Chapter 136

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Translator: Ryuma

Chapter: 136

Chapter Title: Hiding a House in the Apocalypse

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I nodded.

"A hunter?"

VivaBot 014 snorted.

"Old School? Or Awakened? Ah, Awakened ones aren't much help here anyway, right?"

She must be Korean-American. Or maybe one of her parents is Korean.

At the very least, it was undeniable that this woman knew Korean internet culture inside and out.

She'd issued an instant ban just because someone said "waeng" instead of "why" when everyone else was screaming it.

"Old School."

Time was short.

I needed to recover my account quickly and relay my message to Melon.

"Rank?"

"S."

"S?"

VivaBot glared at me with a scoff.

"Did you just say S?"

"S."

"Look, I have the Old School hunter database for everywhere except China. If you're lying, I'll ban you for a month. That okay with you?"

"Callsign, Professor."

No reason to lie, so no reason to waver.

Even the arrogant VivaBot sensed something off in my confident demeanor. She frowned, glanced at her monitor, and hammered the keyboard.

Soon, it looked like she'd found something.

Her eyes widened as she alternated between me and the screen.

She stared at me, her voice trembling.

"W-Wait, your real name?"

"Park Gyu."

"Do you have the badge? You know, the one only given to S-Ranks."

"Ah, that."

I stood and rummaged through the cabinet.

Digging through the miscellaneous items wrapped in black bags inside my duffel, I pulled out a gleaming golden badge.

The so-called Golden Fleece.

A solid gold badge modeled after the skin of the golden ram Chrysomallos, which the Greek hero Jason retrieved in mythology.

It symbolized the S-Rank hunters—only twelve in the entire world at the time—and was once an icon coveted by every hunter.

I wasn't one for flashing it around, so except for official events, I'd hardly touched it. And after Old School hunters fell into decline, keeping it out felt like self-deprecation. I'd sealed it away deep in storage.

Who'd have thought I'd pull it out again, at a time like this.

Good thing I hadn't tossed it. I held the badge up to VivaBot.

"......Ah."

VivaBot's face drained of color.

"C-Can I see the back?"

I flipped it over and held the reverse to the camera.

The back featured a serial number and an engraved, encrypted QR code.

She couldn't verify the QR visually, but the serial number would be in her database.

She checked it and asked in an excited voice.

"The real Professor? The actual Professor? The one who first discovered the cause of mutations?!"

"That's right."

"No way... why would someone of your stature pull stunts like that...?"

"Are you on drugs or something?"

"......No."

Her question threw me, but fortunately, she recognized me as the real Professor.

"Oh my god, the Professor is alive! I'll put up a notice right now and connect you to Melon boss!"

Fame really does open doors in this world.

The VivaBot who'd been so hostile was now more eager to help than anyone.

But ironically, her kindness carried deadly risk.

"A notice?"

I asked urgently.

"Yes! 'SKELTON (A.K.A. Professor) has advice!'—something big like that."

"Don't."

"?"

Was she insane? Did she want me dead?

Woo Min-hee was probably watching this live too. After lying to her dozens of times about not using the internet, my cover would be blown.

"Sorry to ask, but could you keep it anonymous?"

"Why? May I ask the reason?"

"People are after me."

VivaBot nodded.

"Got it! I'll make it anonymous."

"Wait—one more thing!"

"What?"

"Leave SKELTON as is."

"Pardon?"

"I mean, just Professor out, keep SKELTON bolded."

A cold expression returned to the compliant VivaBot's face for the first time in a while.

"And why should I?"

"Well, SKELTON can be public, but linking it to Professor is... tricky..."

"Anonymous it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is."

With those icy words, the video chat closed.

An alert popped up simultaneously.

She had no eye for people, apparently.

Still, despite the injustice, I'd gotten what I wanted.

Too bad I couldn't reveal my name, but everything I'd done was to save Melon Mask, wasn't it?

Feeling the new privileges course through me, I tapped the keyboard.

My message appeared in the special chat window at the bottom center, reserved only for a select few.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Melon Mask pulled his hands from the keyboard.

"Of course."

His eyes welled with tears.

"I raised him myself. After his parents were hunted by poachers, he was dying in a shelter. I heard his story and took him in personally."

Hearing that sparked a small hope in me.

Tap tap tap.

That confirmed it.

Now the ball was in Melon's court.

Melon Mask eyed the camera suspiciously.

Before his doubt turned negative, I fired off another line.

Melon Mask rolled his eyes.

Before I finished typing, Melon Mask responded.

The method was to use Bumpi.

Trust Bumpi and get him to fight for Melon.

That was the only way I'd found for Melon to escape this mess.

But my approach clashed head-on with conventional wisdom.

Sure enough, a presumed hunter user chimed in.

Anonymous 68's opinion encapsulated the standard theory on mutations' nature.

I'd learned it in school, and I'd seen real-world scenes matching it countless times.

But I'd witnessed counterexamples—and experienced them myself.

Melon sent me a private message.

I hit "save" to archive this historic exchange, then replied.

He clearly didn't buy it.

No surprise. He'd grown up with the same stereotypes and common sense about mutations.

To convince him, I dug through my albums and found one photo.

It was a cherished shot of me with Gold in his final days.

Taken right in front of the doghouse I'd built for him, just as his body was nearly healed.

Gold had passed on, and I'd blurred my face in the photo to ghostly haze, but the bond we'd shared then lived vividly in my heart even now.

I attached the blurred photo of me and Gold to the message and sent it.

Indescribable emotions crossed Melon Mask's face in the camera feed.

He looked at us through the lens.

That's when the work module door slid open.

Beyond it, a spacesuit-clad man clutching wrenches in both hands burst out with raw emotion in every motion.

Thwack!

A wrench smashed into the zombie's head.

"Melon!!!!!!"

Donald McGalley.

The true nightmare of Plus Ultra glared at the CCTV and bellowed.

"I knew it! You dog! Always lying. Good thing I kept you alive! I figured you'd tamper with the rocket!"

Donald McGalley stormed past the module toward the living quarters.

The shutter was closed, but with his master key, it meant nothing.

Melon's options were dwindling.

Follow the users' impossible suggestions, or stake everything on his bond with Bumpi.

The latter, at least, promised a quicker, less painful end.

Melon Mask seemed to share my thinking.

He headed straight for the grow module, hesitating at the shutter.

His finger hovered over the button, but he couldn't press it, torn in conflict.

Countless Viva users watched with bated breath.

This was the moment our world's creator's fate would be sealed.

Soon the shutter opened, and Donald McGalley appeared, bloodied wrench in hand.

"Melon."

Donald smirked.

"Killed one zombie, huh. Thought you couldn't even crush a chick."

Melon glared coldly.

"Why now?"

"What?"

"Why betray me now? You could've done it from the start."

Donald sneered and pointed.

"Stupid human! Did I expect the world to end this easy? Hm? If it hadn't, I'd have taken you back to Earth!"

With that frigid mockery, Donald lunged ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at Melon.

As ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the constant-velocity Donald approached, Melon's trembling hand hit the shutter button.

The shutter parted, revealing the green-filled automated grow zone.

Melon slipped through the narrowing gap.

"Have you lost your mind?"

Donald flailed at the shutter, barely grabbing the edge to steady himself, then peered into the grow area.

What he saw then was probably less shock than sheer absurdity.

A massive sloth stared blankly at the human Melon right in front of it.

It extended a front paw with hideous claws.

Not to kill Melon.

To pet his head.

"Bumpi!"

Melon gazed at his pet with an indescribable expression.

Bumpi soon spotted Donald below.

Bumpi bared his teeth.

Donald scrambled to close the shutter, but the space sloth mocked the futile effort, hurtling through zero-G at unbelievable speed for its kind, swinging its monstrous forepaw at Donald.

Two things were certain.

Donald was dead, and sloths in space were faster than we could imagine.

Everything was over.

Control of Plus Ultra had fully returned to Melon Mask, and all threats against him were cleanly eliminated.

Today's mission to save our world's creator had succeeded.

Our world's creator gazed at us through the camera.

In the silent feed, his typing echoed.

He named a few standouts, but the real force that saved me today was everyone's support.

Melon Mask paused typing and smirked.

A thought struck him, and he filled the chat again.

Maybe so.

Melon beamed innocently at the ceiling.

He swiveled the camera to a window.

Through the portal to space, a blue planet spun in indescribable beauty, slow and ethereal.

Part of it had grayed to ash, but Earth still held the colors we knew.

"See you in a week, my friends."

The camera caught the space sloth tucked in a corner.

Our space sloth, Bumpi, hung placidly in the grow zone, munching a leaf as if nothing had happened, staring blankly at the lens.

Just an hour later, Viva! Apocalypse! posted their duo shot on the announcement.

Ridiculous as the photo was, I wasn't the only one who felt hope from it.

End of <69. Message from Space (5)>

Recommendations: 110

Taking in that sloth with no big appetites except eating was big-picture gaming from the start lol

Cat Mom → Gold → Bumpi hope chain, I'm in tears ㅜㅜ

Recommendations: 94

Thanks to time with Gold, we saved Melon.

Missing Gold extra today.

Recommendations: 88

Staff watching the Professor do low-tier beatboxing as a "live" and clowning around.

=

Our mood seeing the professor strip naked in the lecture hall and tapdance (...)

Recommendations: 56

Don't get false hope about wild mutations like the Four Evils, or Cat Mom raising 100 strays, Sea Monkey maniacs, etc. after this.

They eat bone shards too.

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