Let’s go back to the beginning.

What I need is a weapon capable of one-hit kills, reusable against small types and—within limits—medium-sized monsters, and cheap to operate.

In terms of reusability and cost, melee weapons naturally come up. But we’ve already established that the limits of melee weapons are inherently tied to the limits of the human body—and thus they cannot satisfy the condition of “one-hit kills.”

I need something else.

“How about steam power? Like compressed air?”

As expected from an engineer, Seven suggested a power source I hadn’t even considered.

But his novel idea collapsed under its own weight.

“Hmm. But now that I think about it, generating high-temperature, high-pressure steam would take considerable energy, and even if we did manage it, the device would be pretty heavy.”

“How heavy are we talking?”

“Something useful would be around 10kg. If you want it reliable—at least 15kg or more.”

“Then it’s a no-go.”

I’m not some legendary hero from Romance of the Three Kingdoms like Guan Yu or Zhang Fei.

Any weapon I carry and swing around has to be under 5kg—at the absolute maximum.

Even those European Hunters who used oversized greatswords for show mostly stuck around 3kg, and they were constantly trying to lighten them with advanced materials.

“Well, yeah. And even if we did make one, whether it’d actually have the necessary stopping power is another question entirely.”

Seven gave me a troubled look.

“We’ll have to think on this a bit more.”

He’s right.

My new weapon hasn’t even taken shape yet.

While my own progress stalls, Foxgames is stuck in the same kind of stagnation.

Unlike my situation though, his oldbie-packed forum at least still sees some suggestions.

Denis_Oldman: What if you build it around a game genre you like?

ROKA_HUN: We could just stick together as a core group.

The rate of suggestions had definitely dropped.

Fox_God: That’s not it. That’s not what I mean.

Foxgames dismissed every idea thrown his way.

At_Line: What about going back to survival-focused posts and casual check-ins, like six years ago?

Even users I didn’t know existed—people who never posted before—started chiming in. But it was no use.

Fox_God: Everyone dies eventually. I’ve made peace with the fact that death will come for me too.

Trying to understand someone like Foxgames—someone who’s my complete opposite—is a monumental task.

Trying to simulate the inner workings of a person whose logic tree is totally alien to my own is not only inaccurate but ultimately just ends up producing a Foxgames-shaped Skelton.

“...”

I sat in the office, mindlessly refreshing the page again and again when the door creaked open.

It was Woo Min-hee.

Back to work after a long break.

Wearing a white coat and light makeup as usual, her face wore the same cynical blankness it always had.

“Long time no see.”

I acknowledged her.

She didn’t reply. Just sat in the middle of the three-person sofa.

Cheon Young-jae, who had been tucked in the corner of the sofa, quietly got up and moved to the conference table.

“Sigh.”

Woo Min-hee threw her arms across the sofa’s backrest and crossed her legs, head tilted back.

Looks like something’s bothering her.

“Something wrong?”

I asked.

She blew air out of her lips and shook her head.

“No, not really.”

“Then good.”

Her eyes fixed on me.

There was a flicker of curiosity in them for a split second—then it was gone.

“That thing Foxgames is making.”

She got to the point.

“Yeah.”

“What do you think’s the problem?”

She frowned while looking at her phone.

“He says he’s bored to death because nothing’s working.”

Well, no surprise there.

To us internet addicts, is there any hell worse than a world without the internet?

Even if Necropolis is technically usable, it’s really just a bizarre open plaza where ten thousand people scream at their own walls.

Min-hee, like me, needs some kind of internet identity to function.

Unfortunately, neither of us has the kind of madness that lets us keep broadcasting as El-Miris even when the viewer count is zero.

Woo Min-hee crossed her arms and glared at me.

“You got any ideas, senior?”

“I already gave one. But he said he doesn’t know what he wants.”

“He said he wants something that feels like ‘the old days,’ right?”

“Yeah.”

‘The old days,’ huh.

He did say that.

But is there any phrase more empty in our times than “the old days”?

Everyone longs for the pre-war era, that time of excess and overabundance.

Even if it was a decadent age—money-obsessed, politically rotten, and flooded with drugs—it was still a paradise compared to today, where every action is tied directly to survival.

“My head hurts. I’m going back.”

Woo Min-hee stood up.

“What the hell,” Cheon Young-jae muttered in confusion, but I understood her.

She’s going through internet withdrawal.

Even I, with my supposed steel will, can feel the onset of tremors—how much worse must it be for her?

“...”

Still, Min-hee has a sharp edge.

She used the forbidden word: ‘the old days.’

‘The old days.’

That phrase refers to a past better than the present.

It includes the time I beatboxed in my bunker, and the time I was showered in praise in America while wearing my Golden Fleece badge.

So what exact point in time is Foxgames referring to when he says “the old days”?

“Ah.”

I nodded.

Something clicked.

I think I finally get what it is Foxgames is longing for.

“What is it?”

Cheon Young-jae asked, but it’s the kind of thing no newcomer—not even a forum friend—could ever understand.

“...”

Tap tap tap

SKELTON: What if we just recreate the old forum as it was?

Something like that.

SKELTON: Not Fox Code. Not this newfangled chatroom. I’m talking about the post-war forum we used to hang out on.

SKELTON: A hidden space only accessible to those who were part of that era.

I don’t care if people call it a cartel.

No matter what they call it, the experience of having shared that past doesn’t change.

Fox_God: :p

That was my conclusion, as a fellow forum friend who shared that time.

Soon enough, the expected objection came in.

Fox_God: Isn’t that a bit too exclusive? I mean, I do treasure you guys—but I’m the admin now. I’ll be running this whole giant site that covers Seoul, Incheon, everything. Playing favorites...

SKELTON: Can’t we afford to be a little exclusive?

Fox_God: :o

SKELTON: We’ve been at this for over five years.

SKELTON: People don’t even stay at one company for five years. Isn’t this kind of special treatment fair?

Fox_God: Hm...

SKELTON: I’m saying let’s preserve our own Viva! Apocalypse!.

Even if we’re strangers, people we’ve never met, whose faces we don’t even know—it doesn’t matter.

We’re bound together by invisible lines.

In those connections, we were one—and we still are.

SKELTON: (Skelton serious) Don’t we deserve that much?

I’d said all I needed to say.

There was nothing more to add—and no obligation to say more.

As a user of the Viva! Apocalypse! Korean board, I’d poured everything out.

What to do with that was up to Foxgames.

Fox_God: Hmm... yeah.

For a fleeting second, I imagined a smart-looking forehead of a man teetering between midlife and old age, deep in thought.

Fox_God: That might not be such a bad idea.

“Hm.”

A faint smile appeared on my lips in the real world.

Fox_God: But that alone feels a little lacking.

SKELTON: (Skelton curious)

Fox_God: Yeah. Asking other people was probably a mistake.

Fox_God: Let’s be honest. You may be good in a fight, Skelton, but when it comes to planning? I’m way ahead of you.

SKELTON: ?

Fox_God: I just had an amazing idea! :)

Well...

From my perspective, it wasn’t all that amazing.

The core format was built off the exact foundation I’d suggested.

In other words, he recreated the UI and layout of the original Viva! Apocalypse! Korean forum almost identically, and set it up so only old users could use it—no new registrations allowed.

An exclusive zone, just for us.

But then, Foxgames added his “brilliant idea.”

A small flame icon appeared next to the board.

Clicking it brought up what looked like an AI-generated altar.

On it, 51 candles were burning.

Each flame had a nameplate with a handle engraved on it.

Anonymous 424, mmmmmmmmm, tntn_Orthopedics, roka3218, Rkkara, Defender, Anonymous 781, kimcic, Dies_irae19, keystone, rokaGG, gijayangban, dontanmom, berkut_break, Denis_Oldman, unicorn18...

And SKELTON.

Yes.

Some names were unfamiliar. Others were laced with memories, both good and bad. But they were all friends who had once shared the same forum era.

Each flame symbolized that user’s survival.

Fox_Games: These 51 flames represent the original users of Viva! Apocalypse! Korean, as of February this year, to the best of my knowledge—excluding cases of theft, duplication, or impersonation.

Fox_Games: I’m sure I missed a few. If people don’t tell me, there’s no way to know. But I did my best. I truly believe these 51 flames are the people who read the same posts when the board was facing its end.

Back to “Fox_Games,” he explained the concept behind this new zone.

Fox_Games: It may sound bleak, but with Viva! Apocalypse! basically shut down, I think it’s only right for us to prepare for the ending we always suspected was coming.

Fox_Games: I haven’t implemented it yet, but I’m planning to make a private log-in roster only I can see. Even people who don’t usually post can at least signal that they’re still alive.

Fox_Games: So we’ll go back to the old system.

Fox_Games: 3 days of no login = potential danger. 7 days = presumed dead.

Fox_Games: Each time, one flame will go out. It might feel lonely to those still here.

Fox_Games: But who else but us would mourn us in our own way?

Fox_Games: ;)

Foxgames’ idea stirred a quiet ripple of reactions.

mmmmmmmmm: Hm. I mean, having someone—even just one guy—to say something nice after I die doesn’t sound bad. I’m in.

Anonymous458: Yeah, I like it. Losing friends sucks, but we’ve all lost one or two already, haven’t we?

rokaGG: Cool. I’d be down for a “last one standing” challenge.

Some of us—like me, Defender, and M9—live in semi-functional group environments.

But most of our old forum friends are still holed up in bunkers, hidden and isolated from the world.

It’s not just that no one would recover our bodies or hold a funeral.

There’s no one but us to even hum a requiem in our memory.

“...”

Tap tap tap

SKELTON: (Skelton agrees) Not a bad idea.

I expressed my respect in my own way.

Foxgames didn’t respond, but someone else did.

gijayangban: Skelton~ Good job~

Defender: ?

Soon, in the revived VIVA! FOX!, there will be a hidden corner where only 51 users can access a replica of the Viva! Apocalypse! Korean forum.

And there, in one section, 51 candles will quietly burn—each one a record of a friend’s survival.

A return to the good old days—just enough nostalgia, no more, no less.

That’s the puzzle piece Foxgames had been searching for.

And that experience gave me major inspiration for my own weapon design.

“Wait, an exoskeleton?”

To put it simply—it’s time to go back to fundamentals.

As Professor Park Gyu, I wasn’t the best at any one thing—but my comprehensive abilities, paired with my rare qualities of observation and record-keeping, earned me top-tier survivalist status.

Still, if there’s one area I truly excel at—an undisputed specialty—it’s melee combat.

Others may claim they’re stronger or better, but no one’s proven it through results like I have.

Now, I intend to amplify that edge.

With an exoskeleton.

Also known as powered armor.

These devices have been studied for decades in military and industrial fields—and even put to limited use in actual deployments.

The U.S. was the most aggressive in developing powered exosuits for Hunters, but Japan and China weren’t far behind.

Even Korea, despite its size, achieved a surprisingly high level of technology.

Makes sense, considering my former mentor Jang Ki-young once ruled the Korean Hunter scene—and he was obsessed with flashy, sci-fi-style equipment.

Exoskeletons are designed to augment the human body—attached or worn, they amplify physical ability.

They let you move 300kg of gear at a time and still jog afterward. Or survive a fall from over ten meters without breaking your legs.

In short, they expand the potential of melee weapons by breaking through the biological limits of the human species.

Of course, exoskeletons have their flaws.

Beyond technical problems, monsters can emit interference pulses that cause critical malfunctions—sometimes snapping limbs in unnatural directions and killing the wearer.

There’s a reason the U.S. gave up on them despite investing astronomical sums.

But things are different now.

We understand monsters better.

We know how they move, how they use their powers—and we have our own countermeasures.

And potential risks can be mitigated by deliberately simplifying the equipment.

Limit it to a single leap. Or a single blow.

Just one chance to feast.

That’s all I need.

“One-use powered armor, huh...”

Seven looked concerned, but we weren’t alone in this.

Another engineer, who’d been listening, finally spoke up.

“There’s a prototype from the K-Warrior platform. No clue if it works, though.”

Looking back, our Viva! Apocalypse! Korean board was always about communication.

Since real-world interaction wasn’t possible, we used the internet.

People’s focus is narrower—and more fickle—than we realize.

So we must remind them.

“What kind of batteries does it use? Lithium’s risky—monsters can set them off.”

Return to the core.

That’s the answer I came away with from today’s conversation.

Clang!

Let the tempering begin.

For the sake of an uncertain future.

Clang!

Sparks fly as the metal plate is hammered flat by the press.