Apocalypse: Generic System Macronomicon (miss read books TXT) 📖

the Assassin class, with twenty-five Body and thirty Nerve, and he was a cripple with baseline physical stats.

By all accounts she should be able to walk over and snap his neck…but she didn’t know what he could do in response, and that made her hesitate.

“Let me ask you something, miss…” The green-eyed cripple asked, leaning on his spear and watching her with an exhausted gaze.

“Jessica.”

“Jessica?” I knew a Jessica in middle school once, we didn’t get along.” He paused, staring out into space, his jaw slack. “No, you can’t have one, you didn’t bring me anything! Fine, if you fix the trap you can have one. One!”

Jessica considered making a dash for it as the crazy man argued with the air, but a fraction of a second later, she heard a rustle behind her. When she peered over her shoulder, the sticks and leaves covering the pit trap were beginning to reassemble themselves, as if by magic.

No, it’s definitely magic. This guy can move shit with his mind.

Jessica began weighing her choices.

“You were going to ask me something?”  She prompted, and the haunted looking man refocused on her.

“Right.” He wiggled a finger at some of the bandages on the supply pile, and they shot through the air, landing in his hand. If she had any doubt about what he could do, they were assuaged. “Is there anyone else left?”

“Everyone else is dead.” Jessica said.

“So if you killed me, it would just be you,” he said, offering her the bandage with an outstretched hand.

“Yeah, I guess.” She took it and quickly wrapped some around the cut over her nose. She’d long since gotten over giving two shits about petty flesh wounds.

“So, wanna work together?” He asked, hope written plainly across his face, along with an undercurrent of desire. She’d been around long enough to spot it, even when men tried to act nonchalant. At this point it just meant they weren’t gay.

Still, after George…

“How do I know I can trust you?” she demanded.

The emaciated man frowned.

“Well, I suppose if at any point you’re not happy working together, you can just…” He tapped his gimp leg. “Walk away. A brisk walk would probably be enough.”

Despite all the horror she’d seen over the last week, that still managed to wring a laugh out of her. It was so funny she cried.

***Jeb***

Jeb knew he had her when she started laughing.

Get ‘em laughing, as grandpappy used to say.

Then she started sobbing, and Jeb wasn’t so sure.

Then she started laughing again, and Jeb was pretty sure she wasn’t laughing at his joke, but rather the sheer horror and futility of it all. What else could they do but laugh when the world was going crazy?

That got a chuckle out of Jeb, and pretty soon he was cry-laughing too.

I haven’t spoken to anyone except Redbeard in a week and half. God, this is exactly what I needed.

In the blink of an eye – literal fucking blink of an eye – Jessica was on top of him, with a knife pressing into his throat. She moved many times faster than he could react.

“I’m not having sex with you.” she said, brilliant blue eyes narrowed.

“Unless I miss my guess,” Jeb said, looking down at the knife that had disappeared under his chin. He could still feel it, though. “You could probably rip me in half. So…coercing you seems like a bad idea.” Lots of squishy parts in tearing range.

Her eyes narrowed, and she held up her other hand.

“Twist my hand, hard as you can.”

Jeb did so, but it felt like trying to arm wrestle a bear made out of solid marble.

“Guess you’re right. You don’t have any freaky mind-powers, do you?”

“No ma’am. Your leg armor is pinching my skin, though, so if you could-“

“EEEEEE!” the sound of dozens of angry kruskers stampeding through the underbrush grabbed their attention.

“Shit,” Jeb cursed, scurrying to his feet – foot – as she stepped off of him, scanning the woods.

“What level did you say you were?” she asked with a frown.

“Including the six I got from that guy?” Jeb asked, pointing at the now-covered pit-trap.

“Yeah.”

Status

Jebediah Trapper

Unclassed, Level 6

Body 5 +

Myst 15 +

Nerve 8 +

6 Ability Points remaining.

“Six,” Jeb said with a shrug, hesitating a moment before dropping all six points into Myst

Jebediah Trapper

Unclassed, Level 6

Body 5 +

Myst - 21 +

Nerve 8 +

Confirm?

“Oh god, we’re gonna die.” Jessica said.

“Oh god, I hope this doesn’t hurt as much as the first time,” Jeb whispered before poking the Confirm button hanging in the air in front of him.

The good news was that it didn’t, in fact, hurt as much the second time around.

The bad news was that meant he didn’t pass out, instead having to sit through what amounted to an ice pick headache worth writing home about.

It wasn’t helped by the squealing cries of dozens of kruskers falling into pit traps along the edges of the Safe Zone, filling the pits up in a matter of seconds.

You have gained a level!

You have gained a level!

You have gained a level!

You have gained a level!

“look at that, level ten already..” Jeb said between grunts as he jabbed The Finisher down into the pit, stabbing the writhing boars about the neck and face as best he could.

It was tough work, but it was netting him levels at a tremendous pace by weaponizing the Safe Zone. Even after the kruskers had filled up the pits, they were unable to push through the invisible barrier just on the other side, squealing like mad and pushing mindlessly forward in a berserker rage.

“You’re out of breath, and sweating like a pig.” Jessica noted.

“Well, excuse me for having