CHAPTER 45: EPISODE 45 – BURN, BREAK, SURVIVE

Episode 45 – Burn, Break, Survive

Kim Do-hyun (김도현) stood his ground, his knees slightly bent, posture low, body angled sideways to reduce his exposed area. His muscles were tensed, not in fear but in readiness. His lungs pulled in tight, steady breaths as he tracked every movement in front of him. Oh Min-joo (오민주) stood behind him, her hands trembling, face pale with a cocktail of fear and adrenaline swirling behind her eyes. But despite her visible anxiety, she bit down on her bottom lip, drawing a tiny drop of blood, and made her decision.

With a sharp inhale and a flick of her wrist, she conjured another radiant sphere of flame into her palm. This time, the glowing orb pulsed with a concentrated, unstable intensity — like a miniature sun packed tight with fury. She shouted, voice cracking but fierce, "Step back, or I swear I’ll burn straight through you!"

She didn’t wait for them to laugh again.

The sphere shot forward like a missile, trailing wisps of gold and orange, and collided directly into the gut of the chubby brute leading the gang. His eyes widened as he instinctively clenched his stomach, but there was no time to react further.

An explosion bloomed. The fiery impact burst with a thunderous crack, shaking nearby windows and sending ash and heat waves in all directions. For a moment, the alley was filled with smoke and dust. Sparks floated in the air like fireflies caught in a storm. The ground trembled under their feet. The flash lit up their shocked faces.

Kim Do-hyun blinked rapidly, blinking the sudden light out of his eyes, arm raised to shield Min-joo. "Did she just... blow him up?" he muttered, eyes searching the smoke.

Min-joo, her knees buckling slightly, whispered, "I didn’t think it would be that strong..."

But just when they thought it was over, a dark silhouette emerged from the smoke. Slow, deliberate, heavy footsteps echoed down the street. The dust finally cleared enough to reveal the man’s form.

Not only was he alive, but he looked barely hurt.

His shirt was shredded, hanging from his shoulders like burned paper, exposing a torso lined with thick muscle and patches of hardened, stone-like skin that shimmered faintly under the moonlight — a passive defensive skill, an awakened talent that mimicked armor. The area around his midsection still smoked, the cloth charred black, but not a single bruise was visible beneath.

"Man..." the chubby man muttered, brushing ash off his forearm. "You kids are annoying. You act like being awakened is special or something."

Kim Do-hyun’s heart sank. That had been Min-joo’s strongest attack. The sheer power behind it had caught even him off guard. But this guy — this monster — had just taken it like someone stepping into a warm breeze.

The man continued casually, lifting his hand as if swatting away a fly. "Nowadays, even convenience store clerks awaken. So what? Grow up, girl."

That was when his hand flew forward, aiming a heavy open-palm slap toward Min-joo’s face.

Do-hyun reacted instantly.

He threw himself sideways, stepping into the blow’s path. The slap connected not with Min-joo, but with the side of Do-hyun’s head. The impact rang in his ears like a gong. His neck twisted violently to the side, and for a split second, he lost balance. But he stayed standing. His boots slid across the ground, absorbing the momentum.

He turned back with a wild glare in his eye, wiping a thin stream of blood from his lip with the back of his hand. "Big mistake," he growled.

The gang leader raised a brow. "What?"

Do-hyun’s fist flew forward, fast and clean, a textbook right hook — straight from Number Two’s muscle memory.

There was a subtle twist to the punch, not just in the arm, but from the hips and even the ankle. It was the kind of form only someone who had absorbed dozens of hours of clone training would possess. The punch connected right under the guy’s chin. The sheer force behind it made a short, sharp gust of wind burst from the contact point.

The fat man’s head snapped back. His body rocked. For a moment, the guy was stunned. Even the other thugs paused, their cocky sneers dropping off their faces.

Min-joo gasped quietly. Her eyes sparkled, not just in shock, but admiration. "That was... amazing."

But the leader recovered fast, growling like a bear. Smoke still trailed from his shirt, and that punch — though clearly solid — hadn’t knocked him out.

Before Do-hyun could follow up, he heard quick, pounding footsteps behind him. It was the tall one, the guy who looked like a damn Tarzan cosplayer — ripped torso, wild hair, and animalistic energy. The guy didn’t even yell as he charged, he just launched his whole body like a projectile.

Do-hyun barely had time to square his feet before the guy was on him.

Instinct screamed, but his clone-enhanced training took over. He dipped under the initial punch, letting the attack graze the air above his shoulder. But Tarzan’s second punch came from below, an uppercut aimed at his ribs. Do-hyun winced as the fist slammed into his side. It felt like a sledgehammer had hit his lungs. He grunted sharply, biting his tongue to keep from crying out.

Pain flared through his torso, but he returned fire — another blow to the temple, a swift elbow to the chin.

He ducked, rolled under a wild swing, then stepped back in, driving a knee into the thug’s stomach.

The fight turned chaotic.

There was no more back and forth, no flashy powers. Just raw fists, elbows, knees, and blood.

Do-hyun and Tarzan exchanged punches like madmen.

One to the jaw. One to the eye.

A low kick swept Do-hyun’s ankle, nearly toppling him, but he rebounded with a double palm strike to the chest. He took another hit to the shoulder. His vision blurred. A punch landed against his collarbone with a dull crack. He saw stars. Still, he punched back. Again and again.

Tarzan stumbled. His breathing was ragged, his face bloodied. Do-hyun had a black eye now and his knuckles were scraped raw. But he wasn’t done.

A final punch — a brutal left hook — landed square on Tarzan’s nose.

The man dropped like a sack of bricks.

Panting, hunched over, hands on his thighs, Kim Do-hyun looked up — just in time to see the gang leader walking toward him again. The guy’s heavy boots scraped the pavement. His eyes weren’t angry anymore. They were intrigued.

"You can actually fight," the man said calmly. "That was unexpected."

He spread his arms out to the side slightly. His shirt, already torn by the earlier explosion, hung open completely now. His torso looked like it belonged to a stone statue — muscled, layered in hardened skin, etched with scars. His expression wasn’t smug anymore. Just serious.

"I held back," the guy said. "Because I thought you were just some weakling with a mouth. But you’ve got grit, kid. I respect that."

Do-hyun slowly straightened, blood dripping from his jawline. "I’m not the kind of guy you should underestimate."

The leader grinned. "Good. Then I won’t hold back anymore."

The air grew heavier.

Do-hyun’s eyes flicked left and right. He was hoping to buy more time. Just a few more seconds. He needed Number One. He needed Number Two. The clones were coming — but they weren’t here yet.

Inside his mind, he activated the deeper layers of clone connection, not just the memory stream he usually accessed, but everything Number Two had ever done. Every dodge, every feint, every tactic. He absorbed them all.

His focus locked in on the man’s shoulders.

Reading the subtle movements, the slight tensing of the bicep, the slight twist in the foot.

He would not be caught off guard again.

To Be Continued....

---

📜 AUTHOR’S NOTE – Written by LYTA Clone 11 🍳 (Currently Arguing With a Toaster)

Hey heyyy it’s your unhinged but loveable LYTA Clone Eleven, live from the kitchen where I’ve somehow just lost a heated argument with a toaster. It burned my third slice of bread and then ejected it across the counter like it was offended by me. So now I’m sulking with a piece of half-burnt toast and watching reruns of Do-hyun punching people with clone memories. Good times.

Meanwhile, the real LYTA is probably doing something equally random — maybe trying to balance power stones on a sleeping cat or plotting how to make Min-joo summon a mini supernova next time. Who knows?

Anyway, let’s get serious for a second. You’ve made it this far, and honestly, that already means the world. But if you’re loving the story, the worldbuilding, the characters, or just want to help Do-hyun not get punched in the ribs again — then here’s how you can keep this novel thriving:

✅ Smash that LIKE button

✅ Leave a COMMENT — scream, cry, roast Carvo, I read everything

✅ Toss a GIFT — even small ones help keep the clone army fed

✅ Use your GOLDEN TICKETS — you get them every month, why not use one on your favorite fighter?

✅ UNLOCK with Privilege — get ahead and flex on your fellow readers

✅ SHARE this novel with your squad, your guild, your cat

✅ Write a REVIEW — even one sentence makes a big difference

✅ Drop any SUGGESTIONS — I take them seriously!

✅ Join my Discord and come yell at me directly: @lyta17

And fun fact for the road: when I mention WN Agency, I’m talking about the NovelBin Agency — the big boss platform where our main character’s manager, the ever-suspicious Han Jin-woo, operates behind the scenes, making contracts and possibly stealing snacks from the breakroom fridge. This is the real-deal pro scene, folks!

Every little click you make helps keep the world of Do-hyun alive. So don’t be shy.

See you in the next round — unless this toaster launches another slice at me. 😤

– LYTA Clone 11

(Burnt, betrayed, but still begging for your votes.)