Chapter 93
Chapter 93
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 93
Chapter Title: 50. Great Tree (2)
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Human nature doesn't go anywhere.
Take Park Gyu here as an example.
No matter how high up he climbs or how far he travels to distant lands, Park Gyu is still Park Gyu.
The same goes for that guy, John_nenon.
He was a "attention whore" in the best sense of the word.
Sure, his methods were a bit underhanded and he tossed his conscience aside at times, but he wielded his influence in ways that benefited the greatest number of people, earning fame and fortune in return.
According to the now-vanished John_nenon antis, he used our community just to make money, but that's nonsense from people who know nothing about him.
From what I've seen online and in real life, John_nenon craved applause more than cash.
More precisely, he reveled in and yearned for the adulation of the masses.
When John_nenon created his masterpiece Failnet, he acted like a man who'd achieved everything.
Standing in the light with arms outstretched—that was the posture of someone who'd reached the end.
Yet he lived on for a few more months.
I once read in the papers that someone with a terminal diagnosis who outlives the prognosis feels more bewilderment—"Why haven't I died?"—than relief at surviving.
John_nenon, who seemed on the brink of death any day, must have felt that doubt too.
Why isn't he dying?
He probably thought it was dragging on disgustingly long.
But that extended survival likely left no room for other thoughts.
Like rediscovering the true self he'd lost long ago—the named hunter John_nenon he truly missed.
I might get treated like a weirdo or outcast on the boards, but back when I was active, they called me the upgraded Jang Gi-young.
Instead of piecing together half-baked, illogical strategies on a whim, I devised multiple innovative ones grounded in reality and data—leaning more toward innovation than conservatism—that extended the lifespans of us old-school hunters. That's what I pride myself on.
That's the Skeleton speaking.
No way it won't work.
And sure enough, my idol John_nenon moved exactly as I'd hoped.
While reality was a cesspool, the Failnet board—where we'd bickered endlessly about who was better—suddenly had a freak show up.
This user was worlds apart from the norm in every way.
First off, the size.
Regular users posted in about 10pt font, but this monster rocked a 100pt behemoth—ten times bigger.
And his nickname flashed like a neon rainbow, endlessly blinking.
Imagine it: a board full of uniform color and size text, then BAM—a user ten times larger, shimmering in colors no one had ever seen.
The impact?
One user—probably trembling—asked him:
Right after his laugh, every Failnet user got a message blanketing their entire screen.
The giant had arrived.
John_nenon's return threw Failnet into chaos, and even the Viva! Apocalypse! Korean board that birthed him.
Those with lingering bad memories of John_nenon couldn't accept his existence.
I get it.
Even I, his most loyal supporter, never imagined he'd created Failnet.
But that Failnet giant is definitely John_nenon.
He personally appeared on the Korean board to verify.
Few left comments on his return.
They knew: among the survivors left on this board, few were worthy of replying to the man who'd become light.
We'd driven him out.
Envied him, nitpicked his flaws, chased him from the board.
Even after he vanished, we never acknowledged his contributions, constantly devaluing him.
But there's always an exception.
John_nenon's last loyalist: this Skeleton.
I caught a glimpse of his smile.
And sure enough, he replied to me.
It was staged, and more had happened than others knew, but since the war began, was there a more touching reunion?
I don't think so.
But this world has too many bastards who need killing.
Forget m9; Dongtanmom has traits that stand out even if you hide the nick.
This revolting creep claimed he never used his phone for the net, but during the Failnet region code fiasco, he flaunted his "noble code" next to his name, nyam-nyamming to grate on everyone.
Maybe that nyam-nyamming psycho isn't Baek Seung-hyeon.
But to me, that nyam-nyammer is 100% Baek Seung-hyeon.
Or all the nyam-nyammers are psychos.
It's only natural my thinking aligns with my mentor John_nenon.
The moment Nyam-man vanished from Failnet forever.
That was the "god" of Failnet's first act.
Stunned by the sudden creator, users soon erupted in thunderous cheers.
People who couldn't compare to our board praised John_nenon in unison.
The wave of adulation was so massive it overloaded Failnet's high-spec servers, now underloaded from population drops with each incident.
Even our board's users—critical of John_nenon, probably out of inertia rather than thought—began changing their minds.
John_nenon must've seen this.
Maybe even shed tears.
After circling back, the giant our board created returned to our arms at the end.
This was the true aim of "Jeongga Skeleton."
The rightful return of a user worthy of respect.
Now he can close his eyes in peace.
I know from experience that the world doesn't flow as we wish.
Strategy and planning control that instability.
In that sense, my scheme had a few flaws.
First mistake: John_nenon's vitality.
He won't die.
John_nenon.
"No."
It's not dying itself that's the issue.
God-mode John_nenon was plastering his board with his name.
And every post broadcasts as a real-time message to all users.
God creating and destroying worlds is mere human fantasy—but here was John_nenon doing exactly that folly.
But that was just a minor hiccup.
The real problem was elsewhere.
John_nenon. Got a request.
Sorry to ask, but can you remove this code? Failnet got weird since it appeared.
Code deletion.
A plea to remove the government-mandated codes.
A tricky request.
Defying the government? Failnet's fate was obvious: defenseless, location exposed, now ripe for absorption.
But John_nenon was different.
He broadcast to all Failnet users:
Failnet's reaction was mixed.
A-code users rebelled against the creator's policy, but others cheered his resolve.
I knew the backstory behind those codes.
John_nenon's decision deserved praise—but it brought danger.
His remaining days could shatter.
So I messaged his subordinate:
Yes.
John_nenon's choice risked destroying the world he'd built.
It clashed head-on with my wish for him to pass in satisfaction.
A day passed.
Failnet users noticed the tormenting stigmas gone.
Codes vanished.
Ending Failnet's hierarchy culture—and the creator declaring war on the government.
I messaged the subordinate in worry, but no reply.
"......"
Thoughts swirled.
Soldiers already raided?
Or seized the gear by force?
What of bedridden John_nenon?
Suit-clad troops dragging him out, slamming him down?
Or Failnet itself gone.
My little ripple heading to absurd doom.
That day, I skipped food and sleep, waiting.
"......"
I hesitated briefly.
Message John_nenon directly?
When did this start?
Communicating via subordinate instead of him.
Probably began because he was terminal, thinking impossible—using the sub as proxy.
It solidified into indirect contact, building an invisible wall.
Maybe by design.
History proves getting too close to the worshipped leads to blasphemy.
But at potentially his last moment, I couldn't cling to stubborn pride.
So I broke taboo, fingers on keys.
Tap tap.
Direct to John_nenon.
Board user Skeleton no more—hunter Park Gyu.
Shockingly, instant reply.
That was the last message from my role model, John_nenon.
I sent more, but he never replied again.
Far in the future.
I got to hear about the region codes from Woo Min-hee.
"Oh, those codes?"
She burst out laughing, cackling for ages.
"Randomly assigned. Meaningless. But they stratified themselves. Typical hierarchy nation."
Even she didn't know John_nenon's end well.
Not just her.
His loyal sub 171cm—meticulous enough to update his nick for 1kg loss—replied thus:
He didn't know the end either.
Just a rumor vaguely sketching it.
Apparently, as hazmat-clad officials neared his basement, John_nenon bellowed:
"I'm a hunter."
As the bureaucrat approached the lead-lined door, he overloaded a prepared nuclear battery, turning his already high-rad space into a death zone.
Amid screaming Geiger counters, he opened the door, revealing his light-made world to the soldiers.
Brighter than the light, he smiled and said:
"I protect my world."
Reportedly clutching two axes in bony hands.
And now.
I look at Failnet.
The great tree John_nenon fell.
In its place, weeds, wild grasses, fungi, and mosses—each with their grudges—devour, push, reject, sometimes lean on one another,
and thrive.