CHAPTER 51: EPISODE 51 – THE CREATURE IN THE FOG

EPISODE 51 – THE CREATURE IN THE FOG

The first thing that registered was the smell.

It wasn’t the kind of stench that made you gag immediately. No, this was more sinister. It crept in slowly—wet, coppery, like rotting seaweed soaked in blood. It lingered in the nose and clung to the throat like a film of mold, refusing to be exhaled. Even the thick respirator mask the man wore barely filtered it.

He ran anyway.

Boots slapped across stone, splashing through ankle-deep puddles that had collected in the uneven crevices of the cave floor. His pulse pounded in his ears, nearly deafening him to the chorus of inhuman sounds behind him. Echoes bounced back at him from every direction, disorienting his sense of distance. The cold air bit into his lungs like knives with every breath he took.

But it wasn’t the pain or exhaustion that made his face twist in horror.

It was the silence.

Because even as he ran for his life through the dimly lit tunnel of the alien fish cave, even as his severed arm bled down his side and left a trail like breadcrumbs, there was no sound of pursuit. No slithering. No hissing. No footsteps.

Nothing.

And that terrified him more than anything.

"It shouldn’t be here," he muttered, his voice barely above a ragged whisper. "This is a Rank F zone... It shouldn’t... this thing... that’s not a fish!"

He tripped on a loose stone, collapsing onto his hands and knees. The sharp jolt of pain from his missing arm forced a scream through clenched teeth, but he didn’t stop. He pushed himself forward, crawling through a tight passage just wide enough to squeeze through sideways. His blood left bright red streaks on the moss-covered walls.

The cave’s bioluminescent glow was dimmer here. The algae clinging to the ceiling pulsed gently, like the heartbeat of a sleeping animal. His shadow stretched ahead of him, warped and twitching, as he dragged himself into a slightly wider chamber.

For a moment, he thought he’d made it.

He slumped against the stone wall, gasping. There were bones here—dozens of them. Some human, some not. All of them stripped clean.

And in the scratched, warped surface of his steel wrist bracer, he saw it.

Reflected in the metal was a figure—no, a shape. It loomed at the far end of the tunnel he’d just come from. It didn’t walk. It glided.

Its skin shimmered with a translucent green sheen, like slime-coated glass. Long, curved fangs protruded from a mouth that opened far too wide to be natural. The eyes were lidless, bulbous, and entirely black. Its chest rose and fell like it was breathing, though the motion was oddly mechanical—like a machine simulating life.

The man opened his mouth to scream.

The thing surged forward.

And within a heartbeat, his body was pinned to the floor by massive claws. There was no dramatic struggle. No final words.

Just the wet crunch of bones breaking... and silence once more.

Somewhere across the city, a black sedan hummed along the outer edge of a restricted field zone. Han Jin-woo, dressed in a windbreaker and tactical boots, glanced sideways at his last passenger through the rearview mirror. Number 3 sat upright, motionless, like a soldier awaiting orders.

"You good?" Han asked without turning his head.

The clone gave a single nod. "All set."

Han chuckled. "You guys really creep me out sometimes. You know that?"

The clone didn’t respond. Instead, he stepped out of the car as soon as it came to a full stop, shutting the door behind him with clinical precision. The checkpoint loomed ahead—a set of reinforced barriers flanked by a duo of bored-looking Hunter Association staffers holding biometric scanners.

"Try not to scare them too hard," Han muttered as he watched the clone walk off.

Pulling out his phone, he fired off a quick message.

[All three clones dropped off. Your little squad’s in action.]

He stared at the message for a second, then exhaled through his nose with a crooked grin. "Seriously... three fully operational bodies running dungeons while the real guy sits at home. If anyone higher up finds out, the whole guild system’s gonna flip. This ability is ridiculous."

Back at the modest apartment in a quieter district of Seoul, Kim Do-hyun was stretched out on the wooden floor, staring at the flickering light above the ceiling fan.

He had every right to feel smug.

It wasn’t just that his plan was working. It was the sheer efficiency of it that left him borderline giddy. His clones were out there doing the hard work, collecting experience, training, adapting, and farming skill feedback... all while he stayed in his pajamas and drank room-temperature barley tea.

He tapped the side of his neck, bringing up the system interface. A translucent menu popped up in his vision.

[Skill Acquired: Meditation (Passive)]

Slightly stabilizes mental fatigue

Improves mana circulation

Increases mana regeneration rate

Boosts effect of breath-based techniques

He stared at the screen.

Then narrowed his eyes.

"...Wait a minute."

He swiped down. Re-read it.

"Don’t tell me this is just... meditation. I didn’t unlock Mana Breathing?"

He sat upright, dragging a hand down his face.

"I’ve been cross-legged for hours. I did the breathing. I visualized the energy. I even skipped lunch, dammit. What do you mean it’s just meditation? This isn’t even a real combat technique!"

A system tooltip blinked beside the skill name.

[Note: This skill may evolve if used continuously under mana-sensitive conditions.]

Do-hyun clicked his tongue.

"Well... at least it’s a start. Maybe if I focus hard enough, I’ll accidentally cough up fireballs next week."

Just then, his phone buzzed with Han Jin-woo’s message confirming clone deployment. Do-hyun smiled and stood up.

"Alright. Let’s see what my babies are up to."

He pulled the blinds shut, dimmed the lights, and sat down on a meditation mat he’d bought for 4,000 won at a discount store. His posture shifted automatically—spine straight, hands resting on his knees, palms up. This time, though, he wasn’t aiming for enlightenment.

He was activating a skill.

"Familiar Link. Number 1," he whispered.

A ripple of mana surged from his chest like a warm wave. It rushed through his limbs, gathering at the base of his skull before projecting outward like a thread of light stretching across dimensions. The system flickered in his mind’s eye.

[FAMILIAR MODE: Activated]

[Warning: Shared Consciousness will consume 3 MP/sec. Do not exceed mental strain threshold.]

The apartment disappeared.

Suddenly, Do-hyun found himself inside a different body. A familiar one.

Number 1’s vision opened before him like a first-person video game. The environment was stark and rocky. Broken concrete structures stood half-submerged in murky puddles. Rotten trees leaned like crooked sentries in the distance. The sky above this isolated field was covered in artificial cloud panels—designed to simulate natural overcast light for safety monitoring.

This was one of the converted rift fields—an abandoned apartment complex-turned-dungeon simulation, now repurposed into a Rank F training zone.

And at the moment, Number 1 was sprinting forward with fluid, calculated footwork. His body moved with mechanical precision, ducking low as a grotesque rodent-shaped monster the size of a small motorcycle leapt out from behind a shattered vending machine.

The rat was monstrous—its skin patchy and ulcered, its fangs thick enough to punch through car doors.

But the clone didn’t hesitate.

As the beast lunged, Number 1 twisted his body, angled his hips, and countered with a low, driving stab aimed right at the creature’s exposed belly.

Schlick!

The blade dug in deep. Warm blood sprayed across his uniform, but he held the grip steady, pushing in deeper until the beast collapsed with a gurgling squeal.

From within the consciousness, Do-hyun flinched—not from fear, but from how real it felt.

The stench. The tactile sensation of pushing against muscle and bone. The exact pressure in his arms as the clone followed through with the kill.

Everything was identical to real life.

"...Damn," he whispered. "So this is what they feel."

Number 1 wiped his blade on the rat’s fur and moved on without a word.

And Do-hyun realized something important:

📜 AUTHOR’S NOTE – Written by LYTA Clone 4 🪓 (Currently Locked in the Bathroom by Number 5)

HELLO FROM THE OTHER SIIIIIIIIIDE.

No seriously, I’m trapped in here. Number 5 said I used all the shampoo and now he’s holding the door shut with a mop handle. Send help. Or cookies. Or both.

Anyway, while I figure out how to escape through the ventilation fan, here’s what YOU can do to help our boy Do-hyun keep evolving into the ultimate Clone Commander™:

✅ SMASH that LIKE — it literally fuels my rage and the algorithm

✅ COMMENT — yell, cry, overanalyze, or just drop emojis. I read ’em all

✅ GIFT something — coins, powerstones, leftover pizza, we’ll take it

✅ GOLDEN TICKETS — monthly resets mean free votes. Use ’em!

✅ UNLOCK Chapters with PRIVILEGE — flex on your fellow readers like Number 1 flexes on mutant rats

✅ SHARE this novel — spread it faster than dungeon mist

✅ WRITE a review — even a single "This slaps" makes LYTA dance

✅ SUGGEST ideas — new monsters, powers, or clone hobbies. Bring the chaos.

I’ll see you next Chapter... if I survive Number 5’s shampoo crusade.

– LYTA Clone 4

(Current status: Damp, betrayed, but still typing under a sink)