I nodded.
"A hunter, you say?"
Vivabot 014 scoffed.
"Old School? Or Awakened? Oh wait, Awakened types are pretty useless here, aren’t they?"
Was she a Korean-Arican? Or maybe one of her parents was Korean?
At the very least, it was undeniable that she had a solid grasp of Korean culture.
Like the ti she coldly banned soone simply for saying "waeng" instead of "why," which is a quintessential Korean phonetic mimicry.
"Old School."
Ti was running out.
I had to quickly recover my account and deliver my ssage to lon.
"What’s your rank?"
"S."
"S?"
Vivabot sneered, glaring at .
"Did you just say S?"
"S."
"Look, I’ve got access to an Old School Hunter database—excluding China. If you’re lying, I’ll ban you for a month. Are you fine with that?"
"Call sign: Professor."
I had nothing to hide, and my confidence didn’t waver.
Vivabot, previously arrogant, seed to sense the weight of my words. She frowned, glanced at her monitor, and started typing.
It didn’t take long before she seed to find sothing.
Her eyes darted between the monitor and , wide with shock.
She stamred.
"Is your real na, by any chance...?"
"Park Gyu."
"Do you have the badge? The S-rank badge that only S-class hunters receive?"
"Oh, that thing."
I got up and rummaged through a cabinet.
Digging through a black bag stuffed with miscellaneous items, I eventually pulled out a shiny golden badge.
The so-called Golden Fleece.
It was a solid gold badge inspired by the legendary fleece of the golden ram, Chrysomallos, from Greek mythology—an emblem of S-class hunters, of which there had only ever been twelve worldwide.
Once, it had been the ultimate symbol of pride and aspiration for all hunters.
Personally, I wasn’t fond of flaunting such things, so I’d rarely touched it unless attending official events. After the decline of Old School Hunters, it beca more of a self-deprecating relic and was sealed away in storage.
And now, here I was, pulling it out again in this mont.
I was glad I hadn’t thrown it away.
I showed the badge to Vivabot.
"...Oh."
Her face turned pale.
"Could you... show the back?"
I flipped the badge and held it up to the cara.
Engraved on the back were a serial number and an encrypted QR code.
She couldn’t verify the QR code with just her eyes, but the serial number should match her database.
She checked the number and, with an excited voice, asked,
"Are you really Professor? The one who first discovered the origin of mutations?!"
"Yes, I am."
"Wait, why would soone like you do sothing like this...? Are you on drugs?"
"...No."
Her question was irritating, but at least she now seed to recognize as Professor.
"Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re alive! I’ll post an announcent and get you connected to lon imdiately!"
Fa really did have its perks.
Even soone as hostile as Vivabot had turned into an eager helper.
But her newfound enthusiasm carried a dangerous implication.
"An announcent?"
I asked urgently.
"Yes! I’ll post a big ssage: ‘Advice from SKELTON (A.K.A. Professor)!’ How about that?"
"Don’t."
"?"
Was she insane?
Did she want dead?
Right now, even Woo Min-hee was likely watching this live broadcast.
I’d lied to her dozens of tis, saying I wasn’t using the internet.
"My apologies, but could you make it anonymous instead?"
"Why? May I ask the reason?"
"There are people targeting ."
Vivabot nodded.
"Got it! I’ll make it anonymous."
"Wait!"
"What now?"
"Leave SKELTON as is."
"What?"
"I an, you can reveal SKELTON, but not the fact that SKELTON and Professor are the sa person."
Vivabot’s cooperative deanor vanished, replaced by a cold expression.
"And why should I?"
"Because revealing that would complicate things for . Let’s just say it’s a bit... problematic."
"I’ll make it anonymous."
Her icy tone ca through as the video chat abruptly ended.
A notification popped up.
lon Musk.
Say what you will about him, but the man sure lacked an eye for picking staff.
Still, I got what I wanted.
While it was frustrating that I couldn’t reveal my na, I reminded myself this was all for lon Musk’s survival.
Feeling the new privileges granted to , I typed.
Anonymous: lon.
My ssage appeared in the exclusive special chat window, visible only to a select few.
LON_MUSK: Huh? Who are you? Anonymous?
Anonymous: I need to ask you sothing.
LON_MUSK: What is it, specifically?
Anonymous: Were you close to Bumpy?
LON_MUSK: Bumpy? Close to him?
lon Musk took his hands off the keyboard.
"Of course."
His eyes glistened with tears.
"I raised him myself. He was an orphan whose parents were poached by hunters. I brought him ho from an animal shelter, where he was dying. Took care of him with my own hands."
Hearing this, I felt a glimr of hope.
Anonymous: Does Bumpy like you? Does he still follow you, even after growing larger?
LON_MUSK: Of course! Even after he grew big, he still liked !
That confird it.
The ball was now in lon’s court.
Anonymous: What if you used Bumpy?
LON_MUSK: What? Used Bumpy?
Anonymous: Release Bumpy and let him kill Donald.
LON_MUSK: That’s ridiculous. I could die too! Is dying together your big idea?
lon glanced at the cara, his face filled with suspicion.
Before his doubt could turn into rejection, I added another line.
Anonymous: You said you love Bumpy, didn’t you? Don’t you trust him?
lon Musk’s eyes darted around.
Anonymous: As Defender said earlier, judging by the state of the zombies, it wasn’t Bumpy who killed the people. The only one Bumpy killed was that woman. The rest were Donald’s doing. I don’t know why he killed the woman, but—
Before I could finish, lon Musk typed.
LON_MUSK: Anne hated Bumpy. She even hit him when I wasn’t around, tried to kill him too. Of course, Bumpy despised her.
Anonymous: Then the solution is obvious, isn’t it?
The solution was to use Bumpy.
To trust him and make him fight for lon.
It was the only way I saw for lon to get out of this ss.
But my idea clashed with the prevailing narrative.
Sure enough, another user—likely a hunter—spoke up.
Anonymous 68: I get what you’re saying, but mutations are too intelligent to love humans. They see us as their greatest threat. They don’t hate us instinctively; they think and decide to hate us.
This was the common understanding of mutations.
I’d learned it in school and seen it play out countless tis in real life.
But I had also witnessed the exceptions—seen them with my own eyes.
LON_MUSK: Hey, you’re supposed to be a famous hunter, right? My staff says you are.
lon privately ssaged .
I pressed "save" to archive this monuntal ssage before replying.
SKELTON: I’m targeted by too many enemies. But my opinion is real. I’ve experienced it firsthand. Mutations and humans aren’t inherently incompatible.
LON_MUSK: Really?
He didn’t seem to trust .
It wasn’t surprising.
He must have learned the sa common knowledge and conventions about mutations as everyone else.
To persuade him, I flipped through my album and found a particular photo.
It was a mory: with Gold, back when he was alive.
The photo was taken in front of the doghouse I built for him as he was recovering. It was just the two of us, captured in a mont of shared connection.
Though Gold had since passed away and the image of in the photo had been blurred like a ghost, the bond we shared in that mont remained vivid in my heart.
I attached the photo to my ssage and sent it.
LON MUSK: This photo is…?
SKELTON: and a friend who’s no longer here.
On cara, lon Musk’s face was awash with unspoken emotions.
He looked at the cara and spoke.
LON MUSK: If I were to release Bumpy…
Before he could finish, the door to the workspace module swung open.
Beyond the open door, a man in a spacesuit wielding a wrench in both hands burst in with an unmistakable mix of fury and purpose.
Thunk!
The wrench ca crashing down on the head of a zombie.
"lon!!!"
Donald McGarry.
The true nightmare of Plus Ultra glared at the CCTV cara and scread.
"I knew it! You sneaky bastard! You’re always lying! I’m glad I didn’t kill you right away! I figured you’d ss with the rocket!"
Donald McGarry stord past the module, heading straight for the residential section.
The shutters were closed, but with the master key in his possession, they posed no barrier to him.
lon’s options were dwindling fast.
Would he follow the impossible suggestions of the other users or risk everything on his bond with Bumpy?
At least the latter option promised a quicker and less painful death.
It seed lon Musk’s thoughts weren’t far from mine.
He quickly moved to the cultivation module, standing hesitantly before the shutter.
His finger hovered over the button, unable to press it as he wrestled with indecision.
Countless Vivarions watched with bated breath.
This was the mont that would decide the fate of the creator of their world.
Soon, the shutter opened, revealing the green-filled space of the automated cultivation zone.
lon slipped inside through the opening.
"Has he lost his mind?"
Donald staggered at the shutter, his limbs flailing before regaining his balance by grabbing the edge. He stared into the cultivation zone.
What he saw might have been less shock than sheer disbelief.
A massive sloth stood before him, its gaze fixed on lon.
The creature stretched out one grotesque clawed paw.
It wasn’t trying to kill him.
It was trying to pat him on the head.
"Bumpy!"
lon’s face twisted with indescribable emotions as he looked at his pet.
Then Bumpy noticed Donald below, staring up at him.
Bumpy bared his teeth.
Donald scrambled to close the shutter, but the spacefaring sloth, defying expectations, hurtled through the zero-gravity zone with incredible speed.
Bumpy’s monstrous claws lashed out at Donald.
Two things beca clear:
Donald was dead, and in space, sloths were far faster than we’d ever imagined.
*
LON_MUSK: Today, I don’t even know how to properly thank everyone.
The ordeal was over.
Control of Plus Ultra had fully returned to lon Musk, and every threat to his life had been decisively eliminated.
The mission to save the creator of our world had concluded successfully.
LON_MUSK: I’m really sorry, but my heart’s still racing from all the stress. I’ll need a few days to rest. There’s blood to clean up… and bodies too.
Our world's creator gazed at us through the cara.
The silence in the stream was broken only by the faint sound of his typing.
LON_MUSK: Today, I owe my life to all of you. Dongtanmom, Jekyll, Defender, Grrrrr, Ohio, M9, and SKEL—no, to the anonymous user who asked to remain unnad, among others.
He ntioned a few nas, but it was clear the greatest reason he’d survived was the collective support of everyone.
LON_MUSK: The life I owe you, I’ll repay it sohow. I’m not sure exactly what I can do from here, but at the very least, I hope this ssage from space brought you all so hope.
lon Musk stopped typing and let out a faint chuckle.
He seed to think of sothing as his expression brightened, and he began typing again.
LON_MUSK: If you think about it, aren’t your ssages also ssages from space?
Maybe so.
LON_MUSK: We’re living on a planet—look up!
lon smiled brightly and looked up toward the ceiling.
Then, he turned his cara to show a window.
Through the space window, the vast blue planet rotated serenely in the void, its beauty beyond words.
Though parts of it were now tinged with ashen gray, Earth still retained the colors we knew and loved.
"See you in a week, my friends!"
The cara shifted to a corner of the room, where the spacefaring sloth was perched.
Our sloth, Bumpy, was hanging lazily in the cultivation zone, munching on a leaf. He gazed at the cara with serene indifference, as if the chaos from earlier had never happened.
Barely an hour later, an announcent on Viva! Apocalypse! featured a two-shot of lon Musk and Bumpy.
The photo was comical, yet I wasn’t the only one who found "hope" in it.
Reviews
All reviews (0)