“Live Apocalypse?”
Before the operation began, Mgu had approached .
Even as the world was crumbling, he never lost his smile. He had asked to serve as his embedded war correspondent.
“Let’s do it like before,” he said.
I declined for two reasons.
First, the risk.
This mission wasn’t comparable to hunting a Screar. The danger was in another league entirely.
People tend to consciously ignore things that don’t align with what they hope to see.
You wouldn’t notice it on the surface, not in the official operation docunt, nor in the Screar-hunt brief.
But if you compare them closely, the difference is glaring.
The Screar hunt dedicated over half its pages to evacuation and survival plans. This mission? Not a single ntion of fallback or retreat.
A deliberate omission.
What’s the point of writing up an evacuation plan for a mission we’re unlikely to survive? Everyone knows what failure here would an. It doesn’t need to be spelled out.
But so people survive anyway.
Even in the heart of Seoul after everyone had left—even in that hellhole swarming with zombies and monsters—even in that tilted building—Mgu kept laughing.
That guy would be one of the few to survive even after Seoul fell.
“I’m sorry, Mgu. Not this ti.”
He tilted his head.
I t his eyes and spoke plainly.
“...Just between you and . This operation has almost no chance of success, let alone survival.”
We had all written our wills.
Those without families or close friends, like myself, wrote them for whover might survive us.
I was one of thirteen who didn’t leave a will.
I had no desire to waste emotional energy on such things. My will—if it could be called that—was already stored in my bunker.
Not a letter, not a docunt, but the traces of Park Gyu, the man who once lived through the collapse of the world. Hidden deep in my shelter, waiting for so distant alien or future human to find it.
They wouldn’t get a fossil of my body, sure. But that’s fine.
I’ve long since decided: it’s better to die resisting fate than live and die in regret.
“If I don’t make it back, tell our story. Say whatever you want.”
Mgu looked shaken for a mont—then sothing flickered in his eyes. He gave a lazy, sly grin.
“Oh? That’s how it is, huh?”
“?”
“Got it, SKELTON.”
He turned his back to .
Surprising. I expected that shaless bastard to cling to and beg.
Over his shoulder, he asked casually—
“Just one thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think you’ll make it back?”
I hesitated briefly. No reason to lie.
“Probably not.”
He let out a short snort.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’ll make it back.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re SKELTON. And you’re also TwelveSquare.”
His gaze was more serious than I’d ever seen.
“...”
I didn’t respond. Just looked him in the eye.
That was my way of saying thanks. And that I agreed.
I would survive.
I had too much to do.
Including becoming an internet legend.
“...”
No. I had to survive.
“Anyway, I’m a little shocked SKELTON won’t cooperate, but whatever. I’ll carry out the plan myself.”
“Plan?”
“Oh, I’m not telling a traitor. If you’re that curious, ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ ask Deadman.”
“Deadman?!”
How the hell did he know that na?
But Mgu just whistled and walked off.
From the doorway, he tossed one last line—
“Anyway, SKELTON. I believe in you.”
That was the last conversation we had before the mission.
Of course, I never asked DeadmanWorking about the plan Mgu ntioned.
I wasn’t even sure it was the sa Deadman I knew. And even if it was, he wasn’t the kind of person who ca just because you called.
I didn’t have ti to wait for answers like in the past.
And now, that so-called plan of Mgu’s... it had resurrected out of nowhere, like a lie co to life.
And now he was speaking to us again.
mmmmmmmmm: Friends on the field? If you’re still alive, reach out! Don’t worry—it’s all maxed out. Every damn junk phone should be force-connected right now!
mmmmmmmmm: Phone, radio, walkie-talkie—whatever. If it can receive or transmit Necropolis signals, say sothing. The creator of Necropolis is breaking his damn back trying to make your voices heard!
I tapped on one of the phones wired into the NP device.
The screen lit up.
Still alive.
The screen was over half blackened and cracked, unusable by normal standards, but you could scroll just enough to type a short ssage at the bottom.
I used that phone to connect to the internet.
It was automatically connected to Necropolis.
I stared at its plain, functional interface.
There it was.
A portal link to Viva! Apocalypse! at the bottom.
I clicked it—and my familiar world lit up across the cracked screen.
[ Welco to Viva! Apocalypse! ]
The top of the screen was unreadable from burn damage, so I scrolled down.
There.
[ Live! Apocalypse! Broadcast in Progress! ]
Below that, a chatroom previously used only by lon Mask was now open to the public.
And a new ssage had appeared.
mmmmmmmmm: If you’re on the battlefield and seeing this—co in! There’s a room just for you! Hurry!
“......”
My chest tightened.
lon Mask.
Could he be involved too?
It was even more likely than DeadmanWorking.
After all, Mgu was one of the few “petit-na” users with direct access to lon Mask.
mmmmmmmmm: Only one person’s joined so far! Everyone else, hurry! Let’s go live already!
I looked around at the other phones connected to the NP rig.
I detached the usable ones and handed them to my team.
“What’s this?”
“Why now?”
“Just look at the screen.”
They each stared at the phones.
Their eyes lit up with reflected light from the cracked screens.
“What is this?” Kim Daram asked.
“...A miracle.”
We thought all communication—and hope—had been cut off.
We were wrong.
mmmmmmmmm: Field friends, connect now! Only thirteen are in!
I pressed the access button.
A new screen popped up.
[ Enter your na and team ]
A filter to block trolls, maybe.
Even if a teor was falling on Earth, trolls would still troll ssage boards.
I typed my reply into the stiff, unfamiliar screen.
[ SKELTON, Team Professor ]
“Ah.”
I’d typed my handle instead of my real na.
But whatever.
[ Welco to the Live! Apocalypse! Private Chatroom ]
SKELTON was Park Gyu, and Park Gyu was SKELTON.
At the top of the chat window, login records were already displayed.
Kim Hanna (Team Grave) has entered.
Song Gil-hoon (Team Direwolf) has entered.
Park Chang-jo (Team Jade) has entered.
Cha Jeong-hwan (Team Archer) has entered.
...
...
SKELTON has entered.
“...”
As expected.
Soone here knows who I am.
Soone who’s running this board in real ti.
Probably the VivaBot.
My suppressor. My best observer.
Not everyone knows who SKELTON is.
Lee Haru (Team Longspear): ? SKELTON? Who’s that?
Ryu Jeong-hee (Team Goblin): ??
Jang Geun-su (Team Wolf): anjdi
Kim Hanna (Team Grave): Wait, no way...?
Seo Young-hoon (Team Wolf): Isn’t that the guy who used to post all those weird rants?
Ham Chun-ok (Team Singijeon): Yeah, and then pretends he didn’t when caught comnting on raunchy threads.
...
These folks probably knew both Professor in real life and SKELTON online—but never imagined they were the sa person.
Only a chosen few know the truth.
“Oh! SKELTON!”
A grainy image popped up on the screen—Mgu in sunglasses, grinning into the cara.
He must’ve used the phone’s cara.
“Can you hear ? Want to switch to chat?”
SKELTON: Let’s use chat for now.
ssages exploded up the screen, question marks flying like a storm.
Lee Haru (Team Longspear): So seriously—who the hell is SKELTON?
Park Min-seop (Team Sapphire): What is even going on right now?
Jo Hyeong-wook (Team Greyhound): Whoever’s verifying mbers, this seems legit.
Kim Hanna (Team Grade): No way...
Seo Young-hoon (Team Wolf): SKELTON’s that guy who writes all the crazy stuff on Viva...
Ham Chun-ok (Team Singijeon): Totally. Then acts like he didn’t.
“...”
It was chaos.
But I had to bring order.
Tack tack tack.
SKELTON: I’m Park Gyu.
The chat froze.
Then I froze it literally.
SKELTON: Mgu, lock the chat for .
mmmmmmmmm: Okay!
As the room went quiet again, I rapidly typed on the flickering screen.
SKELTON: All team leads, report your current status imdiately.
Mgu re-enabled writing permissions as soon as I finished typing.
Responses flooded in.
Jo Hyeong-wook (Team Greyhound): All green.
Bae Sang-moon (Team Singijeon): New types appeared everywhere, but we’re holding.
Park Min-seop (Team Sapphire): All green.
Pyo Min-ah (Team Jackal): Reporting for Team Leader Shim Hyeong-do. All green.
Seo Young-hoon (Team Wolf): One minor injury. Mission continues. Green.
...
And then:
Na Hye-in (Team Alpha One): All green.
She responded too.
I sent the next command.
SKELTON: All teams regroup and reorganize around Alpha One.
SKELTON: Reason—enemy reinforcents from capsules are mostly small-types. Small-types lack mass destruction capabilities. Form a dense mass. Create a “tumor” in their territory they can’t ignore.
SKELTON: Avoid engagent. Expect fanatic ambushes. Hunters should lead ahead of vehicles. Teams without Awakened or mobility—stay put and request support.
SKELTON: Heaven has reconnected us.
SKELTON: The gate of possibility stands before us.
My every word and movent was likely being broadcast worldwide through Live! Apocalypse!
Even in orbit, lon Mask was probably watching us.
Maybe Kang Han-min too.
Doesn’t matter.
I would do what I had to.
“Anyone here good with internet?”
Gong Gyeong-min raised his hand.
“You?”
“I used to admin the Jeju Intranet ga-Board.”
“Red Archive?”
“?!”
He flinched.
I ignored it with a smile and moved on.
“Check how the others are doing.”
Then I turned to the Chinese soldiers behind our armored vehicle.
They were foreigners, but they’d resolved to die just like we had.
They all looked at .
“It’s starting now.”
They nodded.
“Can I ask for recon?”
One soldier with glasses nodded.
He might not have understood perfectly—but maybe he felt the aning in my voice.
Whirrrrr—
The top hatch opened, and a light catapult hurled out a tiny drone.
Its wings unfurled and buzzed into the mist like an insect.
“Three dium-types confird.”
Jiang Shuying reported.
I asked them—
“You’ll keep your promise, right?”
Jiang Shuying and the others all turned toward and saluted from their cramped seats.
I returned the gesture.
Whirrrrr—
The hatch opened again.
Inside: chanized weapons of death—the very machines that once hunted Koreans and Aricans alike.
Whether they’d work on monsters... we were about to find out.
“Senior.”
Kim Daram approached.
“What is it?”
She handed a phone.
“A military phone?”
Top grade.
Priceless now—even more valuable than its weight in gold.
Only the Jeju faction could have sothing like this.
“It’s Gong’s. Gong Gyeong-min’s.”
“Him?”
“Yeah. Said it was a spare. Works fine.”
She handed it over.
Even the cara and APU ran perfectly.
“He thought maybe you could wear it like a body cam. You know, for the stream.”
“What?”
“Well. He figured SKELTON loves the spotlight.”
She smiled.
“But please... no beatboxing.”
I laughed despite myself.
That bastard Gong Gyeong-min.
So he posted too?
I guess it made sense. He was always a net ghost when we road together.
Fine.
I activated the phone.
- SKELTON has entered.
gijayangban: Welco, senior ^^
A familiar face.
SKELTON: It was you?
gijayangban: Yep. Eomchang here.
SKELTON: I’m not Eomchang.
Another appeared.
deadman_working: The voices of the dead wandering the ether might sound romantic, but I, too, am among the living.
deadman_working: Everything dies eventually. But I still hope the voices of the living echo a little longer.
And then—
LON_MASK: Watching from space.
LON_MASK: Twelve Square. Or rather—
LON_MASK: SKELTON.
“...”
I clipped the phone tightly to my chest like a body cam.
I wouldn’t see the chat anymore.
But that didn’t an my story had ended.
From now on, everything I did would be my ssage.
Clack—
The rift—the monsters—those beings from another dinsion asked us a question:
Are you humans truly what you claim to be—gods in miniature, superior beings, chosen above all others?
They gave us the answer.
We were not.
We were never divine.
Not even exceptional.
Despite our delusions of destroying the planet, we were just another dood species on this Earth.
And now—
It’s our turn to ask.
At least my question is clear:
Can you die, too?
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