Myeolgal Wiki (Part 2)

The Head Mod Marketplace opened twice a day.

Yet aside from a handful of staple items, the inventory rotated entirely at random. That meant users had no choice but to wait endlessly, praying that whatever they desperately craved would finally roll around on the daily catalog.

And now, they were being told they could request anything—including unlisted items that had never once appeared on the marketplace?

The announcement triggered a ripple effect far greater than I had anticipated. Offering raw cash wouldn't have provoked anywhere near this level of madness.

"Did I underestimate the marketplace too much?"

Before, users had approached the wiki with casual curiosity. Now, it wasn't just active; it was an all-out industrial revolution. Over a hundred articles were edited or updated every single minute. Intellectuals like scholars and wizards abandoned their research entirely, camping out on MyeolGal Wiki to churn out entries as if defending doctoral dissertations.

Contest participation skyrocketed off the charts. Yet compared to the staggering effort poured into the wiki, the rewards were brutally sparse:

Only three categories existed. At most, three people in the entire world would claim a prize, setting up an unforgiving, cutthroat competition.

Yet despite the terrible odds, the fire refused to dwindle.

Is it because of the marketplace?

The more modern food I introduced to this fantasy realm, the deeper their primal obsession grew. Perhaps because this was a ruined, post-apocalyptic world, getting to savor a rare treat had become a lifelong dream for some. Naturally, that level of desperation began spawning all kinds of absurd situations.

A treasonous leak villain had emerged, gunning straight for the Most Popular Document title by weaponizing state secrets. Fortunately, the entry was discovered by the World Tree just as it crossed the high nine-thousands in views. Right before genuine national intelligence could be published in full, the World Tree purged the article at the speed of light.

"Are you out of your damn mind...?"

Was a mouthful of fried chicken really worth burning your own nation's secrets to the ground? Granted, Adrian had fractured in two and was already descending into chaos from the Black Death, but this was crossing a line.

Making a harsh example of him seemed to calm the crowd somewhat. With treason off the table, the gallums turned their eyes toward Category 1: Most Documents Authored. Unfortunately, that prize was already under total, unassailable monopoly.

"Whoa, whoa."

The World Tree, acting as chief wiki administrator, had racked up an insurmountable mountain of documents before a single day had even passed.

Given its colossal size, the tree possessed countless branches capable of drafting separate articles simultaneously. On top of that, its unique divine consciousness allowed it to parallel-process hundreds of thoughts at once. Naturally, the community erupted in outrage. Even the cowardly elves—who usually shrunk into trembling meekness before their sacred tree—ventured out to lodge a protest. Everyone's craving for my bounty was reaching fever pitch, but...

Fists were closer than words.

With Category 1 completely locked down, the battlefield narrowed to just two slots: Most Popular Document and Most Media Attached. And quite unexpectedly, the undisputed front-runner for Most Popular Document was an acquaintance of mine—or rather, an elf.

My Sub-Mod, Full-Health Elf. The subject she tackled was none other than the "El-Ladh Incidents and Disasters" archive. Conveniently, El-Ladh had recently weathered a staggering string of catastrophes—from mutant deer and Bone Dragons to the grand invasion of the city itself.

Until now, the chaos in El-Ladh had only been shared through frantic, real-time posts and blurry snapshots. Many gallums had missed the events entirely or wanted a cohesive recap. As an eyewitness and key commander at ground zero, Full-Health Elf laid out her firsthand experiences alongside exclusive, high-resolution photos, easily sweeping up an astronomical view count.

"She might actually take the crown at this rate."

She held a commanding lead of over fifty thousand views over second place. Barring an act of god, her victory seemed assured.

Already savoring her inevitable triumph, Full-Health Elf counted down the final seconds in sheer ecstasy. The instant the timer struck zero, the victorious handles were proudly emblazoned across the wiki's front page!

A name completely out of left field sat proudly among the champions.

One hour before the deadline, our beloved registered succubus, WholesomeModest, had authored a single document. The subject? Herself.

She had embedded several of her most provocative archival photos alongside a one-minute video leveraging the forum's brand-new media feature. That alone ended the war.

An utterly overwhelming landslide. The Golden Olive Chicken went straight to WholesomeModest, while Full-Health Elf's soul departed her body as she collapsed face-first onto the dirt.

Comfort was nowhere to be found. The moderator chatroom was a cold, unforgiving wasteland. As the greenhorn, she couldn't dare talk back to Godjukheup, and I was the Head Mod. A profound, crushing loneliness bled through Full-Health Elf's text.

"Well, I'll send her a treat soon as a bonus for her mod duties. That should cheer her up."

I wasn't completely heartless; I didn't intend to just leave her wallowing in despair. Making a mental note to reward her later, I checked on the final winner. The champion of Category 3—Most Media Attached—was CarbonatedMadman. That bizarre outlier of a gallum proudly made off with an entire crate of Zero Coke.

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As for the World Tree, it went without saying that it asked for fertilizer—or rather, it brazenly demanded a photograph of me.

Naturally, the request was rejected on the spot.

And so, the grand competition came to a close with everyone happy—or at least alive.

"Guess it's time to pay my Sub-Mod her dues."

My faithful, unpaid slave. As I set aside some time to browse through the system catalog to pick out a suitable reward for Full-Health Elf's hard work, a ping flashed across my console.

"Wait, what the hell? That's literally Penny."

The girl I had picked up off the street. The features in the sketch matched her to a tee. I had always thought her appearance was unusually distinct, but was she an acquaintance of Godjukheup?

Delighted at the thought that someone might finally come and take the freeloading menace off my hands, I typed back without hesitation.

"What?"

My Sub-Mod was nonchalantly declaring a premeditated violent crime against a child directly to my face.