Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 69.2: A Message from Space (2)

It was unmistakable.

The voice, the tone—this was Baek Seung-hyun, my senior, who had disappeared into China.

But how was he still alive?

Most of China had long fallen to the monsters, leaving only a few isolated regions untouched. Especially the ruins shown in the live broadcast—they were nothing short of an alien landscape.

Yet, there he was.

coral8108: "What the hell is that?"

XDs_Grrrrr: "That’s Shanghai! Shanghai for sure!"

Anonymous 13: "I thought all of China was completely overrun?"

L-V-R-M: "It is. This streamer is broadcasting from within an erosion zone!"

Anonymous 100: "I applied for a live stream and got banned. Now I think I know why."

Rupert Gauser: "Unbelievable."

gijayangban: "?"

Suddenly, a new feature appeared at the top of the screen: real-time chat from Viva! Apocalypse! users watching the broadcast.

And, of course, our world’s creator, Melon Musk, chimed in with a larger, more colorful font than anyone else’s.

MELON_MASK: "The current streamer is a Korean account holder with the nickname Dongtanmom! Hello, Dongtanmom!"

Instead of responding verbally, Dongtanmom—or perhaps his wife—held up a sketchbook to the camera. Scrawled across it in large, childlike crayon letters was one word:

"YES."

The reaction from the viewers was explosive.

Anonymous 13: "Haha! This person is hilarious!"

The sourc𝗲 of this content is freēwēbηovel.c૦m.

L-V-R-M: "To keep a sense of humor in such dire circumstances—impressive."

demolition'86: "How are they even alive?"

yamasakiem: "How did they get to China?"

I_HATE_NY: "Show me your face, my love."

unicorn18: "Hee hee."

Ohio9: "Hey! Who’s that woman next to you?"

mmmmmmmmm: "Cheers to the house! Pour me a drink!"

Meanwhile, Melon Musk naturally took the lead in hosting the broadcast.

MELON_MASK: "Hey, Dongtanmom! Your footage of Shanghai is impressive, but is that all? There are others waiting to stream, so should I cut the connection soon?"

In response, the screen suddenly swayed left and right. Clearly, Dongtanmom was shaking their head.

A sketchbook appeared again, with hastily scrawled letters:

"SHOW TIME."

Showtime? What could that mean?

As everyone pondered the mystery, a deep, resonant foghorn sound rumbled through the speakers.

Bwooooooooom—

Dongtanmom’s "showtime" had begun.

Suddenly, the camera view lifted into the air, as though they were flying like Superman.

But the truth was far less mystical—a crane.

The close-up showed a bearded man atop a towering crane, giving a thumbs-up as he operated it. The camera panned downward to reveal a massive container ship below.

This wasn’t just any ship—it was likely the Hope, the flagship of a refugee fleet.

Once teeming with desperate survivors, its deck now lay eerily empty, as though everyone had been swept away by waves.

Dongtanmom’s view moved past the desolate deck and toward the gray ruins of the city. As the camera descended sharply, the sound of a heavy thud echoed, followed by the chaotic moans of zombies rising in the background.

Dongtanmom’s sprint began.

Their destination: a half-destroyed warehouse beyond the docks.

Inside, red eyes gleamed in the darkness, filling the screen as the zombies awakened.

Dongtanmom held a grenade up to the camera, pulled the pin, and hurled it at the horde.

Boom!

The explosion momentarily obscured the screen with dust and debris. When the smoke cleared, stacks of what appeared to be Chinese military combat rations were revealed.

Dongtanmom hoisted the boxes high and declared triumphantly:

"Nom!"

The screen then shifted upward, showing hundreds of zombies and unidentified grayish creatures chasing after them. As Dongtanmom ascended, leaving the chaos behind, the camera turned toward the ship's deck.

A few people stood on the deck, waving at the approaching figure.

Dongtanmom landed with a dramatic flourish, covering the camera with their hand before delivering the final line:

"Nom nom."

It was... honestly, impressive.

I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

gordonfreiman: "Unbelievable!"

XDs_Grrrrr: "Dongtanmom! Are they a god?"

Anonymous 666: "A spectacular show! It’s even more amazing because it’s real!"

Dies_Irae69: "We let a talent like this slip away."

Zebusika: "Dongtanmom! Goat."

Rupert_Gauser: "God!"

Alnasru_Alipasha: "May God protect them!"

mmmmmmmmm: "Cheers! I’m dying!"

Even Melon Musk was no exception.

MELON_MASK: "Dongtanmom! You’re incredible!"

What was this feeling?

A creeping sense of inferiority, as though I were being left behind, outshone, worthless.

Could it be that I, the great Professor, was feeling envious of Dongtanmom?

No, that wasn’t it.

There was something off about that broadcast.

Among the zombies chasing Dongtanmom were strange creatures—beings I had never seen before.

They weren’t erosion creatures; those only existed near rifts and disintegrated quickly outside them.

Were they monsters?

Possibly, but they seemed inferior to the elegant and formidable monsters I knew. Their numbers weren’t overwhelming, but there were enough—about one for every ten zombies, making at least forty in total.

Most disturbingly, these creatures actively pursued humans alongside the zombies, something monsters rarely did.

What were they?

I wasn’t the only one wondering.

Anonymous 68: "Were those exterminators just now?"

Exterminators?

A new classification?

It was a term I’d never heard before, but I had been out of the field for a long time. It wouldn’t be surprising if new monsters, types, or theories had emerged in my absence.

The show wasn’t over.

Melon Musk awarded Live! Apocalypse! broadcasting rights to the most passionate and talented users worldwide.

Over the past three years of war, our forum’s users hadn’t simply succumbed to erosion and despair. They had sharpened their skills in the darkness, waiting for their moment to shine.

Subsequent broadcasts included:

A man living in a hot air balloon.A survivalist thriving primitively in the Canadian wilderness.A radiation-poisoned individual documenting their solitary life in a dead city.A resilient animator presenting a self-made short film.Each user brought their unique story and drama to the stage, captivating audiences worldwide.

Even another Korean user made an appearance:

"Hi~ My name is M9. People call me the cliffhanger. Let me introduce my sweet home, the Hope, a miracle in Seoul."

M9 was clearly trying to outdo Dongtanmom. With a smartphone duct-taped to his head, he sprinted through a tilted apartment building, scaling walls with surprising agility.

But his phone fell into an elevator shaft, followed by a resounding Korean expletive:

"Shibal!"

And that was the end of his broadcast.

As the day’s live streams concluded, Melon Musk shared his thoughts via a private message:

MELON_MASK: "That was an incredibly impressive broadcast."

MELON_MASK: "Over the past three years, I’ve considered becoming space dust, like poor Donald. But seeing all of you living your lives so passionately gives me hope."

MELON_MASK: "Live! Apocalypse! will broadcast once a week for one hour every Sunday, Greenwich Mean Time. Why weekly? There are technical constraints, and, honestly, content scarcity could become an issue. Let’s face it—if we ran this 24/7, the quality of the content would plummet. I don’t want our ambitious Live! Apocalypse! to turn into just another ignored broadcast."

Melon Musk clearly knew what he was doing.

While he lacked the poetic flair of someone like John Nae-non, his technical ingenuity and understanding of community dynamics were unparalleled. Musk elaborated further on the weekly schedule:

MELON_MASK: "The primary goal is to give you all a little hope—something to look forward to. You know, like the excitement of waiting for a holiday, a birthday, or the release of a much-anticipated movie—things that have all but disappeared since the war began. I’ve heard rumors of a successful rift closure in India, and apparently, South Korea is attempting one too. But beyond those grand gestures, I wanted to create something small yet meaningful, something you could look forward to each week."

MELON_MASK: "Imagine this: you’re ready to pull the trigger with a .45 against your temple, thinking you’ve had enough. Then it hits you—‘Oh, right! Live! Apocalypse! is on today.’ That thought alone might make you reconsider. Anyway, thank you for your enthusiastic participation today. Anyone can be a star like Dongtanmom, so don’t be shy—give it a try! The door is always open. But please, spare us from strange beatboxing."

Wait. That beatboxing comment...

Was he talking about me?

Probably not.

Still, Melon Musk’s earlier revelation about his dire situation lingered heavily.

MELON_MASK: "...Though I don’t think I’ll last another week."

The chat erupted with questions.

X’De_Grrrrr: "Why?"

Jekyll: "Why?"

Hashire V4: "Why?"

Defender: "Why?"

siao_Xin: "Why?"

Anonymous 101: "Why?"

Rupert_Gauser: "Why?"

gijayangban: "Why?"

Thisaki: "Why?"

SKELTON: "Whaaa?"

I contributed my own reaction, but moments later, a warning window popped up:

<Administrator account "VIVA BOT014" has suspended your chat privileges for 24 hours due to ‘malicious trolling.’>

- For early reinstatement, please contact the help center.

"What?!"

What had I done wrong?

Did I somehow end up on their radar? By VIVABOT014 of all people—a mere underling?

Still, there wasn’t much time to dwell on my frustration. Before I could submit an appeal, Melon Musk shared a grim update on his condition.

MELON_MASK: "Sorry to say, but I don’t think I’ll make it another week. I’m out of food and water. To survive, I’d need to reclaim the other modules, but in my current state, restoring Plus Ultra is impossible."

His death seemed imminent.

The image he had shown earlier—a man wasted away from prolonged malnutrition—was a haunting reflection of his reality.

MELON_MASK: "But even if I’m gone, Live! Apocalypse! will continue. Dongtanmom, as a token of appreciation, our HQ will send you a solar-powered long-range drone with a small gift. Now, let’s hear Dongtanmom’s message."

Melon Musk granted Dongtanmom special chat privileges.

Unlike the standard chat displayed at the top of the screen, Dongtanmom’s golden-highlighted message appeared prominently in the center.

What would they say?

I half-expected their usual catchphrase, “Nom nom.”

But the actual message shattered my expectations.

dongtanmom: "Why are you giving up?"

"...?"

dongtanmom: "Why give up? My family was abandoned in China, yet we’re still alive. And you still have the strength to send us these messages. If you have doubts, ask for our help. Isn’t that what Viva! Apocalypse! is for?"

Coming from someone who scavenged equipment from the dead without paying a dime to Melon Musk, the words carried a surprising weight.

Even after their stunning broadcast, Dongtanmom’s message struck a deeper chord, resonating with everyone watching.

MELON_MASK: "Dongtanmom... ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯"

dongtanmom: "Tell us exactly what you’re facing. There are hunters among us who might be able to help."

The moment I saw that message, I rushed to change my username.

[Change SKELTON to professor?]

Click.

[Sorry! This username already exists!]

"Damn it..."

While I momentarily veered off course, Live! Apocalypse! transitioned into its next chapter.

The screen revealed the dark, weightless void of space.

Droplets of blood, now blackened, floated in the zero-gravity environment.

Melon Musk, guided by advice from Dongtanmom and other users, began devising survival strategies with the limited resources at his disposal.

MELON_MASK: "I don’t have firearms. There’s a blunt weapon, but I don’t have the strength to use it. I’ve got a few drones, but they’re useless in zero gravity and can’t even kill a zombie with their current 16V power supply."

MELON_MASK: "Some assembly is possible, though."

MELON_MASK: "Compressed air? I think I had something like that lying around."

MELON_MASK: "I’ll give it a try."

The cosmic-scale drama unfolding before us could only be titled:

"Saving Melon Musk."