Apocalypse: Generic System by Macronomicon (shoe dog free ebook TXT) 📕

solidifying some air into the exact shape of the mold he wanted and re-heating the steel, he was able to inject the white-hot liquid into the exact shape he wanted. None of this fumbling around.

He’d save that for when he wanted to try for something layered or otherwise unique.

In a matter of minutes, the little hollow cylinder cooled, eventually becoming cool enough to handle by hand.

“What, um…” Ron asked, frowning at the piece of steel. “What’s this supposed to be?”

“A better handle,” Jeb said, pulling the lenses and the regulator out and slotting them into the exact place they needed to be before latching the simple hinge back down over it and closing it with a tiny screw. Then he cut a slice of wood and used that to top the handle.

Over time the wood would char, acting as a…halfway decent buffer between the heat of the furnace and the incredibly heat-conductive handle.

That was the biggest downside of using a steel handle, but the upside was that the lenses were now safely ensconced in a quarter inch of solid steel. They weren’t gonna get broken without some serious effort behind it.

On the other hand…

He glanced over at Ron’s death knight.

There were people who could probably snap it like a twig.

Now that he was done with his project, Jeb was incredibly tired. Every fiber of his being wanted to drag him down into the nice soft dirt for a nap.

But first, they needed to get distance.

“You can sleep on the palanquin.” Ron said, as if reading Jeb’s mind. The necromancer was pointing over his shoulder at the planks carried by his undead.

Jeb blinked, his eyes gummy.

“I can go one more day,” He said, taking three deep breaths, dispelling the fatigue with a rapid intake of oxygen to boost his heart rate. Old tricks, coming in handy.

They moved.

Over the course of the day, they cut their way through the forest, heading west, away from the enormous tortoise that was literally spewing monsters into the environment, slowly turning its head their direction.

The tortoise was turning into the forest.

Hours could pass and you could barely tell it had shifted at all, but the colossal tortoise was shifting, putting one leg in front of the other. Entering the forest.

Looking for them.

Phase two sucks.

They were halfway across the forest, moving at the fastest pace they could with all the baggage. As with so many things, they were only as fast as their slowest member.

Max speed was such:

1.Jeb at about 120MPH through telekinetic flight.

2.Jessica, pulling 100MPH by dicking with her mass. She could go much faster in short bursts, but they were tiresome.

3.Amanda at a highway 55MPH

4.Brett at a respectable 50 MPH

5.Ron at an inhuman 35MPH

6.Ron’s zombies at about 25 MPH

They weren’t about to abandon their meat shields. Even if Jeb picked himself and Ron up and they abandoned the rotting fleshbags, they’d be forced to abandon all of their luggage, including the lion’s share of their food and both Ron and the Courvar’s trade goods.

Now, Jeb wasn’t big on material wealth. Never had been. But this was one of those months where the difference between dying and not dying might depend on putting that enchanted shield Amanda won lying down into the right person’s hands.

No, they needed more speed. They needed to raise the lowest person’s speed. Best way to do that was by taking people off the list.

Jeb glanced at Ron’s palanquin.

Idea!

Jeb’s carrying capacity was in the tons and growing. He could easily carry all the luggage plus himself simply by lifting a wide piece of wood or fabric.

Flying carpet type deal.

But is it worth it? Jeb thought. They were hiding from the torrent of monsters under the safety of the canopy. Carrying everything on a huge platform would only go significantly faster above the snarl of trees.

Jeb floated up and peeked out of the green leaves.

The sky was littered with patrolling monsters.

Nope, Jeb thought, dropping back down into the woods.

“Seriously, flying is such a cheat.” Ron said, shaking his head as he and the others relaxed on the palanquin.

“If you earn a telekinesis lens, I’ll make a flying belt for you, if you want. I think I could handle it.”

“Really!?”

“It might tear you in half, but still,” Jeb shrugged.

Ron narrowed his eyes. “I’m still in. Flying is the shit.” Ron’s dedication to ‘magic’ made Jeb crack the first smile of the day.

The two of them had totally different viewpoints on magic. Ron was dedicated to the ‘form’, what he thought was ‘cool’. He wanted to recreate spells directly out of D&D and Diablo. He was dedicated to making his Myst fit into that box.

Jeb…Jeb felt more like a mechanic with grease up to his elbows. He didn’t really care whether it was pretty, or what the magic’s name was. His only concern was with performance; what it did.

Which was probably why he got Telekinesis, and Ron got Necromancy.

Amanda was an idealist, so she healed.

Jessica… Jeb glanced over at Jess, who was sitting on the Palanquin, her eyes closed, feet crossed.

He didn’t know what Jess had, or how her personality would manifest when it interacted with Myst. Jess seemed cold and practical, wary of men in general, and slow to trust.

The question was, was that the Jess who pressed the Impossible button, or was this what the Tutorial had made of her?

He traced her rounded cheek with his gaze, noting the faint freckles.

Jess’s eyes popped open, catching Jeb staring at her.

Shit.

“I did it!” she exclaimed.

“Did it?”

“Check this out.”  She said, making a dramatic pose and tensing.

Nothing happened.

“Was something supposed to happen?” Brett asked.

“It’s too much Myst. Hold on…” She tried a few more things, her