The Head Mod Fanatics Club (1)

Someone had come looking for me.

This time, however, I was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠armed with a shotgun and a masterwork blade gifted by the dwarves.

Who am I? The proud owner of a twelve-gauge.

Swallowing my nerves, I crept toward the door and eased it open a crack.

"Ah, you are in. I am an investigator dispatched by the Kingdom of Kellierton."

"Oh."

A man sporting mountainous dark circles under his eyes stood on the other side, scribbling furiously on a parchment slate, crossing things out, and looking up at me. It was just a run-of-the-mill civil servant.

"What sort of investigation is this?" I asked.

"Following the founding of Kellierton, we are conducting a census of the capital's population. Were you by chance a citizen of the former Kingdom of Kelton?"

"No, not really..."

His exhaustion-riddled face remained entirely flat as he replied in a dry, bureaucratic drone. "In that case, please accompany me to have an identification card issued."

Though a new nation had been declared, countless people still lingered within the ruins of the old Kelton Kingdom's territory. Kellierton had taken to issuing them brand-new identification cards, officially registering them as subjects of the new realm. The investigator had simply been making his rounds house-to-house until my turn came up.

"Everything is in order. You are now officially a citizen of Kellierton."

"Um, thank you."

The whole affair was over in minutes. Befitting the chaotic state of the world, they showed zero curiosity regarding what I actually did for a living. There was no nightmarish raid on my underground warehouse, no horrifying discovery of my identity as the Head Moderator. They simply took down a name, stamped a seal, and handed over an engraved wooden plaque.

That actually worked?

I couldn't exactly throw out my Korean name, so I blurted out the first ridiculous alias that crossed my mind, never expecting them to rubber-stamp it without a second glance. Venturing above ground turned out to be far less perilous than I had feared.

Doesn't look like there are any demon beasts around either.

Compared to the grim nightmare when I first dropped into this world, the streetscape had undergone a radical transformation. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠While the avenues still wore the haggard scars of war and decay, at least there were no ravenous corpses stalking around thirsting for my flesh. I contemplated turning back toward the bunker, but decided to meander through the central plaza first. That was when my eyes caught sight of something utterly baffling.

A colossal statue, towering almost as high as a multi-story building.

"What on earth is that?"

The sculpture depicted a breathtaking young maiden clad in flowing, diaphanous mage robes. Despite being carved entirely from stone, her delicate, youthful features were rendered with astonishing craftsmanship. Below it sat an engraved brass plaque that proclaimed its identity without a shred of shame.

"...Me?"

Now that I listened closely, virtually every conversation floating through the plaza revolved around me. Citizens gathered in clusters, dissecting artistic merits and debating lore fidelity with fiery passion.

"Hm. Doesn't the design feel a bit off to you?"

"Preposterous! Are you implying this holy monument is flawed?"

"What I mean is, the Head Moderator is known to be a delicate half-elf maiden. Shouldn't the artisan have carved her ears far pointier?"

"Nonsense! The Head Mod is clearly the youngest daughter of some reclusive ducal bloodline! Human through and through!"

Every single word coming out of their mouths was dead wrong.

While one faction nearly came to blows over my biological race and gender, another group stood reverently by the fountain in front of the pedestal, tossing copper and silver coins into the shimmering water while clasping their hands in prayer.

"O Juddak, please stock canned pepper tuna in the next market batch..."

"Grant that I pass the knight's examinations, I beg of you..."

The atmosphere in the fledgling capital of Kellierton didn't just mirror the insanity of the forum—it actively surpassed it. I slumped onto a nearby stone bench and clutched my pounding temples.

"What kind of collective madness is this?"

Had the entire city lost its collective mind?

"What is a Head Moderator even supposed to be that they're praying, arguing, and making such a damn fuss over me?"

The outside world was serving up far more absurdity than my sanity could handle. I couldn't stay out here a second longer. I needed to scurry right back to my bunker, open up the gallery feeds, gaze upon some soothing beastfolk selfies, and nurse my fractured soul back to peace. Just as I started rising to my feet, a voice boomed behind me.

"What? What did you just say, punk?"

Someone passing by had caught my muttering and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Excuse me?"

"I asked if you just dared to spit out, 'What's the big deal about Juddak anyway?'"

I spun around to find a towering, half-naked brick wall of a man with veins bulging across every slab of muscle. He glared down at me as if I had personally murdered his ancestors, closing the distance in massive, thudding strides.

Grab!

"Take it back...! Those words... take them back right now...!!!"

"I take it back!"

A true tactician never fights a battle he isn't guaranteed to win. Without missing a beat, I whipped out ten Mana Dumplings, shoved them into his massive palm, and formally retracted the statement. The musclehead grunted in satisfaction, nodded curtly, and marched off.

"I had no idea it was this bad."

I knew the gallery was flooded daily with praise and shitposts ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠elevating the Head Moderator to sainthood, but experiencing the fanaticism in the flesh was a whole different level of terrifying. Yet the moment the brute disappeared, another figure drifted toward me—this one swathed in a ragged black cowl.

"Excuse me, brother. Might I share some blessed words with you?"

Everything about him screamed shady cult recruiter. An ominous chill radiated from his silhouette, contrasting sharply with the aggressively benign smile plastered across his face. He leaned in and whispered without skipping a beat:

"Do you believe in Juddak?"

Lady Evelyn Ophelia.

Now crowned Queen Evelyn, she had slipped beyond the castle gates for an informal royal inspection. She strolled along the thoroughfare holding a fresh tin of tuna in one hand and a spoon in the other.

"Your Majesty, look over there," pointed Lloyd, her sworn royal knight and bodyguard.

A dark-haired man was currently cornered against an alley wall, being aggressively evangelized by a sinister cloaked stranger.

"What a peculiar appearance... Is he an outlander?"

"Your Majesty."

"Ah, right. Sorry. You told me I need to speak casually now."

Evelyn awkwardly corrected her phrasing, her gaze lingering on the dark-haired youth. In all her life, she had rarely encountered anyone with hair so profoundly black. To possess eyes just as pitch-dark made him look extraordinarily striking. His unusual presence drew her gaze like a magnet.

The problem was the shady zealot clinging to him like a burr.

"Demon beasts aren't the only scourge left, are they..."

Even as the world teetered on the brink of ruin, monsters were far from the sole threat. Cutthroats, con artists, and apocalyptic cults exploited the ensuing chaos to prey on the vulnerable, rapidly becoming a cancer upon society. If they only watched the wilderness for beasts, Kellierton would collapse from within, just as Adrian had.

"Let's help him."

"At once, Your Majesty."

As the two drew nearer, their suspicions crystallized into certainty.

"It will only take a moment of your time! These words will bring salvation to your very soul, brother!"

"I'm not buying whatever you're selling, man."

"Place your faith in Juddak! Juddak bestows upon us our market, our nourishment, and our holy arms! Juddak alone is the true savior destined to deliver us from ruin!"

"I said no! Back off, will you?!"

One was visibly disgusted, trying desperately to pry himself loose; the other was a zealous tick grabbing him by the sleeves, refusing to let go.

"That is quite enough."

Lloyd stepped in, planting himself between them with commanding presence.

"What? Who the hell do you think you are, butting—"

Schwing!

"I believe you have said plenty."

The moment the knight's blade cleared its scabbard by two inches, the cultist bolted, vanishing down the alleyways like a startled roach. The dark-haired stranger slumped against the wall and let out a long, ragged exhale. Now that the monsters were clearing out, cheats and fanatics were crawling out from the woodwork. Is there some cosmic law of conservation for human garbage?

The stranger hesitated for a second before bowing to offer his thanks. "Thank you so much. If not for you, I would have—wait."

Mid-sentence, his eyes locked straight onto Evelyn, and he froze solid.

His face drained of all color, contorting into the sheer horror of a man encountering the absolute last person on earth he ever wanted to see.

"Are you all right?" Evelyn asked, tilting her head in concern.

Why was he reacting so violently? It was almost as if... he looked at her like someone who had spent months dumping chores onto her shoulders against her will, teasing her relentlessly, and chatting with her like an old, deeply familiar companion.

"Have we... met somewhere before?"

The instant the question left her lips, the man was already gone. He had vanished into thin air, leaving nothing behind but the empty pavement.

"Huh?"

She had desperately wanted to ask where that bizarre aura of familiarity came from. Evelyn tapped her chin with her spoon, plunging into deep thought.

"Did you recognize him, Your Majesty?"

"No, not really... but..."

It was difficult to put into words. The man had addressed her in polite honorifics, yet somehow... it carried the unmistakable undertone of someone speaking down to her casually. His inflection bore the faint, unmistakable scent of the forum.

"Well, I suppose I can just ask him if we ever run into each other again."

Hair as dark as midnight. Eyes like obsidian pools. And in stark contrast, skin so deathly pale it looked as though he hadn't seen the sun in years.

"I don't think I'll be forgetting that face anytime soon."

With his striking features lingering vividly in her mind, Evelyn scooped another generous bite of tuna into her mouth.

"Well, at least some things never change."

Endless urban legends. Wild rumors piling atop wilder delusions until fiction became accepted fact. Yes, this was the forum I knew and loved. Browsing the board finally brought a soothing blanket of calm over my frayed nerves.

...That peace lasted right up until I saw the exact cult from the streets running rampant across my board.

"Ah, for fuck's sake, what is this garbage now?!"

Season three's profanity unlocked. I clutched my head, feeling my consciousness threaten to depart this mortal realm entirely.