The chamber shook with the weight of the fight, every blow Lin traded with the clone echoing off the steel and stone walls like thunder. Dust rained from the ceiling, tiny pebbles scattering across the cracked floor as the monstrous imitation of him lunged forward, its movements jerky, but frighteningly fast.

The clone's face — a twisted mirror of Lin's — contorted with something caught between rage and despair. Its eyes glowed faintly in the gloom, feral and wrong, yet every so often a flicker of recognition would cross its features, as if the thing remembered who it was supposed to be.

Lin's breathing was ragged, sweat dripping into his eyes. His ribs burned where the clone's fist had connected earlier, and his left arm ached from blocking one of its heavy strikes. Still, he refused to back down.

Keller shouted from the edge of the chamber, firing another burst of rounds into the clone's torso. The bullets tore flesh but the thing didn't falter — it simply turned, growled, and refocused on Lin, like Keller's interference was nothing more than a mosquito buzzing nearby.

"Damn thing doesn't even bleed right," Keller muttered, reloading quickly. His face was pale, tight with nerves, but he didn't dare step closer. He knew this wasn't his fight.

Min-joon stood frozen at the far end, eyes wide, trembling. His lips moved soundlessly as though he were whispering a prayer, or maybe repeating Jin's name in fear.

The clone lunged again. Lin dodged sideways, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow that would've shattered his skull. He countered with a swift strike to the creature's throat, then twisted his body, driving his knee up into its ribs. The impact was solid — he felt bone shift beneath his strike — but the clone only staggered for a moment before retaliating with a vicious backhand.

Lin barely raised his arms in time. The force flung him across the chamber. He hit the ground hard, his breath driven from his lungs.

"Lin!" Min-joon screamed, but Lin was already rolling back to his feet, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side. He couldn't falter now. Not here. Not against this.

The clone snarled, its mouth opening unnaturally wide, revealing jagged teeth that no human should have. Blood — dark, almost tar-like — oozed from the corner of its lips. The abomination shuddered, spasmed, then charged again.

This time Lin didn't dodge.

He stepped into the attack, parrying the creature's claw-like hand aside, then drove his elbow up under its chin. The blow snapped its head back with a sickening crack. For the first time, the clone staggered visibly, swaying like it had lost balance.

Lin pressed the advantage. He moved with precision, every strike fueled not just by survival, but by defiance. He struck the ribs, the throat, the knees — targeting the places he knew would cripple a man. And yet, every time the clone fell, it rose again, more determined, its twisted face grimacing in something that looked like pain but sounded like Jin's voice when it screamed.

"Y̶̯͔͔o̵̜͉̥u̸̹͔̮ ̵͓̩a̸̞͈͖r̶̮̲̠e̸̪̳͚ ̴͇̤m̸̼̙͍i̵̮̙n̸̺͎͇e̴̠̲̦,̵̯͙̻ ̷̰͎L̴̙͍͈i̶̟n̵̞̻͓…"

The words tore out of its mouth, warped and broken, but Lin froze for the barest fraction of a second. Hearing his own name in that distorted, half-familiar voice clawed at his chest.

The clone lunged in that hesitation, its hand wrapping around Lin's throat. The pressure was crushing, his airway closing fast.

Lin clawed at the creature's arm, twisting, pulling, but its grip was like iron. His vision darkened at the edges.

"Lin!" Keller yelled, firing another burst. The bullets struck the clone's shoulder, forcing it to stumble, but it didn't release its grip.

Min-joon rushed forward this time, grabbing a length of broken pipe from the floor. He swung wildly, slamming it into the clone's back. The creature let out a guttural roar, dropping Lin as it spun, claws swiping at Min-joon.

Lin gasped, dropping to one knee, coughing violently. His lungs screamed for air, but his mind was clear now.

This wasn't just a fight for survival.

This was Jin's final cruelty — a reminder of what Lin could've become if he had surrendered. A living shadow, enslaved and twisted.

And the only way to break that shadow… was to destroy it completely.

Lin forced himself to his feet. His body protested, but his will was iron.

The clone had cornered Min-joon now, snarling as it raised its clawed hand to tear him apart. Keller shouted, sprinting closer, but Lin's voice cut across the chamber like a blade.

"Hey!"

The clone turned.

Lin was already moving. He surged forward with everything he had left, ducking under the clone's swing, slamming his shoulder into its chest. Both of them crashed to the ground, grappling viciously.

The clone snarled, its claws raking Lin's arm, but Lin didn't flinch. He pinned the creature down with sheer willpower, ignoring the pain as blood seeped from his wounds. His knee pressed into its chest, his forearm driving into its throat.

Their eyes locked.

For a split second, Lin saw himself staring back — broken, hollow, a puppet carved in Jin's image.

"No," Lin whispered, his voice low but firm. "I am not you. I am not his."

He drew his knife in a single, swift motion.

The clone roared, thrashing violently, but Lin plunged the blade deep into its chest. The scream that followed wasn't human — it was Jin's laugh, Jin's voice, Jin's mockery bleeding out through the monster's throat.

Lin gritted his teeth, twisting the blade deeper. "You are nothing but his mistake."

With a final thrust, he dragged the blade upward, tearing through muscle, bone, and whatever nightmare construction had been forced into this creature's body.

The clone convulsed, its arms flailing wildly before falling limp. Its glowing eyes dimmed, fading into lifelessness.

Silence fell.

Lin stayed there a moment longer, his chest heaving, his hand still gripping the knife buried in the clone's chest. He could feel his pulse pounding, the weight of what he had done settling into him.

Then Keller was there, pulling him back. "Lin—let it go. It's over. It's dead."

Lin didn't answer. He wrenched the blade free, rising to his feet slowly. His clothes were soaked with blood — his own and the clone's — but his gaze was steady.

Min-joon had collapsed against the wall, shaking, tears streaming down his face. He couldn't even look at the corpse.

Keller studied Lin quietly, something unreadable in his expression. Respect, maybe. Or fear.

The clone lay still, twisted and broken, its resemblance to Lin fading with death.

Lin finally spoke, his voice flat, cold. "Jin will pay for this."

The chamber rumbled faintly beneath their feet, as if the facility itself was reacting to the death of the experiment. Somewhere deep below, machinery stirred awake.

Keller swore under his breath. "You hear that? Killing this thing just woke up the whole damn place."

Lin tightened his grip on the bloodied knife, his jaw set.

"Then we move," he said. "Now. Before the real trap closes."

And with that, the three of them turned away from the corpse, heading deeper into the dark passages, unaware of the storm they had just unleashed.