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

Tom’s brain experienced a sudden, horrifying realization as the world around him began to dim.

Oh god, I think I’m….

***The Mannequin***

The mannequin didn’t have a name, but that was fine. He didn’t particularly want or need one. He’d been custom built and awakened for one singular task. That was to keep Casey and by extension her daughter, as safe as possible.

Names didn’t particularly help with that goal. Everything he did was viewed through the lens of ‘how beneficial is this to Casey’s survival?’.

He didn’t need to eat or sleep. He saw just fine somehow, despite not having eyes like the humans. He’d never really stopped to consider how he knew what all these things were, or what they meant. He just knew them.

An adult level intellect and memories, imprinted wholesale on a block of wood. The How didn’t really matter, and the Why was already baked in. The mannequin was too busy to suffer from existential crises. It had Ikigai. Fucktons of Ikigai.

Right now, that meant creeping around the perimeter with his brother…or sister? Didn’t matter. They were maintaining low profiles on opposite sides of the camp, moving slug-slow, keeping watch on the darkness for anything out of the ordinary.

He would have made a ghillie suit if there had been any shrubs, but the bare mountain left them completely exposed, so unfortunately whatever they saw would see them back. Their best camouflage was to act like lifeless pieces of wood.

It worked with the three stooges.

Without warning, a bronze spear fell out of the sky and drove itself through his chest, aided by an Ability of some kind, no doubt.

The mannequin’s thoughts grew fuzzy. It was hard to think with a spear through his core. Still, even with this confusion going on, one question was raised above all others.

How can I benefit Casey’s survival?

Make noise. Waken other defenders.

The Mannequin lurched to its feet, slamming its blade against its own wooden forearm.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Another spear buried itself in the mannequin's chest, tearing him in half.

“Everybody Up! Who’s in the cave? sound off!” The mannequin was pleased to hear the other humans awaken before its consciousness ceased existing.

***Jebediah Trapper***

Jeb’s chest was being crushed by a thick metal beam, pressing him painfully into his hard G.I. mattress. He glanced to his side and saw Tyler’s feet behind all that collapsed debris, out in the hallway, where he’d been coming back from the head.

At least he didn’t get hurt, Jeb thought, his vision darkening as the metal beam collapsed his heart and lungs.

“FFUCK!” Tyler shouted, his left hand bleeding as he picked up a piece of jagged metal and heaved it aside.

“Hold on, man, I’m getting you out of there,” Tyler shouted, and Jeb could see the man’s hand reach down and grab the beam on his chest. “You’re gonna be okay, I promised!” The blood from Tyler’s hand dripped onto the wound, and Jeb felt…something open inside him.

No scion of mine is going to accept what something as petty as fate has decided for them. Use it.

No. No, this didn’t happen. I survived. Tyler was in the room! I SURVIVED.

Jeb tried to trace the scar on his palm, but his thumb failed to find the reassuring proof of his attempts to save Tyler.

Use the promise.

NO!

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! Tyler began slamming against the beam, moving it ever so slightly off Jeb’s chest, but the damage was done. He was going to die.

No, this is wrong! This isn’t what happened!

Take his FATE!

Jeb lunged up, his eyes wide open, but seeing nothing. He could feel the sweat rolling down his body as he gasped in a desperate lungful of air.

Right, we’re in the cave.

When his vision adapted, he could see Casey’s elbow was digging into his chest. Probably what had started the dream. He could feel Smartass sleeping on his hair. It was starting to get unkempt from lack of scissors.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Jeb turned cold. Am I still dreaming? He fingered the scar, finding the reassuring lump on his palm.

No! Real noise! Real noise bad!

Jeb instantly leapt up from his cubby in the corner of the hollowed out cave, startling Casey awake.

“Everybody up! Who’s in the cave? sound off!”

“Amanda.”

“Brett.”

“Casey.”

…

“Ron here,” Ron said when Jessica failed to speak.

“Where’s Jessica?”

“She was still out when I went to bed,” Ron said, yawning.

“Shit,” Jeb drew Myst out of his Core and wrapped himself in a bubble before ducking his head outside.

“She’s probably just banging on some armor out there or something,” Ron said, rubbing his eyes.

Jeb spotted the two mannequins, perforated by bronze spears and completely immobile.

Nope. Definitely not Jessica.

Jeb jerked his head back just in time for a bronze spear to break through the bubble and sink through a foot of solid stone beside him.

Okay, no way in hell bronze can do that.

If we step outside, we get perforated. If we let them approach from downslope, they’ll be able to throw straight into the cave, and our shield isn’t gonna stop throws that strong.

I might be able to fly out fast enough to avoid getting hit, but I’d be a sitting duck after that.

What we need are some disposable mooks.

Jeb glanced over at Casey, a downright vicious idea bubbling to the surface.

***Ch’goth, Master of the Hunt, level 32***

The huntmaster crept closer to the cave entrance, where the evidence of the fleshy creatures was strewn about the ground.

Their nonliving sentinels had been no challenge at all, but the creatures had already demonstrated that they were cunning and resilient, so he was not taking any chances. They were slowly advancing on the sides of the cave, spears at the ready.

The huntmaster had considered going downslope to throw directly into the