Apocalypse: Generic System

by Macronomicon

  It was a much different thing, fighting these creatures on a level playing field rather than shooting through the safe-zone’s walls. The zombies helped, sure, but it wasn’t nearly the same.

  The biggest advantage that humans had was their power-to-size ratio. These monsters couldn’t quite jam themselves in close enough to truly swarm the defenders, instead attacking twelve or so at a time while the humans took turns fighting off the creatures.

  Jeb, for his part, put his back to a lumbering zombie the size of an elephant, and whipped his knives through the air, picking off the monsters here and there that seemed to hold an advantage.

  It was a chaotic mess, but everyone eventually fell into a rhythm, hacking away at baddies with mechanical efficiency. Even Amanda took out a few of the ones that got too close to her as she ran back and forth from the middle of the pack like a midfielder, reattaching freshly severed limbs and closing flesh ripped open by claws before sprinting back to the middle, as close as possible to the unknown Next Injury, and as far from danger as possible.

  Jessica was…

  The assassin was leaping from monster to monster in midair, using them as footing in between gouts of blood as she did some anime-level shit.

  “Jeb!” Ron shouted over the roar of combat, dragging his attention away from Jessica’s aerial gymnastics.

  “What!?”

  “Something fucky’s going on!” Ron shouted.

  “You’ll have to be more specific!”

  It had been a long two weeks.

  Ron motioned to some of his nearby zombies, dragging corpses toward them. The corpses were two white tigers with clouds around their feet that somehow allowed them to run on the air. In death, the clouds had dispersed.

  “What am I supposed to be looking at?” Jeb asked.

  “The face!”

  It only took a moment for Jeb to spot it: the human brain is good with faces.

  Both the tigers had identical scars across their left eye. Matter of fact, the tiger’s faces looked fairly identical, too.

  “Twins…with identical scars?” Jeb asked, hoping that was the answer. Ron shook his head and pointed to one of his zombies. It was a giant white tiger with a scar over its left eye.

  “Ah, damnit.”

  Two was a coincidence, three was a pattern. These weren’t identical twins with matching scars. These were created monsters, stamped off of an assembly line.

  The implications were frightening.

  The most important of which was that the swarm wasn’t going to end anytime soon…if ever.

  “I gotta tell Freeman!”

  Ron nodded, kneeling down to touch the two corpses. A highly concentrated spark of purple energy leapt between his fingertip and the corpses, and they opened their eyes, the clouds forming around their feat as they jumped off the ground and began fighting the creatures above them.

  Jeb swam through the thick haze of the battlefield, aiming for the front of the line, where Freeman was leading the march toward the tortoise.

  Freeman’s fighting style was…effective.

  The old Cajun wore some kind of cestus –spiky gloves – on his hands and phased through creature’s attacks to deliver bone-splintering strikes on their noses. It seemed no matter what the man was fighting, he’d punch it right in the snoot. Matter of fact, he didn’t see the old man attack anything anywhere but the face.

  More often than not, it worked, too.

  So he’s got phasing as a Class skill, and Luck as a Myst ability. I can see how that would be hard to compete with.

  As Jeb thought that, one of the charging monster’s tripped over its allies, toppling to the ground in front of Freeman, the ten-foot tall creature’s snoot in ideal booping distance.

  Freeman punched the creature’s nose so hard it crumpled like a fruit-roll up. Or perhaps like the way a car wraps around an oak tree after hitting it at a hundred and twenty.

  Another one tried to use the old man’s distraction to claw him from behind, and the claws simply slid through the cajun’s back to no effect.

  Jeb approached, clomping past Freeman’s allies as the Cajun took out the offending creature, its eyeball popping out of its skull.

  “Freeman!” Jeb shouted, getting the old man’s attention.

  “Jeb? Wha’ye doin ‘ere?”

  “The monsters are copies!” Jeb said. “They’re coming off an assembly line! They’re not gonna slow down or end!”

  Freeman frowned, then glanced back at the people fighting behind him, panting, sweat dripping from their faces as they staved off the onslaught of monsters.

  He looked back to the tortoise that was looming ever larger over them.

  “Don’t matter,” Freeman said, shaking his head. “Don’t change wha’ we gotta do.”

  “You really think everyone’s gonna last that long!?” Jeb demanded.

  “Nose tells me, we don’ finish dis today, we don’ finish at’al.” He said, tapping his nose.

  Where does he get that? Jeb thought to himself. Looking more closely he spotted Myst rolling off of the man’s body like heat from a furnace.

  Is he burning through his reserves to get this done?

  Jeb looked at their situation with a critical eye. Attrition was a bitch, but the zombies were doing their part, giving people a chance to rest or heal, keeping the enemies from attacking more than a few at a time.

  We just might have enough to get there, but we won’t have enough for the trip back. If they won, Jeb expected to be teleported out of the Tutorial, but otherwise they would be slaughtered. Was it worth a shot? Probably. Jeb was tempted to believe it.

  As long as Ron can keep up with demand, we might actually be able to make it. Sucker must be leveling like crazy.

  Some god with a twisted sense of humor must have been listening to Jeb’s thoughts, because it was at that exact moment that the horde of zombies surrounding them went feral and started attacking humans indiscriminately.

  Jeb felt a pinch on his back as something broke the skin, and he turned to see the zombie bear he’d trusted his back to being flung away by its paw. In its place were dozens more undead of every shape and size, charging mindlessly.

  What the hell. WHAT THE HELL!?

  “Yer gonna wanna check on tha’!” Freeman shouted, crushing a charging monster’s skull before punching a zombie trying to bite him in its face, exploding the head like a watermelon.

  Jeb dropped his knives and picked himself up, deftly weaving through the chaos, with the intention of posing a sternly worded WTF. Possibly including murder.

  Jeb gained a little too much altitude trying to navigate the battle and a flying creature swooped down on top of him from behind, claws clamping down on his body, catching both his leg armor and skull armor triggers, sending it flying violently away, but leaving a gouge on his torso.

  It wasn’t serious enough to trigger the traps he’d left on the cane, but it burned like fire across his ribs.

  Damn, Jeb thought, lowering his altitude as he approached Ron’s Last Known Location, dropping to the ground and catching himself on his cane.

  There was nothing there but a splotch of blood on the ground. Then again, there was blood everywhere, so Jeb didn’t have any solid evidence, but something inside him told him something bad had happened to Ron.

  The humans were being pushed hard now, forced to close ranks into a tight knot of survivors to fend off both the undead and the tortoise’s guardians.

  If Ron was still alive, he was probably being flung by Jeb’s Ejector Seat back towards the Safe Zone.

  Do they attack when he’s out of range of them? Or is it because he’s dead? Or something else?

  He didn’t have much more time to think about it, as a flicker of motion to his left caught his attention.

  He turned to see one of Eddie’s archers stumbling backwards, an arrow embedded in his shoulder. He’d tried to shoot Jeb, and Jeb’s projectile traps had caught the arrow and sent it back.

  In a fractio
n of a second, it became clear what had happened.

  Eddie’s crew had attacked Ron when Jeb was no longer close enough to protect him. They’d either knocked the ginger kid out or wounded him grievously, triggering Jeb’s Ejector Seat. That was why Ron was nowhere to be seen, and it was why his zombies were acting up.

  “Son of a bitch,” Jeb muttered glancing at the knot of men breaking away from the back of the group, fighting their way toward the Safe Zone and abandoning the rest of them in the process. They had obviously preemptively killed the undead around them, and were making steady progress away from the main force.

  I gotta get Freeman to sound a retreat, this is going tits-up faster than a coked up squirrel!

  Jeb turned to get the old man’s attention, but was brought to a halt when he felt white hot pain sear through his chest, paralyzing his back and lungs, allowing him nothing more than a soft gasp of pain as his assailant savagely twisted the blade through his liver before yanking it out.

  Jeb staggered forward, but he couldn’t keep his balance with one foot, and he toppled to the ground, his blood mixing into the mud underneath him.

  Jeb heard someone spit, and felt a little wet hit the back of his skull before Eddie stepped over him.

  You son of a bitch, Jeb thought, trying and failing to get his noodly arms under him, trying to stop the bleeding.

  Jeb blacked out.

  Chapter 12: Indestructible*

  ***12 minutes, 47 seconds remaining until Safe Zone expires.***

  ***Jessica Stile***

  Jessica woke up with a start and winced in pain. Her left eye was swollen shut, and her entire body ached to hell. Fresh gashes covered every inch of her body where razor sharp claws had shredded her fancy armor, treating it more like a gentle suggestion than enchanted steel.

  To say nothing about the bruising from all the wounds the chainmail did stop.

  The last thing she remembered…she and the remaining people had formed into a tight knot, gradually retreating from the World Tortoise while under constant assault.

  People were dropping like flies, and she had a better view of it than others, fighting in the sky. She didn’t see where Jeb had gone though, the telekinetic Myst user had disappeared somewhere in the middle of the fight, just after everything went to hell.

  I’ll kill Ron myself If I see him again.

  Despite having a Body above thirty, gradually fatigue had set in, and she’d gotten winged by an attack.

  That slowed her down, allowing another attack to hit, and another, and another, sending her into a death spiral there was no recovering from.

  The very last thing she recalled, she was being tossed around like a hacky-sack between the monsters, her vision shrinking into a narrow tunnel as she lost consciousness. Then…a sudden jerking sensation in her stomach, like she was on a roller-coaster going up and then sideways at terrific speeds.

  Which brought her here.

  Jessica scanned the environment with her good eye.

  Even without the people, she recognized it easily: This was the Safe Zone, where they’d started the ill-fated attempt on the World Tortoise.

  There was a fire going, and sitting around it were Eddie and his seven bootlicks. None of them seemed particularly wounded.

  Jesssica scanned the Safe Zone, but she didn’t see anyone else.

  The pregnant girl should be here, shouldn’t she? Jess thought, frowning. The ready-to-pop teenager was nowhere to be seen. Jess tried to lean forward, when pressure on her wrists and neck brought her up short.

  What the?

  Jessica glanced up at her wrists, which were bound with thick rope to the large tree at the center of the clearing.

  Around her neck, she could feel the chill of steel.

  Her good eye narrowed.

  Someone’s about to die.

  “Oh, you’re up?” Called a voice from the fire, and all conversation stopped. The eight men stood up and sauntered over to her, not even bothering to hide their leering.

  “Good morning princess,” Eddie said, bowing to her with a flourish. “You seemed like you were in a bad spot there when we arrived, so we did you a favor and patched you up.”

  Jessica didn’t say anything.

  “I saved you, but I couldn’t help but notice you spent a lot of time hanging around that cripple, so we put the slave collar Ryan found on you, just so you didn’t cause a ruckus.”

  Eddie chuckled, putting his thumbs in his belt loops.

  “Don’t try anything, That fashion accessory there makes it impossible to use any abilities whatsoever, unless your owner says otherwise, and whoever supplies it Myst is your owner. Kinda makes me wish I’d put a few points into it myself. I’ll have to put that on my to-do list. It’s irritating letting Ryan hold your leash.”

  Jessica didn’t say anything.

  “Anyway, just cuz you’re pretty doesn’t mean we’re gonna take it easy on you.” Eddie said, squatting down in front of her.

  “You’ve got the Body for some real wet work, if you get my drift,” he said, setting a hand on her leg, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up.

  Jessica didn’t say anything.

  Like a petulant bully who wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted, Eddie pouted.

  “Hey, say something.”

  Jessica didn’t say anything.

  “Say something!” Eddie roared inches away from her, striking her across the face, filling her mouth with the taste of blood.

  Jessica didn’t say anything, simply meeting his gaze.

  “Goddamnit,” Eddie said, walking over to one of the men, a guy whose armor and weapons were lower quality and more patchwork than the rest of them.

  He grabbed the guy roughly by the collar, dragged him over and practically shoved him at Jessica like a tool.

  “Make her say something.”

  So that’s Ryan.

  “Say something.” The man said, and Jessica felt the absolute need in that moment, to say something, like an itch that would only grow in strength until it washed away all of her reason.

  Well, If I have to say something… Jessica angled her finger.

  “Pip seven.”

  Ryan’s brows furrowed an instant before a hole opened up in between them.

  ***Jebediah Trapper***

  Ding!

  You have gained a level!

  You are now level 34!

  Jeb snorted awake, and immediately regretted it. His head pounded like a marching band, and his body felt like a used condom, stretched out, used up and deflated.

  He patted his chest and came away with something sticky on his hand.

  Also covered in mysterious fluids.

  “Ugh, Jeb groaned, blinking his eyes open. Everything was dark and something was weighing down on him. I didn’t go blind, did I? That would really fucking seal the deal right there.

  After a moment of looking around with his eyes, he spotted a glimmer of light to his left.

  But first, I gotta get…whatever this is, off of me. Jeb levered the object off of himself, the glimmering light redoubling as he did so.

  Finally he spilled out into the open, gratefully gasping in fresh air as his eyes adjusted to starlight.

  It was a massacre.

  For every human dead, there were dozens of monster corpses, but there were thousands of monster corpses, stretching out in every direction. Dotted here and there was a familiar face, frozen in the expression of their death.

  Behind him, he spotted the corpse of the massive bear-like creature that must have collapsed on him while he was unconscious. He’d been buried under its paw.

  Jeb tried to stand, toppling to the ground when his splintered peg leg collapsed out from under him.

  “Mother –“ Jeb choked off the rest of the curse. He had no idea if there were more monsters nearby. He crawled back to the giant behemoth he had been partially buried under and began fishing around underneath it.

  Score! Jeb thought, snagging the Vivic
ant Cane and yanking it out, leaning on it as a spare leg as he pushed himself up.

  Vivicant Cane, Consumable item.

  Carried as a supplementary item by the vaunted healers of Mestikos, These Canes allow the master healers to handle emergencies when circumstances would otherwise prevent them from being able to help, maintaining their vaunted success rate even in the most adverse conditions, along with their priceless prestige.

  Channel Myst through this valuable cane to heal wounds and remove fatigue in an area of effect.

  Effect is proportional Myst spent.

  1/4 Uses remaining.

  Three uses!? Jeb thought, inspecting the cane. He’d put Mystic Triggers on it to go off if he sustained major organ damage –I.E. getting stabbed in the liver – extreme blood loss, heart failure, and brain damage.

  I know major organ damage triggered, and probably the blood loss triggered as well, so what was number three?

  Curiously, Jeb reached his hand up to his scalp and found it absolutely caked with drying blood.

  Did something crush my skull while I was unconscious? Jeb thought, a shiver going down his spine. The thought that his brain had been scrambled and rearranged was…eerie.

  Maybe the magic cured my PTSD while it was in there.

  Jeb was an optimist, he always liked to view his skull as half-full.

  Is there anyone alive? He thought to himself, scanning the massacre. Some of the tougher people like Freeman might have escaped to the…

  Safe Zone! Jeb thought, turning toward the distant camp. All his Ejector seats were designed to drop their payloads off at the Safe Zone, and that was exactly where Eddie and his goons were going last he saw them.

  I need to get there before they kill Ron!

  If he had a read on Eddie – and It wasn’t hard – the man wouldn’t allow anyone in his little kingdom that might challenge him for top dog.

  That included Jeb, Ron, Brett, Jessica…

  Almost all of them, except maybe Amanda. She might have higher stats than her level, but she’s not a fighter. She probably ranked somewhere just underneath Eddie.

  Jeb wrapped himself in telekinetic force, and shot into the sky, angling toward the Safe Zone, forest sliding by underneath him.