My Auto Cloning System

Episode 62: Screams in Steel, Silence in Flesh

A soft chime echoed from the corner of the room, and Do-hyun's eyes shifted toward the cracked tablet screen. It wasn't a notification. Just the system passively syncing. He sighed. No system messages had popped up about the sword, which meant either it didn't register as an equippable item, or the system itself wanted nothing to do with it.

In the background, the only consistent thing was the steady pulse of numbers. The regeneration percentage on his system panel kept creeping higher, ticking up in slow intervals as his clones rested. The Fishman's wounds had been brutal. Number 2, in particular, had taken enough damage to trigger a separate recovery cycles, even in his dormant state. Do-hyun didn't know if the system treated clone health like his own, but judging by the slow but consistent climb in his physical stats, the feedback loop was working just fine.

He got up and stretched, his joints cracking slightly, and glanced toward the dim hallway. One clone was asleep in his bed. Another was soaking in cold water. Number 3, bandaged like a factory reject, had now sprawled sideways on the couch, the cereal box cradled like a teddy bear.

Do-hyun felt a sudden wave of exhaustion. Not the physical kind he was used to that but the mental drag that came from constantly calculating the risks of every step. The last few days had been nonstop chaos, and he hadn't had a real break. But even if he wanted to collapse, there was no time.

He activated his internal interface and set the routine. Triple meditation. The clones would sync with him. All three of them. No movement. No talking. Just silent mental focus. He took his seat again, this time on a small mat beside the low table. The sword was left where it was. Number 2 remained nearby but stayed standing, eyes half-lidded. A few meters away, Number 1 adjusted his sitting posture.

Do-hyun closed his eyes.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

The mental space opened like a dimly lit chamber. This wasn't some flashy magical realm it was just a concentration technique. But when all three clones participated, it became a deep synchronization matrix. He could feel their presence, like flickers of light in the fog.

Meditation wasn't just for relaxation. It accelerated internal mana flow, boosted passive regen, and helped stabilize clone feedback. If there was anything cursed in their system, meditation could surface it or at least contain it.

Time passed without words.

By the time Do-hyun's eyes opened again, the light outside had begun to shift. Dawn hadn't broken, but the bluish gray that preceded it had settled into the sky like a soft blanket. He blinked, rubbed at his eyes, and stood slowly.

The system pinged softly. Minor stat increases across the board. Nothing dramatic, but noticeable. More importantly, everything felt… smoother. His own thoughts, his posture, even the rhythm of his breathing. Meditation with clones wasn't just a gimmick. It was a core part of his long-term growth strategy. The ability to multiply his internal practice threefold, without burnout, was something no normal hunter could replicate.

Still, the clone's silence during the sword link lingered in his mind. Number 2 hadn't seemed afraid. In fact, if anything, he looked amused.

Do-hyun sighed and turned toward the kitchen. He needed coffee. Real food too. But the clock on the wall interrupted him. The red digits blinked with quiet indifference.

07:32 AM.

A familiar chill ran down his back.

School.

"Ah, right," he muttered. "Break's over."

It wasn't that he had forgotten just that school now felt like another planet. Being surrounded by classmates who still argued over grades, rumors, and cafeteria food felt distant. He'd seen a Fishman drive a sword through someone's chest just days ago. His hands still remembered the texture of sewer moss and blood. His shoulders still ached from throwing himself into battle. School felt like a role he was pretending to play.

He stepped into his bedroom and changed clothes, tugging his uniform shirt into place. It felt tighter than before. Not because he had grown taller, but because his shoulders and arms had thickened. The mirror didn't lie. He wasn't the same.

The hallway outside his apartment was still quiet. A few distant voices drifted in through the stairwell. Morning news. Someone arguing over groceries. Nothing unusual. Just ordinary human sounds.

As he locked his door and began walking toward the station, bag slung over his shoulder, he felt the familiar weight return.

Not the bag.

The quiet.

That silence wasn't new. He'd felt it every time he walked these halls. Even before his awakening. Even before the clone system. School had always been… something else. A place where he walked alone, spoke rarely, and watched others from a distance.

The sound of his shoes echoed faintly. The building's lights flickered above. He exhaled and kept moving.

He had fought a monster in a sewer. He had broken bones. He had killed. And now, he was heading back to class, like nothing had changed.

Only everything had.

It didn't hit him at first. Walking through the wide tiled halls of campus, past bulletin boards plastered with club flyers and internship posters, Kim Do-hyun expected someone to stop him. A professor, maybe. Or one of the seniors who used to complain about his attendance. Even a security guard asking if he had the right ID. But no one said anything. Just students, backpacks slung over shoulders, heads buried in phones or chattering in tight groups, flowing around him like a river that didn't care he existed.

His footsteps echoed faintly against the polished floor, even though the hallway was packed. All the movement around him didn't register. Not because he was nervous. Not even because he felt out of place. He'd been here before. Dozens of times, actually. This building. These lockers. That vending machine that never worked properly. And yet, today, for some reason, everything felt slightly off as if the whole campus was reacting to him in a way it hadn't before.

He adjusted his backpack over one shoulder and kept walking toward lecture room B-17.

For a guy who'd fought monsters underground, gotten stabbed by mimic weapons, and survived curse-grade artifacts screaming into his skull, returning to college felt like the most surreal part of the week.

The classroom door was already open when he reached it. The room beyond buzzed with low chatter and the screech of metal chair legs sliding across tile. He stepped inside, scanning the rows instinctively. No familiar faces. Not until he spotted someone near the back, hunched over, elbows on the desk, staring at the window as if contemplating whether to jump out or just take a nap.

Nam Tae-joon.

Even with his broad shoulders and neck thicker than a tree trunk, the guy hadn't changed a bit. Do-hyun smirked slightly and walked over, dropping his bag onto the chair beside him.

"Yo. Didn't know we were in the same class," he said casually, letting his body fall into the chair with the tired grace of someone who hadn't slept properly in three days.

Tae-joon turned his head slowly, blinking twice as if processing the sound before recognizing the face attached to it. His eyebrows rose instantly.

"…Wait. What?" Tae-joon leaned forward and stared at him properly, like someone squinting at an optical illusion. "Kim Do-hyun? What the hell, man. What happened to you? Did you get possessed by a gym ghost or something?"

Do-hyun raised an eyebrow. "It's really not that different."

"You're joking. Not that different? Bro, you're basically a different species now."

Before he could reply, a sudden burst of whispers rippled from the front of the classroom. The kind of buzz that spreads when someone famous walks in. Except no one had entered. It took Do-hyun a moment to realize all eyes were slowly shifting toward him.

A group of girls sitting two rows ahead had stopped talking. One of them leaned in and cupped her hand to the side of her mouth, her voice not nearly as subtle as she thought it was.

"Wait… is that… Kim Do-hyun?"

"No way. That can't be him, right?"

"I swear, he used to be, like, three times bigger than that."

"His skin's clear now. Is he wearing lenses?"

"Shut up. He looks like a low-budget idol."

"Low-budget my ass. I'd pay to sit next to him."

Do-hyun froze. Not in fear, exactly. Just a kind of social paralysis that came from suddenly realizing you were the subject of too many unfiltered opinions.

He turned slowly back to Tae-joon, who now had the biggest grin on his face. The grin of a man who'd just witnessed divine comedy unfold in real life.

"Bro. You're trending," Tae-joon said, holding back laughter. "You used to be invisible. Now you're a walking fantasy."

Do-hyun exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't get it. I didn't change that much, did I?"

Tae-joon let out a single loud snort. "You didn't change, huh? Sure. And I didn't almost fail freshman year because of protein powder-induced insomnia."