Pain. Darkness. The taste of copper. Eyes shut, Zeke laid completely still on the sidewalk.
An alarm blared. The wind blew, wafting an acrid scent over him. Zeke twitched, and immediately regretted it. The tiny shift sent agony blasting through his body, washing over him in waves.
What… what…
Ryan, with an iced coffee. A casual chat. That familiar face, his blue eyes colder than the arctic. Mia’s horrified expression.
I fell. No… Ryan pushed me. I survived? How…?
Exerting herculean effort, he opened his eyes. His vision blurred. Zeke blinked blearily, barely able to make out the sidewalk in front of him. Crashed cars piled up in the road beyond. Smoke billowed in the near-distance. A woman in blue ran by, panicked.
Mia…? No…
As he focused on the woman, a screen appeared in front of his vision.
Please assign your points.
Warning! You are near death. You need to find something to eat or drink to raise your vitality.
Death estimated in: 2:06
You have one new skill. Would you like to examine it?
What… what…
Please assign your points.
“What points…?” Zeke muttered.
Level 0. Points: 5
STR: 0
CON: 0
DEX: 0
SPR: 0
What does SPR mean? he wondered, furrowing his brows faintly.
SPR stands for Spirit. The more Spirit you have, the more powerful your non-physical attacks will be. SPR also grants intelligence, especially to non-sentient apocalypses.
“Non-physical…?” It’s like I’m in a game. Am I dreaming? But… it hurts way too damn much for this to be a dream. These numbers… this is real life. But… what’s happening? How…?
He glanced upward. A black sky stretched overhead. Despite the darkness of the sky, the light remained bright as midday. That dome… we’re trapped in here. And only the strongest can survive.
His throat itched. He tried to suppress it, but a cough welled up in his chest anyways. His entire body bucked, every inch of him screaming in pain from the force of the cough. Blood sprayed over the filthy sidewalk.
Only the strongest can survive, and I’m lying here dying.
Putting points into CON will enhance your natural vitality and regeneration rate.
Zeke waved his hand. “Put five points into CON.” Anything to survive a little longer.
CON: 5
Regeneration rate +0.5%
Death estimated in: 2:05
“Fuck,” Zeke muttered, lips slippery with his own blood.
What was that worth? Five seconds? I wasted a few seconds talking to the System… so probably about five seconds for five points of CON. I’m fucked. He twitched a second time, testing his mobility. Again, his entire body lit up with pain.
Heaving slow breaths, Zeke laid still on the concrete, gathering himself. Okay. Focus. Someone should come to save me. There’s hospitals and shit in the city. There has to be a way to save me.
Glass shattered, raining down all around Zeke. Heavy thumps lifted him bodily off the ground. Zeke barely bit back a scream. What now?
A shadow fell over him. His eyes rolled upward.
Bone white. Creaking, dry joints. A skeletal t-rex stood over him, towering over the cars and the light posts lining the side of the road. Blood dripped from its jaw. Bits of cloth and gore stuck to teeth longer than Zeke’s forearm. It turned its head, nosing at the air as if it could sniff with dry bone nasal sockets, then stomped off. Its long tail whipped over Zeke’s head, so close he could feel the wind.
Zeke’s eyes widened. “What the fuck.”
That is also an apocalypse.
“An apocalypse? What, the dinosaur apocalypse?” Zeke muttered, watching it stomp away.
Correct.
Dinosaur Apocalypse (Skeleton)
Danger Rating: SSS
Level: 3
“Danger rating…?” Zeke asked.
Danger Rating is the chance that the sighted apocalypse could kill you as you currently are. SSS means certain death.
Well, obviously. I’m almost dead. Everything is an SSS rating right now.
Correct.
A soft cooing caught Zeke’s ear. With a flutter of feathers, a pigeon landed beside Zeke. It tilted its head, looking at him.
Zeke stared back. “I don’t have any food.”
As if in answer, Zeke’s stomach grumbled. I can still be hungry in a time like this? he marveled, amazed at himself.
The pigeon tilted its head. It bounced forward, stepping toward him. A strange light flashed in its dark, round eyes.
Zeke giggled. Even though he laid on the ground, his head floated, light as air. The pain faded from his limbs, falling into the background. A horrifying cold replaced it, a sensationless cold that he refused to think about. Instead, he nodded ever so slightly at the pigeon. “Don’t tell me. You’re the pigeon apocalypse.”
Member of the Pigeon Apocalypse
Individual Danger Rating: C
Level: 0
“There’s a pigeon apocalypse?” Zeke asked, shocked.
Anything that is a Concept can become an Apocalypse.
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
“And Concepts are…?”
Anything that exists in this world.
“So literally anything,” Zeke said.
Not quite.
The pigeon hopped closer. It loomed over him, its oil-slick neck ruff and green belly filling his vision. It cooed again, then drew its head back to peck.
I’m not going to be eaten by a pigeon! Mustering all his strength, Zeke forced his hand off the sidewalk. Clumsily, he swiped at the pigeon.
The pigeon leaped into the air. Feathers and air beat at Zeke’s face.
Zeke scowled. Dammit.
Undeterred, the pigeon settled back down a moment later. It landed beside his face and pecked at his cheek.
“Ow!” Zeke complained, baring his teeth in pain.
Conditions met for first activation. Activate skill?
“What? I mean—activate!”
[Devour]
His mouth opened on its own. Faster than he thought possible to move his ruined body, his head jerked forward. His teeth clenched around feathers.
Shocked, Zeke froze. I just—
The pigeon squawked in surprise and beat its wings, desperately trying to escape.
Zeke’s eyes widened. No!
He clenched his jaw shut. I don’t know what’s happening, but this might be my only way out of this. Whatever this apocalypse nonsense is about, I need to be stronger than I am. There’s numbers, danger ratings, levels… just like a game. And if this is like a game, then the only way to get stronger is to play.
Bones crunched. The pigeon stilled. Over and over, Zeke chewed, swallowing it bit by bit. Blood and feathers splattered the sidewalk. Hot, acrid liquid spilled down his throat. Feathers tickled his cheeks and tongue.
Level +.1
Your condition has stabilized by a small margin.
Choose Skill
Resilience (Minor)
Steel Stomach (Minor)
Wings (Tiny)
Claws (Tiny)
Zeke’s brow furrowed. “What are these?”
When you [Devour], you gain fewer levels, but in return, you gain the ability to pick one of your victim’s skills for your own.
Choose Skill
Resilience (Minor) (Passive)
Ignore your wounds and keep moving with the resilience of an herbivore.
Steel Stomach (Minor) (Passive)
Like a scavenger, you are less likely to get sick when you eat spoiled food.
Wings (Tiny) (Modification)
Gain wings (Tiny)
Claws (Tiny) (Modification)
Gain claws (Tiny)
Zeke blinked. After a second, his eyes settled on Resilience. Steel Stomach might be useful to pair with Devour in the future, if my pigeon-eating experience was any indication, but I need to focus on surviving the next two minutes, not preoccupy myself with potential skill synergies. As for Wings (Tiny) and Claws (Tiny)… I don’t need pigeon-sized wings or claws.
Gained Skill! [Resilience] (Minor)
Immediately, the pain faded. No. Not faded. Instead, he automatically put it to the back of his mind. It remained, the pain itself as strong as ever, but he could easily ignore it now.
Zeke twitched, then shifted. His right hand clenched, then moved. Pain burst through him again, but this time, he pushed through. Moving his left arm induced immediate agony that even [Resilience] (Minor) couldn’t overcome, so he left it be.
Inch by inch, he pulled himself up with his right arm, barely lifting his chest off the ground. His left arm dangled, and his left leg and hip twisted as he pushed up. Bone grated on bone. Blood gushed down.
He bit his lip, gasping against the pain. Shit! Ow! Ryan, what the hell?
What got into Ryan? Is he the Sudden Betrayal Apocalypse or something? But no, he attacked me before the whole System and Apocalypse arrived. Did he have an abrupt mental breakdown or something? He was acting weird…
Zeke’s eyes widened. And Mia! Mia. Is she alright?
He caught his breath. Slowly, he shook his head. Focus. I can worry about Mia once I’m not dying in two minutes.
Estimated time to death: 1:47
Zeke’s brows furrowed. Not that I’m complaining, but it’s definitely been more than twenty seconds since the last time I checked.
Using [Devour] raises your regeneration rate. [Resilience] is also factored into the estimate.
Resilience can also stave off death? Huh. So some skills have hidden features, Zeke noted. He nodded to himself. [Devour]. If I want to get through this, I have to [Devour]. Got it.
Luckily, I’m not a picky eater.
A cockroach skittered by. Zeke’s stomach rumbled, and his eyes flashed. Unhesitatingly, he threw himself at the cockroach. The cockroach darted away, but not fast enough. Zeke crunched it down, gooey innards spurting in his mouth.
[Devour]
Ordinary Cockroach
Danger Rating: F
Level: 0
Yum, delicious, Zeke thought sarcastically. Ignoring the sensation of little legs scratching against his tongue, he forced himself to swallow.
Antennae tickled at the back of his throat. The legs scratched all the way down his neck. Acrid, slightly salty-rotten flavor smeared through his whole mouth. He grimaced. I’m going to be tasting that for days.
Level +.01
Your condition has stabilized by a tiny margin.
Choose Skill
Resilience (Minor)
Steel Stomach (Minor)
Wings (Miniscule)
Carapace (Miniscule)
Quickly scanning the list, Zeke’s eyes rested on Resilience again. If I choose that, will it stack with my current Resilience (Minor)?
Yes.
Hmm. That or Steel Stomach… Now that I know I have to [Devour] to survive, it’s looking like a more profitable skill.
Zeke hesitated a moment, then chose Resilience. I can’t waste any skills on quality-of-life improvements yet. With a minute and some left to live, I need to focus on survival, to the detriment of everything else, if need be.
Resilience (Minor) +1
Ignore your wounds and keep moving with the resilience of an herbivore or small bug. Regeneration rate +.5%
Total regeneration rate +1%
Zeke glanced down. Nothing visibly changed, and yet, the pain faded away—or rather, I put it to the back of my mind. But… damn. Putting five points in CON gave me .5% faster regeneration, the same as +1-ing Resilience. Skills scale way faster than stat points!
He dragged himself over the sidewalk, slowly inching onward. Elbow down. Leg push. Arm drag. His broken bones scraped over the uneven sidewalk, left side dragging. He left a trail behind him, smearing blood as he went. Bits of blackened bubble gum stuck to the sidewalk. Discarded wrappers and receipts laid crushed to the ground. In the near distance, a pair of mangy jeans smushed into the side of a building. Zeke wrinkled his nose. Gross.
He lifted his head carefully, looking around. The street stood mostly empty. A single distant homeless man shifted in the mouth of an alley. Across the road, a businesswoman clopped by, purse held close and shoulders high, hurrying off down the road. She glanced at Zeke, but quickly looked away, leaving him behind.
“Oh, hey,” Zeke muttered. Alright, to be fair, I probably look like a zombie right now. And given the circumstances… I wouldn’t help me, either.
Speaking of, though, where did everyone go? Are they all hiding? How long was I out?
Ants crept over the ground, climbing out of a sidewalk crack and circling around a half-dried puddle of soda. Zeke eyed them. Can I [Devour] these?
Yes.
What can’t I devour?
No answer.
Zeke licked his lips. He lowered his mouth to the sidewalk. Better than nothing. Uh, [Devour]!
His jaws snapped shut. His lips scraped against the ground. A single ant crawled over his tongue.
Zeke pressed his lips together. One at a time? I’m going to be here all day!