Chapter 151
Chapter 151
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 151
Chapter Title: 74. Tyrant (3)
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Failnet operator exclusive chat room.
Combat prep was complete.
Valentine had prepared 300 accounts for the board keeper election.
All that was left was to wait for the voting to open and concentrate those 300 votes on SKELTON.
Nothing to it.
It might be a bit of a hassle, but just wearing that armband would do wonders for my mental state.
Especially since, come spring, Rebecca and her daughter, along with Defender and his sister, would leave my side.
I wouldn't deny anymore that their absence would damage my mental HP.
This armband was my way of bracing for that inevitable loss.
In other words, it was an item to boost my HP—my hit points.
With the armband, I figured I'd have some leeway to handle the coming farewell.
That was the real reason this skeleton was risking it all for the armband.
The live stream was about to start.
Voting wouldn't begin until after the stream anyway, and in this content-starved apocalypse, watching lives wasn't optional—it was mandatory.
I rummaged through Dragon-ssi’s coffee beans and preserved rations, grabbed some mysterious skeleton snacks coated in honey, set them on my computer desk, and finished my viewing setup.
The host of Live! Apocalypse was, as always, Melon Mask from space.
He usually just typed in chat, but today he was doing a special opening show with Bumpy, appearing on-screen in real-time footage.
"Hello! I'm Melon Mask, the first friend of mutations!"
His face looked a bit fuller than before.
Beside him floated his buddy Bumpy, munching on romaine lettuce in mid-air.
"I hear the Korean board is implementing a special system today: a board keeper, their own unpaid manager."
"Unpaid managers? Unthinkable in America. But tons of Korean board users applied for the live stream to compete for it. It's Korea Day! Enjoy the show!"
Melon Mask waved with Bumpy, and the screen switched.
First up was DSirae.
The board had him blocked, but given how crap the board's blocking was—John_nenon could punch right through—it didn't stop everything.
Lives were the prime example.
Even blocked users' chats showed up in the live chat window.
Anyway, I didn't like the guy, but he was on my mind.
He was ruthless enough to discard people like poker chips without hesitation, but his survival skills were no joke—proven by his track record.
Sometimes it wasn't bad to watch what his fancy "group survivalism" could do firsthand.
Slurp.
I sipped my coffee while watching DSirae's show.
As the live started, the screen flashed white, like someone had dumped paint on the camera.
Panting breaths and footsteps crunching in snow filled the audio.
Not just one person.
A group.
A pack matching DSirae's group survivalist vibe asserted their presence subtly but surely from off-screen.
The screen cleared, revealing a man in snow goggles and bundled head to toe in winter gear.
DSirae, huh.
"Hey, friends of the world."
His voice was raspy from the cold, but that calm, measured tone was unmistakably DSirae.
"Today we're hunting... Well, actually, this is pre-recorded. Hunts take us out of broadcast range."
"But we edited out the boring parts, so it should be easy viewing."
As he spoke, panting breaths, footsteps, and dragging sounds—like something heavy—came from behind the screen.
DSirae switched the view.
A 105mm field gun appeared.
Military surplus.
Men, bundled like DSirae with ropes tied to their bodies, were hauling it like draft reindeer.
What were they planning with that old artillery in mid-winter?
The reason became clear soon enough.
The camera panned to a vast white plain and mountainside, where a massive beast roamed the snowfield, intimidating even from afar.
A mutated wild boar.
Monstrous size.
Truck-sized, easy.
I'd seen mutated boar pics on Failnet here and there, but nothing this big.
Probably a particularly oversized variant among mutations.
"This one's Jopalgye, one of the Three Divine Beasts. It rammed a moving bus sideways, flipped it, and devoured the passengers greedily."
Yeah, that bulk could total a bus.
But factoring in boar intelligence, this monster had to be way stronger than it looked.
Honestly, rifle rounds probably wouldn't faze something that size.
You'd need hunter gear or an RPG-grade anti-tank rocket to stand a chance.
But the boar on-screen looked off—staggering, off-balance.
Like prolonged starvation and cold had dulled its senses.
Maybe that's why.
Why DSirae decided to hunt it.
"Even that beast is helpless in this cold."
DSirae addressed the camera—us.
"But hunting it solo would still be tough, right?"
I checked the chat.
Mostly agreement.
Same here.
No need to kill it if it wasn't gunning for me.
And the ammo cost wouldn't be cheap.
DSirae turned the camera to the gun.
"But together, we can take it down."
I could guess his plan.
Snipe it with the field gun.
Probably dragged it with manpower to draw less aggro.
A guy who looked like artillery corps adjusted the barrel and loaded a shell.
"Direct fire ready."
He gave a thumbs-up, and DSirae chopped his hand down sharply.
BOOM!
The gun roared, and the shell nailed the barely-moving giant boar dead-on.
One shot: its flank tore open, and it collapsed with a pitiful squeal.
Cheers erupted briefly, then the screen cut.
Cozy indoors—probably the hunters—sitting around grilling meat. That wrapped DSirae's video.
"This is how our group survives. Together, we seize more opportunities. Support me in the board keeper election!"
Global users flooded chat with reactions.
Mostly praise, but lukewarm.
"...Hmm."
Too predictable, maybe.
The field gun was a cool item, but after that? Standard hunt footage.
No thrill, no emotion.
Just mercy-killing a dying beast.
The guys grilling pork belly at the end felt like a rerun of some extreme jobs show from childhood.
SKELTON score: 2/10.
Next: berkut_break, leader of the pretentious snobs.
Always yapping "discourse" in board corners, spouting philosophy like showoffs. They played in a different league, so I treated them as invisible.
Wonder what this bore prepped.
The live opened on a cramped bunker—eye-rollingly narrow.
Trying to look intellectual, he'd shoved a bookshelf behind, crammed with books.
Mostly English and German originals—titles unknown, but heavy-looking.
No speaker on-screen.
Just a voice.
"Hey. Berkut Break here. Today, I'll break down Marcuse's authority and family simply, hitting just the key points for everyone."
Thin, phlegmy, high-pitched—dripping sleaze and ugliness. Probably hid his face after learning from the mirror.
But sharper eyes than mine exist.
Unicorn18 spotted it.
Sure enough, a mismatched row in the corner.
A presumed Japanese user replied.
The Japanese user's exposé cut short.
Berkut abruptly ended the stream.
Melon Mask popped up, pouting and shaking his head.
No words. On to the next.
Screen showed a gray-white ruined city.
Dongtanmom.
Visuals alone put her leagues ahead of other livers.
Living in an already-apocalypsed world gave her a massive edge over rivals in our impending future.
But even Dongtanmom wasn't invincible.
She'd done this concept twice before.
First-person crane swing to evade zombies, loot food, escape smoothly—the Dongtanmom Show gripped you, but people hate reruns.
"...Hmm."
Well, same style again, maybe.
What else could she do in a town with just that one ship?
Surviving was a miracle; turning it into content was her thing.
No high hopes. Eyes to the screen.
As always, silent Dongtanmom walked the massive ship.
The Hope.
Cable-swing food run again?
Suddenly, a sketchbook filled the screen.
Dongtanmom zoomed on Shanghai's despair-choked streets.
A pale, smooth woman's hand flipped the page.
Camera to the deck.
Rust-red iron plates in gloomy shapes.
Silence dragged on.
But Dongtanmom lifted her head.
Sketchbook:
A soft melody started.
Monotone tune with drum beats.
Drums soft, but matching our heartbeats.
Dongtanmom's wife flipped the page amid the music.
"Hm?"
Piece of hope?
What?
Melody building, Dongtanmom entered the ship.
Dark corridor: exhausted, hungry people.
But as she passed, they offered fists in silent support.
She headed to the engine room, the ship's heart, with its massive engine.
Of course, dead.
Dongtanmom approached.
Insulated leather gloves gripped it.
She tapped—no dice.
Melody peaked then faltered tenuously.
White breath appeared, vanished.
Back to sketchbook.
Melody swelled from lull to pulsing rhythm. Screen changed.
Engine room now full of people—the corridor folk—from shadows, tools in hand, banging away.
Music crescendoing, Dongtanmom at center held an unfamiliar part.
At climax, she slotted it into the open hatch, yanked the lever.
Thud—
The ship's heart beat once.
Screen to a innocent baby in a mother's arms; music hit peak and cut.
Fade to black.
"......"
That was Dongtanmom's live.
Baek Seung-hyeon-level stuff.
No, probably not.
His wife's talent.
That young wife had the skills.
Or maybe a survivor from a broadcast station PD.
Anyway, my face heated up for the first time in ages.
Good stuff.
Like force-feeding forgotten flavors: hope and anticipation.
But why?
I couldn't purely enjoy this gem.
"...Ha."
This wasn't it.
I shook my head. No good.
Dongtanmom pulls out another masterpiece on this crucial day...
Might lose this election.
Author's building this up so much—what's SKELTON gonna do for his live? So curious lololol.
Hope it's not beatbox lololol. Rec: 85
Dongtanmom films a whole movie for the armband, so what'd SKELTON prep besides 300 sock puppets?
Beatbox again and you're perma-banned!! Rec: 72
Others show survival strategies or hope, but SKELTON sock-puppeting for his own kicks—is he the tyrant?
Can't wait for more. Rec: 44
It's beatbox. Gotta be beatbox.
Must do beatbox.
UPLOAD THE BEATBOX!!! Rec: 29
Probably "befriend mutations" outing Friend 1 & 2 for promo...
Sorry if wrong lol. Rec: 14
Shivers at "piece of hope" ㄷㄷㄷ
Park Gyu's protag in Korea, but Dongtanmom's protag in China lol. Rec: 9