MarzAttackz

A normal day is suddenly turned on its head when a single voice utters those fateful words into the minds of every single soul on the planet. 

[Assessment Complete. Activating Mutagen, Please Standby….]

It was after those words that every single man, woman and child was granted the opportunity to gain fantastical abilities in the name of evolution. 
Not even the plants or animals were spared by the words of this mysterious voice. Yet not everyone got what they hoped for. 

Some developed no powers at all, their bodies not yet ready for the process. Others, were simply too frail to handle it. Mutating into horrific creatures, nightmares made real.

Seth Quinn, a slightly below average IT worker, developed a unique ability. The Puppeteers Threads. The ability to turn inanimate objects into his obedient puppets.

Will he and those he loves survive in this hellish new world? Will his new ability lead him to a life of greatness he always dreamed of? 
Could he become a Master of Puppets?

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A book about an apocalyptic world and the powers that have risen within. Following the unique blend of necromantic and Summoning abilities, with a twist that offers many more opportunities.

Warnings for graphic descriptions of death and injury. There will be bloodshed. You have been warned.

Threads of the Soul

Astra had been thoroughly confused watching this entire ordeal going down. She had never pried too much into Seth's private life. Beyond learning the secret of his identity, she truly didn't know all that much about him.

Although, that couldn't really be blamed entirely on her. After all, when you are locked in an extra-dimensional, eternal prison of tranquillity and have to fight horde after horde of monsters for months on end, all while you are worrying about starving or dehydration, the topics of discussion become fairly limited.

No one is going to discuss their favourite colour when they are ripping apart monsters, unless that colour happened to be red, or what their relationship status was when you were desperately scrounging for even a drop of water.

Hell hath no wrath