Chapter 134
Chapter 134
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 134
Chapter Title: Message from Space (3)
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Melon Mask's space bunker, Plus Ultra, consisted of five main modules and one empty reserve module.
Its basic layout was as follows:
Residential - Water Supply - Control
(Passage) Space (Passage)
Power Gen - Reserve - Workshop
As you can see, it was shaped like a donut with an empty center and modules connected along the rim.
Melon Mask was currently in the residential module, and fortunately, he had system control over the other modules from there.
This system control included temperature regulation, ventilation, water supply, power distribution, shutter operation, and more.
However, the workshop module housing the escape rocket couldn't be controlled directly from the other modules. Either Melon Mask's master authentication key was needed, or approval had to be granted from the system terminals in all four other modules to access the workshop module's entrance terminal.
Since the rocket—the only way back to Earth—was in the workshop module, this was a safeguard against someone suddenly overcome with homesickness launching it without permission.
Aside from the residential and cultivation modules, each module contained one of Melon Mask's former colleagues, now zombies drifting through the zero-gravity space.
For the workshop module, the internals couldn't be checked from outside, but Melon Mask and Donald McGally had encountered zombies there while attempting to escape via rocket before retreating to the residential module, forcing them to abandon the plan.
Each module had its own small evacuation area and food storage to prepare for the destruction or loss of others.
The emergency rations and water in each were top-grade space food sufficient for over three months, with plenty of oxygen canisters for worst-case scenarios.
Securing even one module could dramatically extend Melon Mask's fragile lifespan.
Countless suggestions from thousands of users flooded in to secure this first module.
Tap tap.
I posted my suggestion too, but unfortunately, I was banned.
My top-tier idea got buried without seeing the light of day.
Anyway, there was one glaring issue.
Too many cooks.
Sure enough, Melon Mask noticed and made an announcement.
So they were humans after all.
No wonder the ban felt so personal.
Soon after, the central chat—accessible only to those selected by Melon Mask—began filling with suggestions that had passed the VIVA_BOTs' strict review.
Pretty solid ideas popping up.
Better than what I'd come up with, even.
Thinking it over, zero-gravity was uncharted territory for me.
Plus, us hunters were elite combatants who slew zombies, mutations, and monsters relying solely on our own strength and skill—the cream of humanity.
We could dance circles around zombies, like Cheon Youngjae did.
From a powerless civilian's view, our suggestions might not apply well.
My idea? Strap a rocket spraying oxygen to an axe and launch it at zombies. My mentor Jang Gi-young's rocket axe, space edition.
Exciting stuff.
Watching a global celeb express gratitude, agonize, and fight for survival right before our eyes.
While he worked, I pulled out a Femicon Gaeul had made, poured hot water from the heater over it to make a gruel, and spooned some into my mouth.
Tasteless, but it hit the spot nutritionally.
I ate moderately, then ground Dragon Coffee beans when the communicator buzzed.
Not Defender's—Rebecca's.
"SKELTON!"
"Yeah. What's up?"
"You watching Viva! Apocalypse! right now?!"
"Yep."
"Why aren't you posting suggestions, SKELTON?"
"Me?"
"You're super strong! You solo monsters, and when I told U.S. hunters that, they all said I was full of crap!"
"Eh, just luck."
"Not luck! You're really that strong!"
Sudden noise, then the voice changed.
"SKELTON!"
Su's voice.
Even the usually calm, cynical Su was hyped like a kid over Melon Mask's space show.
"Post something quick! You can land one killer idea! Help Melon Mask! Who knows? He might owe you his life!"
"Ah..."
I wanted to.
But banned? How?
Couldn't tell Su that.
"Protagonists show up last, right?"
"Like the hidden power type?"
"Yeah, exactly!"
"OK! SKELTON! Can't wait!"
Comm cut. I stared blankly into space.
Plenty of time later.
These ideas beat mine anyway.
Recognizing, accepting, and absorbing others' superior input over clinging to your own—that was one of the few solid lessons from Jang Gi-young.
Sure enough, the central chat brimmed with diverse knowledge from fields I didn't know, all pooling to aid Melon Mask.
So many propping up Melon Mask.
But he wasn't just propped up—he broadcast his raw will to live from space, light-years away, showing us in real-time how fierce and desperate survival is.
In turn, his struggle became our pillar of hope.
Ultimately, Melon Mask adopted Defender's net-as-bola plan.
Details: Spread the net wide, open shutter, hurl at drifting zombie. Once snagged, its flailing wraps it tight, immobilizing it.
Send drone with line attached; clamp and tow to shutter, drop like a guillotine to crush.
Killing one zombie nets Melon Mask at least three months of survival and health.
Recover from malnutrition, and he might reclaim more of Plus Ultra aggressively.
Rustle rustle.
In front of everyone, Melon Mask crafted his hunting tools.
He constantly polled us, and experts gave spot-on advice.
Net for binding zombies and drone with astronaut lifeline cable ready.
Before thousands—no, millions worldwide—Melon Mask demoed the net toss.
Melon Mask's throws improved.
Our anticipation swelled.
I wasn't there, but cheering him on stirred excitement and hope I hadn't felt in years.
Viva! Apocalypse! Worth every penny.
Before battle, Melon Mask shared internal CCTV from all modules across the live feed.
Six screens appeared.
Residential, power gen, water supply, cultivation, reserve interiors, and workshop entrance.
Workshop internals invisible by design.
But the entrance cam showed a round, opaque porthole. Something moved inside vaguely. Currently, nothing visible.
Other modules had occupants.
Four zombies drifting.
And the problem mutation sloth, "Bumpee."
Bumpee hung motionless from the automated crop facility's ceiling frame, claws dug in.
"...Hmm."
Big.
Really big.
Over 3 meters easy.
And those razor-curved claws.
Even a sloth that size with those? Humans shatter on impact.
Literally torn apart?
One zombie was—torso only, flailing. The female in the empty reserve module.
Others? Dim lighting hid details, but corpses seemed intact. Limbs fine, at least.
"Here we go!"
Melon Mask suited up for his greatest adventure.
Shutter opened, revealing water supply room: full transparent tanks bubbling fiercely.
Zombie leaked out, drifting blankly with spherical water droplets like on Earth.
It hadn't spotted Melon, but I felt an odd unease staring at it.
"...Hmm."
Melon hurled the net.
First try: sloppy.
Net didn't spread right, unlike practice.
Melon yanked it back, retossed.
No need for force.
Zero-G meant weak throws didn't drop.
Net sailed slow-mo, ensnaring the zombie.
Perfect hit.
But zombie didn't twitch.
Melon Mask boldly exited the shutter, yelling.
"James! James! Confession time! I slept with your wife!"
Zombie turned, baring teeth.
Reaction.
It thrashed wildly toward Melon.
Adultery rage or zombie instinct? Even this prof couldn't say.
Key: zombie was perfectly trussed prey, as Defender predicted.
Melon Mask tossed the drone.
Net-like precision.
Drone bumped the flailing zombie; Melon remote-hooked the net, towed toward shutter. Zombie floated helplessly—dreamlike.
Zombie reached shutter edge.
Melon, sadly: "James. You're fired."
Shutter slammed.
Crunch!
The heavy shutter that once severed Melon's leg now pulped the zombie's head like a potato.
The tense chat exploded in a message frenzy.
I wanted to join, but couldn't.
Maybe that's why.
Unlike the hype, I checked the zombie corpse under the reopening shutter calmly.
Slight unease at first sight.
Source dawning.
When Melon retrieved the net from the headless zombie, I nailed it.
Zombie body pristine—minus the tofu-brain.
Impossible for that savage mutation.
Clean kill.
Human work.
Unless the mutation had a fetish for "just right" violence.
Reached for Defender to report when—
"?"
Something weird on the live feed.
Workshop entrance CCTV.
Empty opaque porthole now hosted a dark shape, solidifying.
Through the haze: a living human face.