The battle continued.
Three hours of relentless pressure.
Attack after attack.
Defense after defense.
No pauses. No mercy.
Then—everything changed.
Without warning, the organizers' main screen flickered.
A video feed appeared.
Everyone froze.
The control room fell into complete silence.
At the university, classrooms went quiet.
No whispers. No movement.
Even breathing felt loud.
On the screen, the feed showed Anonymous' operations room.
Fifteen people.
Panic had replaced discipline.
Some were shouting.
Others were frantically smashing keyboards, pulling cables, shutting down systems.
They had realized it.
Too late.
One by one, their monitors went black.
Connections dropped.
Signals vanished.
Presence erased.
Across the global network, status indicators changed.
Anonymous — Offline
Mr.Fool — Online
The organizers stared at the screen, stunned.
This wasn't a technical victory.
It was total domination.
A moment later, the system updated.
Final Winner: Mr.Fool
The name remained on the screen, steady and undeniable.
Back in a quiet rented house in Z City, PK leaned back in his chair.
No cheering.
No raised hands.
He picked up his cola and took a slow sip.
"…At last," he murmured.
He had won.
And the world had no idea who he really was.