NOVPUBThey say that no one knows the creator of Necropolis, nor can they ever find out.
The only clue is that he supposedly uses the username Death_Lord98 within Necropolis, but even this is debated among its own users.
Now, the person presumed to be this mysterious administrator has appeared before me.
Message from Deadman_working: Who am I? That doesn’t matter. What matters is that, by chance, you caught my eye. Your username looked familiar to me.
Was this magic?
The creator of Necropolis was said to possess skills so formidable that even Melon Musk, once hailed as a genius entrepreneur, would have felt despair in comparison.
Just now, for a brief moment, he made my screen go black.
SKELTON: (shocked) My screen just turned black?! How did you do that?!
I asked.
What kind of trick had he used?
Deadman responded with a casual indifference.
Message from Deadman_working: Why did your screen go black? Simple. I embedded a small code into the message. It’s something like ASCII commands—just a line of code that changes the screen’s color.
Message from Deadman_working: Like this.
The screen turned blue.
Message from Deadman_working: How about this?
Now it was green.
Message from Deadman_working: I don’t like this color.
Then, it changed to purple.
Message from Deadman_working: This board was sloppily made from the start. Changing a color is nothing.
And then, it returned to normal.
Message from Deadman_working: Recently, someone’s been posting a lot in Necropolis, hinting that they are TwelveSquare.
So now we were getting to the point.
I adjusted my posture and waited for his next message.
Message from Deadman_working: Many people have impersonated TwelveSquare before, but only two have been consistently claiming to be him. And one of them...
Message from Deadman_working: Their signal was picked up from somewhere unusual.
Message from Deadman_working: That’s right. From Korea.
Message from Deadman_working: The legendary broadcasts of TwelveSquare were made from within Korean territory.
Message from Deadman_working: That’s why I contacted you.
So that was it.
I had assumed some all-knowing hacker had accessed all of Viva! Apocalypse!’s records and decided to reach out to me.
But in reality, there was a reason behind it.
It wasn’t as if some omniscient god had peered into my life and chosen to talk to me.
Still, this guy knew that the transmission from me and Ballantine to Necropolis had originated from Korea.
Even if he wasn’t the actual creator of Necropolis, he certainly had administrator-level access.
It made sense.
In Necropolis, when a post is made from a region outside of the U.S. or Europe, it appears like this:
Dead73609(???): I have information about TwelveSquare. If any administrator sees this, I request contact.
Whereas for users in the U.S. or Europe, it looks like this:
Dead10851(MD): There’s plenty of trash around, but is there a way to burn it without worrying about toxic fumes?
Dead59231(GER): Like last year, should we just burn people instead?
Dead5413(FRC): Mutations stole all my harvested crops.
Dead43219(IN): A guy in my area died yesterday using homemade bullets. His gun exploded.
...
...
As you can see, posts from America and Europe display regional markers, while others do not.
And that’s not something an individual user can manipulate.
Necropolis operates on the bare minimum of resources—besides posting, no other functions are supported.
Users can’t send private messages or access each other’s information.
Only an administrator could interpret the meaning of the ??? location marker.
Of course, this alone wasn’t enough to confirm that Deadman_working was an administrator.
But I wasn’t looking for an administrator.
I wanted to find the creator of Necropolis.
Because I had a request to make.
SKELTON: I am TwelveSquare.
I told the truth.
But the truth doesn’t always sound convincing.
And sure enough—
Message from Deadman_working: Proof?
He immediately questioned me.
A reasonable doubt.
The person who broadcasted as TwelveSquare and my current self had different accounts, different usernames, different location data.
And in my current state, it was impossible for me to log into that old account.
The satellite equipment was still abandoned in a remote outpost on Hallasan, in a place where no one would ever go.
There was only one thing I could do.
SKELTON: What would it take for you to believe me?
I had to prove myself.
That wouldn’t be easy.
Message from Deadman_working: I already know the account information for TwelveSquare. Both from an account level and the satellite terminal’s serial number, you and TwelveSquare are completely different people.
As expected.
SKELTON: Is there any way around this?
I asked again.
Silence.
No response.
“······.”
I kept waiting.
Right now, the only person we could realistically consult about network and communication issues was the creator of Necropolis.
The idea of building a second PaleNet was a romantic notion, but the physical limitations were overwhelming.
For a group of our size, it was simply impossible.
At least for now.
Unless we had someone like King on our side.
Then, after a long stretch of waiting, a new message arrived.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
Message from Deadman_working: But I do believe you genuinely want to help people. And, honestly, I wouldn’t mind if more people started using Necropolis.
“!!”
As soon as I read that, I clenched my fists without realizing it.
Message from Deadman_working: But there’s a condition.
SKELTON: A condition?
Message from Deadman_working: I’ve been watching your Korean message board.
Message from Deadman_working: You know that guy, mmmmmmmmm?
SKELTON: Yeah, I know him.
Message from Deadman_working: Are you friends? Close acquaintances?
SKELTON: Not at all. Just rivals.
Message from Deadman_working: Good.
What was this suddenly about M9?
Before I could ask, Deadman continued.
Message from Deadman_working: Kill him.
“?”
I tilted my head.
It had been a while since I last encountered something so incomprehensible.
The message he sent was so far removed from my usual train of thought that I felt like I was reading something written in an entirely different language.
Message from Deadman_working: Kill him, then verify it using his account. If TwelveSquare could take down dozens of soldiers and monsters alone, this should be an easy task.
I immediately replied.
SKELTON: You’re joking, right?
A thought crossed my mind.
This man, Deadman_working—
Maybe he was far more broken than I had imagined.
Message from Deadman_working: I don’t joke. I buried my sense of humor alongside my comrades long ago.
SKELTON: Are you even really connected to Necropolis?
Message from Deadman_working: If I am, will you kill mmmmmmmmm for me?
“That’s not the point.”
I typed the same words into the chat.
And then I asked.
SKELTON: What’s your real motive? Why are you saying this?
The feeling I got from him...
It reminded me of Defender.
That same scent—
Something I could neither understand nor ever hope to.
Message from Deadman_working: Humanity is already doomed.
Message from Deadman_working: No one can survive. No matter what hope you hold onto, no matter what values you believe in, this truth will never change.
Message from Deadman_working: Humanity cannot win against the Rifts. The Rifts don’t exist to fight humans—they exist to compete with Earth itself. And the idea that humans, mere parasites on this planet, could represent Earth and fight back?
Message from Deadman_working: Now that...
Message from Deadman_working: That’s the real comedy.
“······.”
Deeply unpleasant as it was, Deadman Working and I shared similar thoughts.
I had no intention of denying it.
My view on humanity’s future wasn’t all that different from his.
Humanity would lose.
We couldn’t win this fight.
Even now, beings like Kang Han-min and Na Hye-in—practically gods among men—were struggling, unable to close a single minor Rift on Jeju Island.
Message from Deadman_working: In the end, we all walk the same path toward destruction. Does it really matter who dies first, who lives longer, or who maintains their morality? We don’t look at dinosaur fossils in a museum and discuss the virtue of individual specimens, do we?
“······.”
I had finally found it.
The difference between us.
They say that while languages may differ, human thoughts are ultimately the same.
But language is just a tool to express thought.
With the wisdom of Melon Musk behind me, I sent my thoughts to this distant, unknown acquaintance.
SKELTON: I don’t think that’s true.
Message from Deadman_working: Why?
He asked in return.
I let out a short sigh and typed.
SKELTON: Even if I am going to die, I will die as a human being.
Without hesitation.
Message from Deadman_working: The definition of "human" varies from person to person.
SKELTON: I trust you have enough literacy to understand my point. Besides, I have no interest in discussing philosophy with someone I barely know.
SKELTON: What I need is a way to share what we know with as many people as possible. Whether that’s Necropolis, or your mother’s police station, I don’t really care.
That was my stance.
My firm, unwavering will.
A brief silence stretched across the monitor, the network cables, the satellites.
Ding—
A notification popped up.
But it wasn’t from Deadman.
Message from COOKIEMONSTER18: Skelton~
It was from Rebecca. Or Sue.
Someone I knew. Someone I cherished.
By some miracle, in the exact moment I needed it most, their message arrived.
And despite its sudden appearance, it overwhelmed me with emotion.
Taptaptap—
SKELTON: (Skelton shocked) What’s with the sudden message?!!!!
It made me react with exaggerated excitement, something completely unlike me.
This was one of the small miracles I had learned about after the war.
Even if we were all doomed, even if we could never escape that fate—was there really a need to shatter these connections with our own hands? 𝙣𝒐𝙫𝙥𝙪𝙗.𝙘𝙤𝙢
Ignoring Deadman, I focused on waiting for Rebecca and her daughter’s response, staring at my monitor.
Soon, another message arrived.
Message from Deadman_working: I do agree with the idea of keeping at least one person alive.
I tilted my head.
SKELTON: Suddenly?
Message from Deadman_working: It’s not for altruistic reasons like yours, Skelton.
SKELTON: (Skelton confused)
Message from Deadman_working: Necropolis is the city of the dead. The more echoes that reverberate forever within the city of the dead, the better. That’s what I want as its builder.
Message from Deadman_working: Can you secure a location with at least the broadcasting capacity of a small regional station for 72 hours?
The conversation advanced abruptly.
And I hadn’t done anything.
I hadn’t persuaded him. I hadn’t even presented a logical argument.
Yet, out of nowhere, he had suddenly agreed.
SKELTON: I can try, but why the sudden change of heart?
Message from Deadman_working: You’re mistaken. I never changed my mind. Didn’t I already tell you? I welcome more users in Necropolis.
I scrolled up.
He had, indeed, said that.
Message from Deadman_working: If there’s someone willing to act as an agent in the Necropolis wasteland of East Asia, I’m willing to work with them. As I said before, the more voices echoing in the city of the dead, the better.
“······.”
He was still speaking in a way I couldn’t fully understand.
But he had reached out first.
He had knowledge and resources that I didn’t.
SKELTON: So if I secure the broadcasting equipment you mentioned, Necropolis will be usable in Korea?
There was no reason to refuse.
If we judged every deal based on morality, few transactions in this world would ever be made.
Message from Deadman_working: As long as you meet my requirements. The process involves connecting one transmission stream to another.
SKELTON: That’s all? You’re not going to demand any unnecessary sacrifices?
Message from Deadman_working: Why would I?
SKELTON: Then why did you bring up M9 earlier?
Message from Deadman_working: Because I don’t like people like him giving others hope.
SKELTON: ?
Message from Deadman_working: It’s been proven in multiple regions—false hope only makes people live longer.
SKELTON: And you don’t want people to live longer?
Message from Deadman_working: That’s not it. It’s just...
SKELTON: ?
Message from Deadman_working: I want to be the last human left, as quickly as possible.
“······.”
As much as I hated to admit it, we shared a similar dream.
Deadman Working continued speaking.
Message from Deadman_working: Imagine it, Skelton. The day when every last human is gone, when mankind is extinct.
Message from Deadman_working: Whether it takes ten million years or hundreds of millions, eventually, something like us will emerge again. Maybe our distant relatives. Maybe visitors from another world.
Message from Deadman_working: And when ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) that time comes, they will hear it. The highly digitized message, carried by Earth’s magnetic field for eons.
Message from Deadman_working: That is Necropolis.
Message from Deadman_working: In the city of the dead, there is no good or evil. No order to the dead. None of it matters.
Message from Deadman_working: What do you think, Skelton?
Despite our similarities, we could never mix.
All I could sense in his words was a denial of humanity, a delusion bordering on self-indulgent nihilism.
Ding—
[New message received.]
Once upon a time, I had similar thoughts.
That’s how I knew.
Deadman Working was, without a doubt, a very lonely person.
Message from COOKIEMONSTER18: I want something juicy.
A faint smile crept onto my lips.
And I responded.
SKELTON: (Skelton bewildered) ?
