Chapter 198
Chapter 198
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 198
Chapter Title: 90. Fox Game (2)
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Who Fox Game was before the war doesn't really matter.
The war changed everything anyway, so digging into the past from an era that will never return isn't particularly productive.
Not just Fox Game, but all my forum friends—I judged them solely by how they appeared on the board.
To us, Fox Game was a grateful soul.
He'd used his talents to ease the boredom of our endless life sentence called apocalypse, gifting us all sorts of fun distractions.
I believe our lives were richer thanks to people like him.
Of course, I'd happily played some of the illegal converted games he distributed online.
I don't remember the title, but it was a territory game where you'd flick marbles to claim areas, revealing hidden images of healthy women.
Fox Game had a good reputation, matched by a gentlemanly personality.
That was the rough image I had of him until now.
After Viva Bot's proposal, I searched for info on the guy.
I wasn't interested in his past, but since I'd taken the search request, I needed to know what kind of person he was and his tendencies.
Curiously, Fox Game was mentioned more on PaleNet than our own board—and there was a reason.
He was fairly well-known in the gaming industry.
His identity came out during the Monster Park crisis when he was mentally cornered and spilled old industry tales.
Regulars like me wouldn't know, but industry folks spotted the clues.
I have no way to know if they're actually industry insiders.
Could just be common jealousy or gripes.
PaleNet folks living in constant anxiety often trash our board users out of inferiority—happens daily.
Still, it seemed true Fox Game was a big name at a major company.
And that he gets negative reviews from industry peeps.
According to Viva Bot, there's a very high chance he's alive.
He hasn't posted, but his satellite network usage is way too high for a dead man.
Viva Bot picked me because she knows who I am.
Not many can roam freely in a world crawling with raiders, monsters, and mutations.
Fox Game's worth leaving the bunker for.
I'd long wanted to help him for real.
The icon's tempting, but that's not the only reason.
Who Fox Game really is isn't that important to me.
At least this Park Gyu likes Fox Game.
Viva Bot's confirmed address for Fox Game was near Yeoju City.
Specifically around King Sejong's Tomb—she even sent high-res satellite photos.
The hideout in the pics was a typical rural abandoned house.
A few dotted around my bunker too.
Real eyesores.
Owners exist but won't live there or sell, making rundown countryside uglier.
Back when baseless optimism said no war, "haunted house YouTubers" would barge in, causing noise, light pollution, and dumping trash.
But Fox Game's isn't your average ruin.
Pre-war boards often discussed bunkers under fake abandoned houses in rural haunted spots as camouflage.
If there's a bunker, it's deep underground below that wreck.
Yeoju was gov-designated ag production zone—farmed heavily post-war but abandoned when gov moved to Incheon.
Unmanned fields quickly overrun by weeds.
Weed height matches leftover fertilizer; Yeoju ditched mid-season, so grass taller than me formed a jungle.
No people in the vast blue mountains and checkered weed grids—serene openness with its own charm, but don't get lost in it.
Mutations lurking in tall grass are deadlier assassins than monsters.
Click—
I pulled out a domestic shotgun from Kim Daram's spoils.
Too heavy for standard issue, but solid firepower, decent reliability, and shotgun punch make it reassuring over rifles in jungle terrain.
Creeping along the path to Fox Game's ruin, beyond the weed jungle—something prowled an embankment jutting like a green wall.
A chicken.
Monstrously huge one.
Korea's most farmed animal means chicken mutations inevitable, yet surprisingly rare.
Theories abound, but top one: natural selection.
They gained size, strength, smarts—but unlike dog or cat mutations, not built for hunting.
Pre-mut diet: bugs. No reports of insect or low critter mutations.
No centipede or spider mutations in my 3 years 6 months post-war.
Food scarcity killed most—even if many mutated initially.
The embankment hen clucked and pecked, then snapped her head toward me.
Birds' vision at least sharper than dogs'.
She spotted me.
But like a chicken eyeing a cow, she clucked, pecked, and waddled off.
Over 800m, no aggression—ignore.
Legion broadcasts say they flock; no need to stir trouble.
Keep mutations in mind, resume search.
The house from memory appeared.
Small villa, recent build for retirees.
Structure sound, but all windows shattered, yard littered with unidentifiable trash.
Among it, a skeleton—with a rusty tricycle tipped beside it. Striking.
Family with a kid?
Fox Game's ruin around the corner.
Mirrored blind spots before turning in.
Searching bunkers? Always assume hostile raiders hold it.
No threats, no shadows.
Fox Game's place was a clear pre-war wreck: cobwebs, trash, blackened crumbling beams, broken plank floors, twisted gaps peering through walls.
Textbook haunted house.
Not fun poking around—plus booby traps possible now.
20 minutes of search.
Nothing.
No entrance.
No bunker vents or extras.
Tricky spot.
Viva Bot swore Fox Game was here.
Can't query from afar; might head home seeing only that chicken I couldn't bag.
"......"
Slow scan around.
Ally intel isn't flawless.
Sometimes wrong or misleading.
But quitting easy? No.
Other leaders request pullout on bad info without hesitation.
Not me—I exhaust every angle first.
Even confirmed bad calls; info has reasoning—revisiting often yields unintended wins.
Sat signal from the ruin? True.
Finding the Obelisk device? Tough.
Melon Mask's powerhouse works deep underground fine.
Skip it; check universal bunker tells: vents, sewers raiders crave.
Few like me build septics.
Most pipe wastewater to nearby streams.
Traced stream for outflow pipes.
In a way, this Park Gyu hunting Fox Game was no better than a raider scouting bunkers.
Finally, one pipe—ag irrigation.
No sewer outflows anywhere nearby.
"......"
Arms crossed, pondered.
Viva Bot wrong?
Odds high, but one more sweep.
Focus: basics. Human traces.
Anyone living marks territory somehow.
Daily patrols wipe traces possible, but lax in safe times like now.
Peaceful vibes mean even diligent Fox Game skimped cleanup.
Patient circuit from ruin outward.
Footprints, snapped twigs, trash, food scents.
Anything.
Large animals like humans always scar nature.
Ear to ground for generator hum.
30 minutes in—paydirt.
Footsteps.
Muffled breath, tracked them.
I ghosted; they did too.
Reassess: spotted, now hunted.
Shotgun to burst fire, finger on trigger.
Half-jungle grass sea.
Baited into tall stuff, gauging their spot.
Steps frantic.
Silent through stinging weeds, flanked out, gun up.
"Hands up."
Young man and woman.
Man with old carbine, woman crossbow dubbed "judge killer."
"Shotgun. No funny business."
Bang!
Warning shot boomed.
They exchanged looks at the thunder.
Woman eyed fight; man shook head.
Weapons dropped, hands raised.
"Turn slowly."
They faced me.
Fox Game: mid-40s dev, per PaleNet, pocketed billions in key role.
No 20-something—especially 3.5 years post-war.
Could march 'em to bunker, but tossed casual question first.
"Fox Game. Where is he?"
They glanced at each other.
Woman's eyes widened.
"Director. You know him?"
Eyes asked: relation?
Both chimed:
"Choi Eosa's crew."
"What're you doing here?"
They synced again:
"Developing games together."
Then I saw it.
Matching rings on their fingers.
Nearby, a child whimpered.
A gaunt mid-aged man, half his hair snow-white, emerged with the kid.
New face.
But I knew him.
"Fox Game?"
Lowered muzzle, asked.
The man stared blankly, then quavered:
"......D, D.S. Raider?!"
I cocked my head.
A sense of mission hit.
Today, I'd etch the true Skeleton image into this guy's mind.