you’d like.”

“I’m good.”

“You are the smartest NPC I know,” says Florin.

“I have a giant brain!”

(^_^)

A final pink flash and we arrive on the borders of the Rune Lands. Everything is white here, the trees are iced over and snow drifts jut out from the sides of the main road.

Our breaths are visible.

Lothar asks Sam what time it is and when she tells him, he shakes his head with disappointment. “I told you that we’d be here within a ten minute time frame; we’re here fifteen minutes before seven.”

“It’s fine, Lothar,” Sam tells him.

“Yeah, we have more important things to handle, such as the fact that it looks like all of Tagvornin appears to be evacuating. But still, it frustrates me.”

From our vantage point on a small hill, we can see that there are numerous tents, caravans, people, and livestock, the Tagvornin camp decorated by the occasional fire. The southwestern part of the camp is where the soldiers are staying, the guards in their red and black armor near the siege weapons.

There are also wolves, lots of wolves, ranging in color from black to white.

“Shall we?” I ask as I take a step down the hill. “Wait.” I hand Florin my lavender cloak and my Masking Hat. “Put this stuff on.”

“A purple cloak?”

“The color lavender is on trend right now, trust me. The old you was technically at war with the Tagvornins. I’m guessing they knew something about you coming to the north, otherwise they wouldn’t have put their military where they did. Anyway, you need to keep a low profile.”

“I see,” he says as he takes the clothing from me. “If you suggest I keep a low profile, then that’s what I’ll do.” He places the cloak over his shoulders and puts the hat on. Seeing him in my outfit only reminds me of how stupid I must look when wearing my lavender cloak.

I really, really should have thought hard about that purchase.

Buyer’s remorse, what can I say, Oric?

Thanks for the vote of confidence, Eric.

The Tagvornin encampment is poorly organized, and much to his delight, Lothar isn’t the only giant around. Others are visible on the horizon; the makeshift pathways that divide the encampment into sections are designed to accommodate those from Tael.

I’ve forgotten just how remote the Rune Lands can feel, this remoteness played out in the general appearance of Tagvornins. They are fierce, men and women alike, and they stand out in a crowd, less because of their red armor and more because of their other attire.

Tagvornins wear clothing made of leather and fur, what you’d expect from a northern population. Their haircuts and face tattoos are what set them apart from those that hail from other regions of Unigaea.

Every single Tag, regardless of age, has their head shaved.

The women only have the front portion shaved. The back is still long and the way it’s braided can indicate a number of things. Young girls have three braids, women of marrying age two braids, married women one long braid, and widowed women no braids at all.

So, business in front, party in the back.

The men have shaved heads and beards of varying length to make up for the fact they can’t get warm on top. Most wear akhlut caps with strips of fur hanging down to cover their ears. The older men have tattooed dots above their eyebrows; the younger men wear something akin to a black kilt but longer, and with leggings beneath to fight off the cold.

Shit if it isn’t cold here.

I can feel the wind blowing in from the Seleucid Sea, the air chilling my bones. It’s too dark on the horizon now to see the Red Plague, but it doesn’t take long for us to hear about its approach and the required evacuation.

“Damn city guards,” a man with a filthy beard rambles as we pass, “forcing me to bring my happy ass here.” He drops a bottle of wine and cries, “Come and take it! And fuck you!” he screams at Lothar.

Lothar stops and looks at him curiously for a second. “I believe he has had too much to drink,” he finally says.

“I will kick your giant ass!”

“You cannot reach my giant rear with your foot,” Lothar informs the drunk.

“Holy shit, Lothar, you make this too easy. Let’s keep this party moving.”

Wolf trots ahead, Sam on his back. I see a woman in official clothing standing at the crossroads ahead. She holds a torch, and points people who speak to her in various directions.

“Wolf, ride to that woman,” Sam says, and man’s best Tagvornin friend follows her orders.

“We will have to run to keep up with her,” Florin comments as they take off, “which is odd because she cannot run.”

I turn to Florin, my finger pointed at his chest. “Yeah? It’s your fault she can’t walk, you piece of shit. If it weren’t for Lothar and her, I would have strung your ass up back at the battle. I haven’t forgotten you shot me with two fucking arrows, and seriously, we never went over this, but how the hell did your arrows go through my armor and not break it?”

“I do not know,” he says. Try as I might to detect some type of combative tone, none is present.

“Ah,” Lothar says as a man riding a hairy Metican horse curves around him, “they were likely arrows created for Florin by Broken, the now dead Arcane Mage. Algomagic. That would explain it. It would also explain why your armor is intact, and a good thing too. That is rare armor!”

Sam and Wolf come back around before I can lay into Florin any further.

“Recent arrivals are camping over there.” She points to the west. “And we can’t continue north until at least morning.”

“Who says we can’t?”

Lothar snorts. “Likely the Tagvornin authorities, Oric.”

“They can’t stop us.”

“They have patrols out; the Red Plague has caused a lot of looting, and not just by goblins.”

“Common looters,” Lothar adds, “although that’s a stereotype, and goblins hate being profiled.”

“They do?” Florin asks. “I can’t recall.”

“Like hell you don’t,” I say bitterly.

Sam glances from Florin to me. “We should rest for the night, and reach the plague itself tomorrow.”

“About that,” Lothar begins to say.

“We can discuss this later,” I tell him. “Let’s get out of this intersection.”

There’s nothing special about where we choose to camp aside from a couple of tree stumps, one of which is big enough for Lothar to sit on. More gracious than I remember them being, the Tagvornins carry rocks over and form a fire pit for us.

They even get a fire going.

“Why’s everyone being so nice?” I ask Sam, who now sits with her back against a tree stump.

“I believe many of them have gone into crisis mode.”

“It’s nice to see their crisis mode involves helping strangers.”

We’re silent for a moment as Lothar tells Florin a giant joke that seemingly has no punchline. Florin eventually laughs, but it’s definitely forced.

“And for dinner?” I ask aloud, hoping the Obelisk hears me. At the mention of the word dinner, Wolf looks at me and licks his lips. I wait for rabbits to run up to us and die at our feet.

After nothing happens, I clear my throat and try again. “And for dinner?”

“It looks like we will have to catch it ourselves tonight,” Lothar says.

“And by we, you mean me, right?”

“I can help you, if you’d like.”

“It’s fine.” I stand and stretch my arms over my head. “I can hunt.”

“No need for that,” we hear a voice call over to us. An old man with a cane approaches, his back hunched and a crooked grin on his face. His eyebrows are bushy, his beard long and twisted at the end. “We’ve got plenty of food to go around.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Lothar says.

“It will be necessary, giant friend,” the old man says. “I tell you all what, it has been a hell of a day. We’ve been traveling for hours now, and we aren’t that far from the outskirts of Tagvornin. Talk about slow moving. Ever had Blue Melon honey? It’s kind of like that. I’ll tell you what, I could go for some of that stuff right about now. My wife used to make it all the time, now she’s too busy raising our grandkids. Where the hell are those little ankle biters? Julian, Ricky, Bubbles, get your asses over here!”

Old man comes up offering us food and starts rambling? If that isn’t the start of a quest, I don’t know what is.

This gets me wondering about quest updates. They’ve stopped appearing, which is odd.

I glance at Sam and she gives me the ‘your guess is as good as mine’ shrug.

“We don’t have time for a quest,” I tell him with a sigh.

“A quest! My boy, the world is being destroyed! Now, of all times, and by the light of the northern god now means now, now is not the time to talk of quests! Not now! It’s a mass exodus, and by mass I mean me and your ass, well asses, so take the fucking handout, as Unigaean welfare is a rare thing indeed!”

“Not in Tael,” Lothar says, his finger in the air. “In Tael, everyone is on a form of township welfare, which is why there are so many giants at the Solidus academies. Our tuitions are subsidized by those who stay and work in Tael, and we in turn pay back into the system once we are able to publish or find employment.”

The old man stares up at Lothar as if he had just spit on his head. “You know, if I had a hard-on for every time a giant told me of the boons of Taelian socialism, my offspring would be visible from sea to sea, as far as the eye could see. What I’m trying to say here is I’d be fucking a lot, and I don’t fuck much nowadays, if at all, because of erectile dysfunction. What? Didn’t learn about that in Solidus, did you?” he asks Lothar.

“Erectile dysfunction wasn’t my area of focus, no.”

“How’s this for an area of focus?!” Cane in hand, the old man crosses his arms and chops at his crotch.

“Pardon?” Lothar asks.

“Chop, chop, giant!” the man cackles and Wolf turns to him, his lips lifting into a snarl.

See, Wolf? You get me, I want to say, but Wolf is now Sam’s wheels – not the best way to refer to him, but it works – and I haven’t ridden him all day.

Kind of odd, actually, as a lot of my day to day travel time is usually spent on Wolf’s back.

Sam holds her wand up. “Enough. We’d be honored if you’d feed us, as long as we don’t have to hear about Tagvornin erectile dysfunction and Taelian socialism. What did I just say? Fuck, I’m hungry.”

He taps his cane against the ground, his eyes wide and a toothy grin painted across his face. “In that case, young lady, I’ll keep the phallic discussions to a minimum. Please, join me!”

“And I’ll keep quiet about Tael,” Lothar promises.

The old man snorts, but doesn’t say anything as he leads us away from our campsite. Wolf looks over his shoulder at me, and I swear he rolls his eyes.

Yeah? Me too, buddy.

Chapter Seventeen: Mistaken Identity

With bellies full we return to our campsite, glad to be rid of the crazy old kook. It turns out his grandkids – Bubbles, Ricky, and Julian, I believe – aren’t actually related to him. They are just kids from the campsite next door. In truth, he had no children. Or a wife.

Go figure.

Still, he fed us, and kept the conversation within the boundaries proposed by Sam.

After our fire is going again, thanks to some shrub gathering from Lothar and Florin, the five of us relax, watching as the flames flicker and spark.

Tomorrow’s the big day.

Or it isn’t.

We have more than one day, and we still don’t have a plan other than what the Obelisk has suggested.

Sam yawns and brings the blanket up to the bottom of her chin.

Wolf is next to her, already asleep, and as he snores lightly, Sam scoots down so only her head is propped up by the tree stump. A real trooper, this one. I really don’t know as much about her as I’d like to know. And to think, she’s been to countless Proxima worlds yet continues to spend her free time here.

I guess Unigaea will do that to you.

Everything is very random here, predestined randomness, and I need to keep reminding myself that all these chance encounters do play parts in a bigger narrative, something that only an all-seeing being such as the Obelisk can interpret and fully understand.

Then why can’t she figure out the source code bomb, the Red Plague? And what happened with the quest updates? Does she still know what is going on?

Maybe it is something too big for even her to tackle, maybe the fact that the bomb is alien technology limits her understanding of it.

Maybe we are going about this all wrong, Oric.

Got any better ideas, Eric?

I drift off not long after having this thought, and awake a few hours later when Lothar’s stomach grumbles. I sit up, my hand already on the hilt of my Splintered Sword. It’s well past midnight now, a murky crimson gloom overhead.

“Wolf,” I whisper.

The big Tagvornin canine’s blue-green eyes settle on me. I nod to where Florin should be sleeping, and he looks over there.

The fucker is gone.

I remove Sam’s head from my shoulder as softly as I can. I move around her and approach Wolf, who is already sniffing at the ground.

“Anything?” I ask him. He looks up at me anxiously. “Trust me, I know you’re not that type of dog.”

Florin could have only gone two directions, either away from the camp, which would have been the smart thing to do, or towards the center of the encampment, which would have been the dumb thing to do.

Wolf keeps sniffing until his tail perks up.

“Found something?”

He turns in the direction of the encampment, and I follow him as he sniffs his way through a lane separating our campsite from another. The people in the other campsite are still awake, gathered around a fire, their breath visible as they tell stories and laugh. I call over to them and a woman with a single braid on the back of her shaved head turns to me.

“Have you seen anyone go by wearing a cloak and a hat?”

The woman spits and points in the direction Wolf is sniffing.

“Um, thanks?” I tell her as I pass.

The overall clutter increases as we move closer towards the center of the Tagvornin camp. People are louder in this quadrant, drunker too. The crisp air is tainted by the scent of burning wood. A breeze from the east makes me wish I had some fur to wear.

I never was one to dress in weather appropriate attire in Unigaea. Not my style.

And that’s why your ass is shivering, Oric.

Asses can’t shiver, Eric. Wait, yes they can.

My inner monologue with either the Obelisk, myself, or both, reminds me why it’s better for a guy like me to have people around him. I’m just glad the two voices in my head aren’t on opposite sides of the political spectrum.

“Night market!” a kid at the end of the lane shouts.

He points to the left, and the couple in front of me turns to the market. I’m just about to go the other way when Wolf looks up at me, and nods his head toward the market.

“If that’s where you think he is ...” I turn to the kid. “Hey, did you happen to see a guy come through here in a purple cloak and a hat?”

The kid shrugs. “Night market!” he shouts to a person behind me.

We wind through the maze that is a Tagvornin night market.

I’ve visited one, back when I was the mayor of Ducat, and never could understand the appeal of shopping in the dark until a Tagvornin city official explained that the vendors offer their best discounts during this time, especially on perishable goods.

My thoughts skip from my past to the reason I’m at the night market right now. If Florin is here, I’m going to find him and when I find him …

I hop behind a stack of crates just in time.

Florin stands about forty feet away from us, his get-up clear in the faint light provided by the night market’s candles. A sack of food flung over his shoulder, he discusses something with a burly food vendor.

He’s buying food? Maybe it’s so he has something to eat for his escape.

I point to Florin, and Wolf licks his lips. While Florin discusses prices with the vendor, we sneak around the back, past a man selling Grope’s shed jerky, of all fucking things, and once we’re about two yards away, I crouch behind a barrel of grain.

“... That’s the lowest I’ll bloody go,” says the food vendor, a thin man with a thick British accent.

“Fine, I thought I’d ask anyway,” says Florin.

“Right then, pay up. I’ve other customers that need tending.”

“And you’re sure this is enough for a giant? I’m unaware of how much food a giant will eat.”

A giant? I glance down at Wolf and I swear he shrugs his shoulders. Is Florin getting food for us?

My thoughts are interrupted by a series of shouts. I peek around the corner to see …

Tension spreads across my chest as my muscles tighten. Two men, clearly Drachma Killers by the look of their garb, surround Florin.

“Found you,” the spiky haired blond one growls. “The man in the lavender cloak, huh? You’re the motherfucker that killed …” The man sighs angrily and the shorter Killer next to him takes over, shoving Florin.

“You’re responsible for the attack on our guildhall!” The shorter of the two is bald and stocky, with tattoos running up the side of his neck.

“Me? Do not touch me!”

Baldy rips Florin’s hat off and gasps. “Put your hat back on,” he says, regaining his composure. He exchanges glances with the other Killer and they grab Florin by the arms.

“You're coming with us!”

(^_^)

I follow as closely as I can behind the group, keeping as low of a profile as possible. I still haven’t settled on what I’m going to do. With one of the Killers at level forty-five and the other level fifty, there is no way that I’ll be able to take them out on my own.

So get creative.

Florin protests as they drag him through the night market until one of them whispers something to the Stater governor. He keeps his trap shut after that. The Killers turn to the northeast; Wolf and I stay on their tails as they weave through a scattering of tents and makeshift dwellings.

They move up the natural slope of the land, and arrive on a hillock overlooking a few dozen encampments. Two Shire horses stand as far away from the campfire as they can, and a Tagvornin man missing an arm stokes the fire. He greets the two Killers with a short bow once he sees them.

Where to hide …

I notice a few overturned trunks, and when I’m in the clear, I move over there as quietly as possible. Wolf keeps close until we are downwind.

I hear Florin being gagged. He tries to cry out, his scream now muffled.

“The governor of Stater undercover in the Rune Lands, huh?” The younger Killer laughs harshly. He pulls his fist back and socks Florin in the face. I don’t see this happening, but I definitely hear the smack and the groan that follows.

“Tie his feet together,” Baldy says, “it’ll stop his kicking.”

I take stock of the situation. I have the bag of Aramis weed which I can fill with the IED pinecones I have left. If I get my swing right, I should be able to toss it into the fire.

No, the weight will be off.

I feel Wolf press closer to me. If I leave Florin here, they may kill him. If I try to rescue him, they may kill me and then him.

But it’s Unigaea, I reason with myself. Things happen for a reason and even though they are double your level, they can go down just as easily as someone at level one.

If the strike is right, Oric.

I’m aware, Eric.

“It’s too risky,” I whisper to myself. And to think Florin was actually trying to get food for us. The irony of it all …

I shake my head. I can’t leave him, won’t leave him.

The old Oric would rush in. Rage?

I consider this for a moment as the Drachma Killers start to beat the hell out of Florin. My ears twitch when I hear the guy tending the fire, the Tagvornin man, tell them to hold off on the torture.

Bad idea.

“Do you two know how much the Tagvornin authorities would pay for the governor of Stater?” he asks.

The one with the lower voice, Baldy, snorts. “We’re not interested in lira.”

I hear the sound of a man crying out. I clench my fists tight as their Tagvornin assistant lets out a final gasp, killed for making a simple suggestion.

Rage.

I feel my blood start to boil and I inhale deeply to keep everything down. My fists are white now, my disdain for the Drachma Killers nearly impossible to contain.

Blow them up.

I know it isn’t that easy, I know that it would be a damn miracle to get an explosion off without injuring Wolf, Florin, or myself.

I suck in a deep breath and slowly move to the side of the overturned trunks, listening as closely as I can to the Drachma Killers debating how they will deal with Florin.

“He could be worth more alive,” the younger one suggests.

Baldy scoffs at this suggestion. “The source code bomb is eventually going to destroy this world. I say we take him to the source, see what happens when we throw him in.”

“Or let it just take part of his body, his legs.”

“That could be interesting.”

“We can take this dead Tag too. Just toss him in.”

Do something, Oric.

“We’ll leave early morning then. Ride north.” Baldy spits to make his point. “The horses are tired. If anyone tries to stop us, we’ll add them to the body count.”

I glance at Wolf and his lips lifting into a snarl.

“Come on,” I whisper as quietly as I can.

My head as low as I can get it, I creep backwards, careful of each step. As soon as I’m far enough away not to cause suspicion, I lock my arm around Wolf’s neck and mount up.

(^_^)

“Lothar! Sam! You have to wake up!”

Wolf skids to a halt and I hop off.

“What is it, Oric?” Sam ask.

“Oric?” Lothar asks with a yawn. “What’s going on?” He rubs his eyes for a moment, and then puts his glasses on. “Where’s Florin?”

“The Drachma Killers got him!”

Sam’s face hardens. “What? How?”

“He left while everyone was sleeping. I followed him to see what he was up to and …”

“He left?” Lothar asks. “Why would he do that?”

“I thought he was trying to bail on us, but it turns out …” I shake my head at the irony of the situation.

“What?” Sam asks.

“He was buying us food, and he was wearing the same purple cloak–”

“–I believe it was lavender,” says Lothar.

“Dammit, Lothar, you know what I mean. I heard them, I was close enough to hear them.”

“How?” asks Sam.

“I snuck up on him and was hiding behind a barrel when they took him. Anyway, like I was saying, they thought he was me. The fact that he wore my Masking Hat only made it more obvious. So they took him, and one yanked the hat off to discover that he was Florin Talonas.”

The ground rumbles as the giant gets to his feet, worry wrinkles on his forehead. “Where is he now? I really hope they don’t hurt him!”

“I followed them back to their camp.”

“How many?” asks Sam.

“Two Drachma Killers. I guess they were the two that survived. I … I don’t know how they survived what Deathdale did to their guildhall, but they did. Hellfire and brimstone, that about sums up what I experienced in Drachma that night. Anyway, I followed them after they took him.”

“And?”

“I heard them discussing their plans,” I say hurriedly. “They’re going to ride to the Source Code Bomb tomorrow and toss him in.”

Lothar gasps. “Toss him in?”

“Or see what happens if they just put his lower half in. I don’t know, Lothar, they’re sick fucks. We should follow them, save Florin, and hell, while we’re there, we should toss the First Artifact in. Just as the Obelisk suggested. Get this mission over with.”

“About that.” Lothar lifts his hand and strokes his beard stubble. “I know that now is not the time for a long discussion, but seeing as we have a little time.”

“Time?”

“Yes, Oric, you said they’d take him in the morning. We have a little time.”

“Early morning. And what if they decide to bail out sooner?”

“Then we will track them. I’m sure Wolf can do it. They have animals with them, do they not?”

“Shire horses. Get to the point, Lothar.”

“Okay then, here is the point: I believe, and I know this may be a bit controversial, but I believe that the Obelisk is wrong.”

I gulp and look up at the scholarly giant. “So it’s not just me?”

“Same here,” Sam chimes in. “Something about throwing an artifact into a moving source code bomb seems primitively naive.”

I wait for lightning to strike one of us, and when it doesn’t, I ask Lothar to continue.

“It all comes down to some passages I read when I was in the Occult Athenaeum, the great forbidden library of the Solidus Academy. From the knowledge derived from your world and given to us – and granted, this knowledge may not be up-to-date – no one has been able to stop the spread of a source code bomb. The Proxima powers that be have kept this quiet, and there aren’t a lot of occurrences of digital terrorism aside from a group known as the Reapers.”

Sam nods. “I know about the Reapers. And I know who to contact regarding them and the source code bomb. How long do you think I have?”

“You’re leaving?” I ask.

“I need to get to my ship and get in contact with someone from a world known as Steam. I’m calling in a favor, a favor ten years in the making but a favor nonetheless.”

“What’s the shortest possible time you think it would take to get info?” I ask.

“Less than an hour.”

“Do it.”

Sam’s Blueshift wristband appears. “I will be back as soon as humanly possible. Be ready to go when I arrive.”

“Hey, before you go …”

“Yes?”

“Not trying to be insensitive here, but Wolf’s hungry, definitely could use a steak or two. And I’d like a burrito.”

Sam raises a very skeptical eyebrow at me.

“You’re right, bring something for Lothar too. A pot roast should do.”

One green flash later and she’s gone.

Chapter Eighteen: Shattering the Game-time Continuum

“Maybe we should do something,” Lothar says.

Sam has been gone all of twenty minutes, and in that time, the giant has paced, drummed his fingers along his chest, and tried multiple times to reread the letter from his friend using the faint light of the fire.

“If you want to move on the bastards, I’m game, but …”

“But what?”

“Be ready to die.”

Lothar huffs. “They’re the Drachma Killers.”

“I know. I’m the one that told you.”

“They’ve never killed a giant. Not many have killed a giant. Your armor, from Jagraj, he was one of less than ten human-sized humans to kill a giant.”

“Human-sized humans? I suppose that makes sense.”

I know Lothar can’t see the horror flicker across my eyes, nor does he know what Deathdale told me, how they tortured her former avatar. The naive giant hasn’t seen a Drachma Killer ride up with a completely skinned human hanging from their saddle. The rape. The maiming. The torture both real and psychological. Lothar doesn’t know.

“If we’re going to do anything, we’ll need Sam,” I finally tell him. “And don’t for one minute think I don’t want to bring the fight to them right now. Hell, I almost did it. I thought about activating my rage ability. I thought about tossing pinecones into the fire and going for a shock and awe campaign. Move in quick. Wolf takes one, I take the other. Only two.”

“You could have done it,” Lothar says, his confidence in my ability something I haven’t heard from him before.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I could have, but …” I glance at Wolf, whose head is darting back and forth between us as we chat. “I lost Wolf once and look what it did to Sam. I couldn’t risk it. I also couldn’t risk my own life. It would have put whatever it is we’re trying to do here in jeopardy.”

“I know,” he says half-heartedly.

“I made a damn promise to myself after the Tags – well, Stater soldiers and mercenaries dressed as Tags – torched Tangka. I would save Unigaea or die trying. And having nearly died in Drachma just a few days back, I’d rather keep brushes with death to a minimum.”

“We need Sam.”

“She’ll give us an advantage. Her magic is something that I’m still coming to grips with in terms of having it at my disposal. That came out wrong. I don’t have it at my disposal, but you know what I mean. I feel we’ve barely scratched the surface of what she can do.”

“I feel that too.”

“So, yes, we’ll wait for her, and hopefully she’ll have some info that will help us deal with the Red Plague. If not, we’ll still rescue Florin. I’ll admit, I didn’t trust him at first.”

“That much was clear!”

“And I still don’t fully, but, and I’m going to feel stupid saying this, if anyone is going to kill him, it’ll be me.”

Lothar’s slight grin drops into a frown.

“You don’t know how much bullshit that guy has put me through, regardless of whether he remembers who he is or not. He killed Sam! He ordered her former avatar’s killing. Okay, that doesn’t resonate the same way it should considering our current circumstances. He led to Deathdale’s death as well.”

“I was under the impression that Deathdale led to her own death.”

“There’s no telling how things would have played out if we hadn’t been ambushed in our hotel room.”

“By the way you’ve made it sound, nothing could have stopped her.”

I picture Deathdale, the explosion, Wolf’s dead body.

“Maybe you’re right,” I finally admit.

“So you want to kill him?”

“I do, but I probably won’t, because as you can see, I’m kind of a softie.”

Lothar gives me a curious look. “As opposed to a hardie?”

“That sounds like a euphemism for an erection, which seems to be the theme of our night.”

“What do you mean?”

“We keep running into dicks.” I laugh nervously, and when I see that he’s not laughing along, I continue. “Lothar, I don’t know what will happen with Florin in the end, but I do know he was buying food for us, which was a kind gesture. Then again, maybe he was planning to poison us.”

“What!?”

“It’s possible. Point is, we can get to the bottom of that later. Right now, our mission should be saving him. That, and figuring out what the hell to do about the source code bomb.”

(^_^)

Sam’s form takes shape thirty minutes later. She immediately falls to the ground and is joined by Wolf, who nudges her with his head and helps her up. The determined look on her face as she smiles at me is something I’ve come to expect from her. Damn, she’s wonderful.

“It just may work,” she says as soon as she’s mounted.

“What do you mean?” Lothar takes a knee next to Sam.

“It is something you mentioned earlier about OMIB-porting. The letter from your friend.”

“Ah. You’re referring to the letter from Tignor,” Lothar touches the front of his robes, “in which he theorized that it may be possible to OMIB-port using algomagic.”

“Algorithmic magic, yes. What I suggest, and tell me if I’m crazy here, is that I cast Reverse Time on the First Artifact.”

Lothar’s eyes light up. “Reverse Time? Please explain.”

“This will bring the First Artifact back the period in which it was created. Hopefully, it will activate the ruby in the scepter and allow us to create a portal.”

I equip the First Artifact and look it over. The ruby at the top is dull at the moment, no sign that it can be activated.

“Those are a lot of variables. How are you certain the portal it creates will be of the OMIB-porting variety?” asks Lothar.

“I’m with Lothar on this one, Sam.”

“I told you about working with the Dream Team ten years ago,” she says to me. “I didn’t exactly work with them, never met them, but I did recover steampunk mech suits for them in the Proxima World known as Steam. Long story short, I remember hearing at the time about an NVA Seed – same thing as the Obelisk – permanently OMIB-porting NPCs to the fantasy world known as Tritania.”

“Interesting,” Lothar says.

“All of this matters because this NVA Seed known as Dolly – the seed of a defunct Proxima world named Cyber Noir – used her first memory to create the portal. Most of this info isn’t commonly known. I had to call on a weapons’ dealer I know in Steam who goes by the nickname Steampunk Santa for the deets. But that’s the gist of it.”

“And the First Artifact is the Obelisk’s equivalent to a first memory, is that what you are hypothesizing?”

“Correct, Lothar.”

“And we can use the artifact to create the portal?”

“Correct again.”

“Did you say Steampunk Santa?”

“Yes,” she tells me.

“Okay, just checking I heard that right.”

Lothar stands and begins pacing, the ground quaking ever so slightly with each step he takes. “It just may work, but we need the coordinates of a location, otherwise the portal may essentially be a black hole with unknown whereabouts on the other side.”

“We’ll make it go to Tritania.”

“How?”

“Another bit of information I discovered. The creators of Unigaea used Tritania as a neuronal framework. Unigaea is basically built on the same model as Tritania, only smaller. It’s a risk, but it’s a risk we have to take. You were right, Lothar, we’re not stopping the source code bomb. This world is about to be turned upside down.”

“Do you at least have the coordinates for Tritania?” he asks.

“I do. Do you have paper?”

“I’ll remember it.”

“Write it down.”

“Fine.” Lothar drops in front of his meditations box and gets out a crisp piece of parchment. Once his quill is wet, he writes down the numbers Sam gives him.

“Eight, Sixty-seven, fifty-three, zero, nine.”

A thought returns to me. “Hey, I hate to interrupt geniuses at work, but did you bring some food?”

Sam looks up at me incredulously.

“What? If we’re going to save Florin, we need to eat something.”

A bag of jerky appears in her hand and she dumps it on the ground in front of her. Wolf goes to town, and as he does so, she takes more food from her list.

“Chinese takeout?” I ask as soon as I see the white boxes. “This is great!”

“Ramjet thought you had enough Mexican food, so he prepared this instead.”

“That smells great!” Lothar says as soon as I open the first box and dig in. Kung-pao chicken never tasted so good, and as I eat the glistening morsels of chicken, I catch Wolf looking up at me. “You won’t like this stuff, boy.”

He barks.

“Now isn’t the time,” I tell him with my mouth full. “Seriously, we need to focus on saving Florin and then testing Sam’s theory. Shit. Hey!” Wolf jumps at me and I take the food away just in time.

“As requested, I brought a pot roast for you, Lothar. Two actually. Come down here, because when I take these out of my list, Wolf is going to go crazy.”

Lothar gets as close as he can to Sam without crushing her. He places his hand out and both pot roasts, held by metal trays, appear in his palm. He quickly eats the food and licks his fingers.

Wolf looks from the giant back to me.

“All gone.” I show him my hands and he barks. “Relax, we have more important things to do.” The warm feelings shared between the three of us quickly filter away as my statement sinks in.

The Drachma Killers, although there are only two, are no laughing matter.

“How do you propose we do it?” Lothar asks me, his brow furrowed.

“Sneak attack. Only way possible. Sam fires off a spell and I run in with my electric shield. Lothar, you provide backup support. Actually, maybe we should send you in first. Yeah. That could work. You could rile them up, and we pick them off. Let’s do that.”

(^_^)

Best laid plans of mice and men and whatnot.

The killers are long gone by the time we arrive at their campsite. Their fire is snuffed out, and just about the only thing left is a puddle of blood reflecting the remnants of the night’s sky.

Crimson on crimson.

“We’re too late!”

“They can’t be that far off,” I tell Lothar, who is slightly out of breath. “It’s been less than two hours. Wolf. Track them.”

With Sam on his back, Wolf starts sniffing at the ground. He moves north, predictably, and then turns to the east.

“Let’s go!” Sam calls out.

We take off once I’m on Wolf’s back, Lothar running behind us. We’ll need to catch up first, then slow down and get to stalking. For now, however, we have ground to cover.

Wolf stops every now and then to make sure he’s hot on their trail, and it isn’t long until we come across a pile of bodies, a few of which are still burning. Lothar coughs, waving away the smell as he tries to catch his breath.

I recognize their red and black armor immediately.

Tagvornin guards.

There are six dead, two still smoldering and the other four in various states of dismemberment. One has been decapitated, his head set on the bloody stump of his neck so he can watch the road. Stuffed in his mouth are severed fingers.

Two others have their throats slit. They lie on their backs with their faces looking at each other. Upon further inspection, I can see that their intestines have been pulled out, split, and tied to their wrists. Viscera cuffs.

“What in the actual fuck?” Sam asks as she looks over two of the female guards, who are nude from the waist up and have had their breasts cut off.

The final guard has his arms and legs cut off and rearranged. He lies starfish style, his legs now where his arms should be and his arms where his legs should be, the light snow beneath him red with blood.

Lothar excuses himself and walks a few paces to the right to vomit.

“Such a waste of a good pot roast,” I say as the giant vomits.

Sam elbows me in the gut.

“Hey!”

“My apologies,” Lothar says as he wipes his mouth. “I have never seen something so vile.”

“We just need to catch up with them, and they can’t be far off now. It takes time to arrange bodies like this.”

“Not that much time,” I tell Sam. She elbows me again. “What do you expect? I’m a Player Killer. I know these things. You should too.”

“Are you saying you’ve done something like this?” Lothar asks, horror in his eyes.

“Fuck no. I said I was a Player Killer, not a mentally deranged serial killer. My guess is they are twenty to thirty minutes ahead. Remember, element of surprise. Just be ready for anything. Fuck, this is stupid.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“We should be testing Sam’s theory about OMIB-porting to Tritania, but here we are instead, trying to get ourselves killed.”

Sam laughs. “I guess that makes us who we are.”

“I was under the impression that outside influences, many of which we have no control over, make us who we are,” Lothar says. The giant now holds his nose in the air, refusing to look down at the Killers’ bloody handiwork.

“We’ll discuss that later. Let’s go!”

Sam, Wolf, and I take off, my heart rate increasing with each step Wolf travels. It is a suicide mission going up against the Drachma Killers, especially at our levels, but what other choice do we have?

There’s not a lot of time to discuss our options. Lothar spots them about twenty minutes later, their forms dark against a snowy hill. The scholarly giant immediately ducks down, even though we’re in a position that will make it difficult for them to see us.

“They’re on horses,” Lothar says, his breath visible in giant clouds of steam. “I believe they are dragging Florin Talonas behind them. Unless that is someone else’s body.”

Sam brandishes her wand.

“Get as close to them as you can,” I tell her and Wolf. “I’ll bail off, and you fire off the first shot. What are you going for?”

“Temporal Decay. I hope to take out their weapons. That should give us some surprise advantage. If you can get a hit in, even a small one, I can work on one of their wounds.”

“Good call.”

“And I’ll be ready,” Lothar whispers, “behind the three of you and ready to offer giant support.”

“I like that, giant support.”

“I thought you would, Oric.”

Pink energy sparks out of the end of Sam’s wand. “I don’t know if this will work on the three of us, but let’s try it anyway. Light Shadow.”

As soon as Sam says the words, it feels as if my lungs have doubled in size. I get the sense that I could run ten miles now without stopping, that I could swim around the continent in a day’s time.

Wolf takes off and I swear I hear a sonic boom as we get moving.

It’s like we’ve entered into a wind tunnel. The Theory of Relativity comes into play – Einstein’s ghost again making his presence known in a dreamworld – and I’ve adjusted to the speed in a matter of moments.

It’s when I leap to the side and hit the ground hard that I realize just how fast we were traveling. I roll like a goddamn concrete tumbleweed tossed from a Tesla eighteen wheeler just as Sam fires her first blast at the two Drachma Killers.

Shit!

The spell doesn’t work, but it does take the Killers off guard.

I hop to my feet, my electric shield on my arm, and my crossbow pistol in my other hand. As Wolf loops back around, I charge – and boy do I fucking charge! – at the Killer with the spiky blond hair.

I slam into his horse.

He flies off as the horse rears up onto its back legs, crying out with terror as electricity courses through its body.

-289 HP! Critical hit!

Sam whips past me; Baldy takes a swipe at her with his morning star and misses.

On high alert is an understatement. If either of these fuckers get a hit on Sam, Wolf or me, we’re fucking toast.

My Splintered Sword in hand and my shield on my other arm, I engage the younger Drachma Killer. He meets me with his staff; I bring my shield up and send him back with a bolt of electricity.

-79 HP!

Confidence swells and I quickly bottle it. If there ever was a time not to get cocky, now is that time.

A grin on the Killer’s face, he swipes his staff at me, and I’m tossed backwards by a purple mana explosion.

“Fuck!” My skin is on fire; boiling water rips through my core and out every orifice of my body.

I stagger to my feet, ignoring the pain, wiping my face to see if I’m bleeding. The blond haired Killer approaches me, his staff at the ready, a giant orb of electric purple light forming at the business end of his staff and a menacing look on his face.

Rage.

“No, not now,” I grit.

I brace myself for what’s to come, pain spiraling up through my body as I get into a defensive position.

The Killer falls, his purple blast goes wide, and I look down to see Florin Talonas, gagged and bound, having just used his legs to take the Killer off his feet.

The horse that Florin is tied to lifts its head and falls back, the electricity I’ve sent surging through it finally killing the magnificent beast.

My opening clear, I stumble over to the Drachma Killer who’s nearly back onto his feet.

Instakill!

+1 Infamy!

I ignore the prompts as I press my blade deeper into the back of his skull.

(^_^)

Florin glances up at me, both his eyes black and his face puffy. Chunks of his hair have been pulled out and his nose has been broken. There’s blood in the whites of his eyes, dried blood on the gag in his mouth.

“Thanks,” I tell him.

He only nods.

Now for the last Killer.

I look right to see Baldy turning in circles on his horse as he tracks Wolf and Sam.

A blue fire lifts from the end of his morning star and cuts into the ground before Wolf, sending the Tagvornin beast to the ground. Sam flies off and hits hard as well, her paralyzed legs sliding to the right in a cringe-worthy way.

Rage.

“Saving it!” I scream at the voice inside my head.

I advance towards the Killer on horseback, my electric shield before me, and I’m just about to slam into his horse when a blazing blue blast tears me off my feet.

It throws me backwards a good five yards. I land next to Florin, the wind completely knocked out of me.

“Fuck!” I cough, tasting blood in my mouth. Shock comes over me as I realize that my arms aren’t working.

My leg muscles balloon and contract in an excruciating way. My biceps feel as if they’re about to burst. It’s as if each rib in my chest is contracting, like a slowly squeezing hand on the stress ball that is my inner organs.

I sense the Drachma Killer hopping down from his horse. He stands over me now, his feet on either side of my head as a sick mutated blade spreads up his arm. Biomatter lifts off the weapon as it spreads; pulsing acid green veins swell on his arm as the blade hardens.

He sneers at me, brings his blade up and …

Florin Talonas rolls over, using his elbows to prop himself up over my body.

The Killer’s blade goes through Florin’s chest, and is just about to pierce my armor when the ground rumbles.

Lothar kicks the living shit out of the Drachma Killer.

So focused was he on growing his mutated weapon that he didn’t hear the giant approach, nor does he stand a chance against Wolf, who has now latched onto Baldy’s throat.

All this happens in the peripheral as I try to process the fact that Florin just saved me.

He’s on top of me now, a gag in his mouth, the life leaving his body, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. I’m still paralyzed; and I’m well aware, listening to the sound of Florin’s last breath, that Sam won’t be able to save him.

Florin bleeds out onto my armor, his face pressed next to mine, his hair sticky with blood.

The sense of feeling returns to my body. I roll Florin off, sigh bitterly and stagger over to the last Drachma Killer.

Wolf has ripped the bald man’s throat to shreds. He steps aside as soon as I approach, saving the kill for me as always, blood dripping from Wolf’s chin.

Baldy spits blood as he curses at me. No fear in his eyes, no trembling. He’s ready to die.

My blade comes up, and with as much strength as I can muster, I give the man the death he so desires.

Instakill!

Infamy + 1

Chapter Nineteen: Predestined Randomness

“Florin’s dead,” Lothar says, now crouched before the former governor of Stater’s body. “We’ve failed.”

“Relax,” I tell the scholarly giant as I limp over to Sam. Wolf joins me in a matter of seconds.

“Let’s get this over with.” Her Book of Time appears in her lap and she flips to a page covered in chicken scratch.

“Here?” I ask, still out of breath.

“Is there any reason we should wait any longer?”

“We should ride to the plague,” I say. “Do it there.”

“No need to ride very far,” Lothar says as he stands. He walks to the top of the hill and looks to the north, his hand shielding his eyes. “I believe it is less than two miles away.”

“You can see it from up there?”

“I can.”

I join him a minute or so later and gasp when I see a hundred foot high red wall of translucent lava.

It has moved over the crest of a mountain in the distance, and from our vantage point, I can tell that it is quickly spreading down the slope. At the rate it’s going, my guess is that it will be here in the next thirty minutes or so.

“Is it me, or does it look like it is moving quickly?”

Lothar nods. “It is definitely moving faster than I anticipated.”

“Sam, you have to see this,” I call down the hill. She joins us moments later, on wolfback, her Book of Time tucked under her arm.

“Damn.”

“Damn is right.” I place my hand on Wolf’s head and scratch him behind the ears.

“Help me down,” she tells me. “We need to do this now.”

“There’s something else out there,” Lothar says. “Hold on.”

He turns back to his meditations box, which is about halfway up the hill. I help Sam down, and she lifts her own legs and places them before her. Her Book of Time now open across her lap, she returns to the same page she was on earlier, which I can only assume is the Reverse Time spell.

Wolf barks and glances from Sam to me.

After he has rejoined us, Lothar brings his monocular to his face and aims it at the source code bomb. “Just as I suspected.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“People are throwing themselves into the Plague.”

“Wait, did you say throwing themselves?”

“That’s exactly what I’m seeing.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I suppose this is part of the human condition that NPCs have picked up on.”

“Committing suicide?”

“In a time of great calamity, yes.”

“Get the First Artifact out,” Sam says briskly. “We’re doing this.”

Doubt rises in my chest and I swallow it. This is what we’ve agreed to do. And with this thought comes another: This may be our final course of action.

I equip the scepter and look it over. The primitive design is at odds with the beautiful ruby at its tip.

“Where do you want the First Artifact?” I ask her.

“Just put it on the ground; I don’t want to risk the spell hitting your hand.”

I place it on the ground before her as Sam lifts her wand, glittery pink magic trickling out of the tip.

“Wait.” I crouch before her and swallow hard. “How … if it kills you, how will we get in contact?”

“We’ll get in contact in Tritania, or the real world.”

“But how, Sam?” I ask. “Tritania is a lot larger than Unigaea. Even if this works, how will we get in contact there?”

“By our handles.”

“Oric Rune, Sam Raid.”

“Two short names meant for one another!” We both look up at Lothar and he shrugs. “This is the end of the world as we know it! No time for formalities.”

Holy shit, the giant is right.

I grin at Sam and reach my arms out to hug her.

“Careful with the wand,” I joke.

Wolf barks, walking in a circle, and I swear the only thing keeping him from tackling both of us and licking our faces is the points I put in MIND, which have made him more considerate.

“But how?” I ask as I pull back. “How will we get in touch up there? Or in the next place?”

“Don’t worry, Oric.” She laughs softly. “You act like we don’t live in the 21st century where everything is accessible in a matter of moments. It would take Ramjet all of two milliseconds to find you, in a Proxima world and up there.”

“That’s fast!” adds the scholarly giant.

“And you’ll do it? You’ll try to find me?”

“I already have found you. Don’t worry,” she says, a light behind her eyes I haven’t seen before.

“Maybe we could meet in real life, in Indianapolis.”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t know how long it will take for me to regain my strength after being permalogged in.”

“Let’s not worry about that now.”

“Okay, you’re right,” I say, with regret heavy on my heart. I know I should say more, but this is all I can seem to get out: “But you promise to contact me?”

“I do.”

“I mean, it, Sam. Cyn.”

“You have my word, Eric.”

(^_^)

Sam lifts her wand and points it at the First Artifact. She whispers the phrase, “Reverse Time,” and the light from her wand strikes the scepter.

I step back as the intensity of her magic increases, evident in the way the life is completely and utterly sucked out of Sam’s body.

It begins with falling hair. The effects of the spell appear on her skin as age marks, bruise colored bags sagging beneath her eyes. She loses her luster. Wrinkles move across her forehead, and her shoulders sink, the skin tightens on her frame, veins appear on her hands.

Sam’s eyes roll back into her head and she collapses.

Wolf whips himself into a frenzy.

He barks, nudges her, looks at me with concern in his blue-green eyes, all to no avail. I keep my emotions in check, biting my lip as I hold back tears.

Lothar is the first to speak after Sam has expired.

“Goodbye, Sam Raid,” he says, the sadness in his voice something I’ve never heard from the socially daft giant.

“The scepter has changed,” I manage to say. Not able to fully process watching Sam age to death, I lift the First Artifact and focus on the task at hand.

It’s what she would have wanted, I tell myself.

“What do you mean the scepter has changed?”

I turn away from Sam – out of sight, out of mind. Lothar drops to a knee and I show him the grip of the scepter, which now has carved cubes with numbers on it that can swivel.

“It’s for coordinates,” he says almost immediately. Wolf barks, still not sure what has happened to Sam.

“I know, Wolf, I know. Just … we’ll deal with that in a moment. We’ll see her again, dammit.” I choke back a sob. “I know we will, dammit. Lothar, what are the coordinates to Tritania?”

“Eight, sixty-seven, fifty-three, zero, nine.”

“Eight, six, seven, five, three, oh, nine,” I mumble as I get the cubes in place. “Okay. How do I activate it?”

Lothar considers this for a moment. “My guess would be it has something to do with algomagic, which Sam had but you do not possess.”

“What about my rage ability? Is that algomagic?”

“Brilliant idea, Oric! Your rage, given to you by the Obelisk, is most definitely a form of algomagic. Do it. Activate your ability, see if it works.”

“But I can only activate it once per day …”

“I believe you mentioned back in Tael that it lasted longer than you expected. Is this correct?”

I instantly recall the long overnight journey for which I was fueled mostly by my rage ability and the stamina-boosting Jatla root. “That’s right, it has been lasting longer.”

“Then do it, rage, and open a portal.”

“Um … ?” I glance up at the eager giant.

“What are you waiting for, Oric?”

Rage.

“Well?”

“Let me try again,” I say, steeling myself.

RAGE!

My veins pulse, my muscles enlarge, a million voices scream inside my skull. Everything is jittery now, my vision pane flashing at its edges. I lift the scepter, and as soon as I do, blue energy spreads down my arm.

The blue energy meets the cubes on the grip of the First Artifact. The cubes fill with light, each filling completely before the energy moves to the next cube. The energy passes the cubes, moves down the shaft, and bubbles at the bottom of the red ruby.

A black hole materializes before me, blue energy from the scepter attached to its perimeter.

I take a step back, and the portal enlarges. I take a few more steps away, and it’s now big enough for Lothar to theoretically crawl through.

Wolf goes bonkers. He barks, his tail tucked between his legs, and his ears pressed back as he moves away from the portal.

“I’ll test it,” Lothar announces.

I look up at him incredulously. “Are you sure?”

“Someone has to do it, and since this was based on my suggestion, I will be that person.”

“How will I know if it works?”

“You won’t, until you enter yourself.”

I nod at Lothar, proud to know him, proud to be friends with someone so brave. “I’ll go to Tael, I’ll get Gadsaa, anyone else that wants to go. Your parents. Any giant, you have my word, Lothar.”

“Thank you, Oric. You’ve been a great friend.” He smiles faintly, his eyes flickering behind his oval glasses. “I’m glad to have known you.”

The scholarly giant approaches the portal, which has started to suck in whirling snow and any debris in its vicinity.

The wind moving past my head is weak now, but I have the feeling it will pick up in intensity the longer the portal is open. I can still feel my rage ability, but something about it is different, hollow even.

I don’t feel the anger I’ve felt in the past, but I still feel as if my nerves are on fire.

“Goodbye, Lothar!” I call after him.

“Save as many as you can,” Lothar says with a sad smile on his face. “You are, after all, the Last Warrior, the last hero of this dying world.” He turns back to me and lifts his hand to wave. “Please, once you get to Tritania, find me.”

With that, Lothar ducks into the vortex and his body filters away.

(^_^)

I lower the scepter and the portal shrinks in size.

The way it shrinks reminds me of water going down a drain. I don’t know how long the portal will remain, but something tells me it is tied to the fact that I still have the First Artifact equipped.

The soil next to me begins to morph.

I draw my blade, ready for anything. Wolf barks wildly as roots lift from the ground, forming the body of a slim woman. Armor grows over her body, her disco ball eyes take shape, and the back of her helmet elongates until she resembles a humanoid insect.

“It’s you.” I instinctively lower my weapon.

I hear the screech of a griffin overhead. One glance up and I see, clear in the early morning light, that a griffin is descending from the sky.

“There isn’t much time,” the Obelisk says, her voice that of a million whirring insects.

“I don’t know if it worked,” I tell her, my heart heavier than it’s ever been. With both Sam and Lothar gone, I’m completely alone, again.

“It has worked, Oric, you’ve done it.”

I bow my head, my hair falling into my face. “I don’t know what I’ve done.”

“You’ve made it possible for this world to continue in another place, a stronger world, Tritania, a location that has ample space for the citizens of Unigaea. Now I need you to fly, I need you to save as many people as you can.”

“And Wolf?”

“You can meet him there, in the next world.”

I whistle and Wolf comes running. My hand goes on his head, and I scratch him behind the ear. It’s hard to look at him, hard to accept what it is I’m about to do.

“You ready, boy?” I ask, entirely afraid of what happens next.

My voice quivers as I say his name once more, as I tell him how good of a dog he is, as I let him know that no matter what, no matter how, we will be reunited again. “You’re my best friend,” I tell him, tears streaming down my face.

He pants as he takes me in, his blue-green eyes filled with love for me.

I lift the scepter and the portal grows in size.

Wolf whines; I refuse to look down at him, knowing all too well that this could be the last time I’ll see him.

Who really knows? A new world, new rules, new location – there’s no telling what the future will hold, and if that future actually includes a reunion with Wolf.

“How will I find him?” I ask the Obelisk, who stands beside me now.

“You will find him, Oric; your souls are connected, and no matter the size of the Proxima world, souls as tethered as yours always find each other.”

“Get in,” I tell him, my hands trembling.

Wolf barks and drops into a playful stance.

“Get in, dammit, I’m serious, Wolf. I have some people to save.”

I fall to one knee and he joins me immediately, licking the tears from my face.

“I’m serious, Wolf, get in the damn portal!” I laugh through my tears. “My god! There’s something I thought I’d never say to you.”

He barks again and again as the griffin circles above.

“Wolf, I’ll find you. First thing I do. Now get in, dammit!” I choke back a sob and get back to my feet. “Go on, boy, you can do it.”

As the griffin flaps its wings, Wolf takes a few steps closer to the vortex.

“Do it, Wolf, dammit, do it now!”

The big Tagvornin canine, the best companion I’ve ever had, takes one last look at me and trots into the portal.

He’s gone in a flash.

A sinking feeling in my chest nearly brings me back to my knees.

“You’ll find him, Oric,” the Obelisk assures me.

A cold wind blasts against my face as the griffin lands behind me. The majestic lion eagle snaps its beak and whips its tail at the ground as its wings settle.

“And this is my ride?” I ask the Obelisk.

“It is.”

I take a deep breath. “And what about you?”

“Do not worry about saving me, Oric. An NVA Seed must remain with its world. If I leave, all of Unigaea will implode.”

“I’ll fly to each city getting as many people as I can. I’ll start with the Tagvornin camp, Drachma, Metica, Tael, Tin Ingot, Mohar, Karuna, Stater, Solidus. Any place I can get, I’ll go.” I sniff, steel myself, and look the Obelisk square in the eyes. “You have my word.”

She looks down at the bodies of Florin Talonas, Sam Raid, and the two Drachma Killers. “I’ve given all NPCs free will. Some may go, others will stay.”

“That’s fine,” I say as I place my hand on the griffin’s feathered neck. The beast is instantly calmed by my touch. With a single eye locked on me, it lowers its body and I mount up, the First Artifact now at my side.

“Good luck, Oric, and thank you.”

“Good luck to you,” I say as the wave of emotion I just experienced is replaced by the will to succeed.

The griffin lifts into the air; the bodies below grow smaller with each flap of its wings.

I’ve never felt surer of something in my life. I’ve also never felt more frightened. One look over my shoulder and I see the Red Plague moving on the horizon, a wall of utter annihilation put here to destroy Unigaea.

But circumstance put me here to save it.

Predestined randomness.

I can’t help but laugh bitterly at the thought as the griffin flies higher into the sky.

Thanks again, Oric.

You’re welcome, Obelisk.

The end.

Continue reading for more information about the next Last Warrior book. The Unigaea trilogy may be over, but there is more in store for Oric and Wolf!

Back of the Book Shit

I’ll keep it brief, because I need you to review this book and if not this one, at least the first book in the series.

Remember, your reviews are what help these books reach other readers.

So even if it’s a short review, it is very much appreciated.

The Last Warrior of Tritania

Yes, you read that right.

This is not the end of the story for Oric and Wolf, but it is the end of their Unigaean journey. Some time next year, I will work to publish a Last Warrior of Triania series, which will take place as soon as Oric has finished transporting people from Unigaea to Tritania.

New avatar, beginner stats, a fresh start over.

If you’ve started reading Fantasy Online, you’ll find Oric and Wolf in the second book going forward. Remember the timeline: Last Warrior takes place in 2069, Fantasy Online in 2075, so there is a six year time difference.

Naturally, The Last Warrior of Tritania will take place in 2069, so don’t let that time gap confuse you.

What to expect from the Last Warrior of Tritania?

Expect some twists, some familiar faces, and the answers to a few questions not included in the first trilogy. I believe these books will be longer, but I’ve yet to start writing them yet so we will have to see.

Backstory imminent

The Last Warrior of Unigaea (yes, Unigaea), will have a backstory published early next year. The backstory will take place soon after Oric has met Wolf. It will be in a LitRPG collection of stories, so look for that at the end of February 2018. I will try to remember to update the link here, if I don’t, you’ll find it on my author profile.

Join us

The Proxima Galaxy Facebook group, like the galaxy itself, continues to expand. Readers in this group have helped me craft together a Wikipedia page, they receive exclusive content (such as free ebooks, early previews, etc), and they are, if I may say, a pretty wild and fun group.

So if you’re on Facebook, join the group and get connected.

I can’t tell you how much your support means to me. I am blessed that I get to write a story about a man and his wolf in an online world and people actually read it. I appreciate the fact that you’ve let me borrow your mind space to tell my tale, and rest assured that the tale is far from over.

Thanks to all my wonderful readers, betas, my editor, narrators, and author-amigos alike. I’ll list everyone out another time. As for now, it is time to write, write, write!

There will be more Oric and Wolf (and Sam and Lothar and a little solar mage who will remain nameless).

Yours in sanity,

Harmon Cooper

Dec 2017

Fantasy Online

Get it here!

Nineteen-year-old Ryuk Matsuzaki and his best friend Tamana decide to start over with new avatars. When Tamana is suddenly killed right in front of him in a Tokyo subway, Ryuk knows there is only one place he can search for answers –Tritania, the world’s most popular online fantasy world. Standing in his way are a mysterious guild known as the Shinigami, and his older brother, a Yakuza crime lord hell-bent on squashing his dreams.

Note: Oric and Wolf appear in Fantasy Online Book Two and continue their adventure in that series!

Join in the conversation!

Is there a place to mingle with other writers and fans of the litRPG genre? Of course there is! Check it out on Facebook here:

I also frequent the LitPRG Society. Click the picture below to join this one or search it on Facebook. This is another great place to meet other readers, authors, and find out about the genre.