My Auto Cloning System

Episode 63: The Prophecy and the Power Game

One of the girls sitting up front turned around again. She leaned in and whispered something to her friend, who immediately looked back. Her eyes met Do-hyun's for the briefest of momentsjust a flicker of eye contact before both girls giggled, trying to hide their smiles as they quickly turned away.

Do-hyun slid a little lower in his seat, doing his best to seem invisible.

Beside him, Tae-joon nudged him in the ribs with his elbow.

"Bro, you need to go home and see your parents," he said with a grin. "I bet your mom wouldn't even recognize you. Might even throw holy water on you just to be safe."

Do-hyun gave a faint smile but kept his voice low. "Honestly? I haven't seen them in a while. Not since all this started."

Tae-joon's grin faded a little, surprise softening his features. "Wait. Seriously?"

Do-hyun nodded, the movement small but noticeable. "Yeah. Things have been... busy."

"Then all the more reason to go," Tae-joon said, leaning back in his chair. "You owe them a heart attack, at least."

Do-hyun rolled his eyes, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. It was ridiculous, really—he hadn't come back to campus looking for compliments or attention. But something about Tae-joon's teasing felt comforting. Familiar. Like nothing had changed between them. No tension, no awkwardness. Just two guys who'd weathered high school together, now trying to make it through another boring lecture without losing their minds.

Tae-joon sat up straighter, his tone suddenly lighter.

"Anyway," he said, brushing invisible dust off his jeans, "we're celebrating tonight."

Do-hyun blinked. "Celebrating what, exactly?"

"You heard me. Drinks, fried chicken, a few of the old crew. You remember Ji-hye? She's back transferred from Busan."

Do-hyun raised an eyebrow. "Semester hasn't even started yet and you're already lining up parties?"

Tae-joon shrugged, unfazed. "You only live once, man. And now that you're rocking the whole 'hot and mysterious' look, we're finally gonna put that to good use. You're our secret weapon."

Do-hyun let out a short laugh. "Glad to know I'm bait now."

"That's the spirit," Tae-joon said, grinning. He leaned in a little, dropping his voice just enough to sound like he was sharing a secret. "Come on. You, me, a few of the boys, some girls, maybe hit karaoke after. Just like the old days."

Do-hyun hesitated. It would have been easy to say yes. Too easy. A few weeks ago, he probably would've jumped at the offer. An evening out with friends, good food, loud laughter, girls who actually looked at him now. It all sounded simple. Normal. A break from everything he'd been dealing with no cursed swords, no monsters, no screaming nightmares tucked away in the corners of his mind.

But instead of saying yes, he shook his head.

"Can't," he said, the word coming out more gently than he meant it to. "Already have plans."

Tae-joon blinked like he hadn't heard him right. "Wait, what? You're serious?"

Do-hyun nodded. "Yeah. I promised someone I'd take them to dinner."

Tae-joon stared at him for a beat, his expression stuck somewhere between betrayal and disbelief. "You're turning down fried chicken and karaoke... for a date?"

Do-hyun scratched his cheek, looking a little sheepish. "It's not really a date."

"Doesn't matter. You don't skip chicken unless it's something serious. Who is it?"

Do-hyun leaned back in his chair and glanced up at the ceiling, his expression softening as a faint smile crossed his lips.

"Oh Min-joo," he said quietly. "I promised her."

Tae-joon let out a dramatic gasp and pointed a finger at him like he'd just uncovered a plot twist. "Min-joo? The tutoring girl?"

Do-hyun nodded, still not meeting his eyes.

Tae-joon blinked a couple of times. Then, slowly, he sat back, arms crossed, letting out a low whistle.

"Well damn," he said, sounding genuinely impressed now. "Didn't think you had it in you."

Do-hyun didn't respond. He didn't really need to. The moment already felt like it was balancing on a thread, fragile and strange, as if acknowledging it too much would break the spell.

Across the lecture hall, another group of students filtered in, noisy and carefree. The professor's voice echoed from the hallway, calling for everyone to settle down and take their seats. The usual buzz of campus life slowly returned to the room, like someone pressing play after a brief pause.

But for Kim Do-hyun, this wasn't just another day back in class.

He wasn't the same guy who used to sit quietly in the back, praying no one would look his way.

Not anymore.

And judging by the glances he'd been getting since he walked in, the world was finally starting to take notice.

---

Inside the towering conference chamber of the World Hunter Association's international headquarters, an unsettling tension brewed beneath the surface of silence. Known globally by its simple acronym, WHA, the organization was more than just a political body. It was a fortress of diplomacy and brute force combined, responsible for managing the balance of hunter activity across every continent. Its emblem, a sword raised behind a globe, gleamed under the lights mounted in the glass dome above the main table. That table, made of black-tinted alloy mined from the remains of a D-ranked dungeon boss, sat in the center of the room like an altar.

Today, it was surrounded by the strongest hunters the world had to offer. Each chair was occupied by someone whose power could shift the tide of a war or destroy a city by accident.

At the head of the table sat President Michael Harris, a gray-haired man with the calm tone of a judge and the eyes of a battlefield general. His voice, although measured, carried the weight of absolute authority.

"Disaster," he repeated, his brows lowered just enough to suggest discomfort. "That is the word you used. I want details."

Across the table, a representative from the Oracle Division a secretive department comprised of clairvoyants and artifact-bound seers stood to speak. The man looked pale, either from stress or the magnitude of the message he was about to deliver.

"The prophecy was confirmed last night," he said, opening a digital file and placing it on the projection hub. "According to all three confirmed Oracles, a spatial rupture will occur. A portal will open, and it will not be a stable or naturally formed one. The size is unknown, but the number of monsters crossing through is expected to reach well into the hundreds."

Harris kept his fingers steepled. "Species classification?"

"At minimum, we are expecting C and B-grade threats," the Oracle man replied, his voice a bit drier now. "However, all three prophecies agree that A-rank monsters will also emerge. Perhaps even more than one."

A subtle shifting of posture rippled around the table. The very mention of A-ranks was enough to steal the breath of half the continent's lower guilds.

"Location?" Harris asked. His tone had not changed, but his voice lowered by a fraction.

The Oracle Division man hesitated, then replied. "South Korea. The disruption is predicted to begin within the next three to five weeks."

Harris nodded, his face unreadable. He tapped the surface of the table once and then shifted his attention.

Before the next question could be raised, the sound of footsteps echoed sharply across the hall. The grand doors opened with a loud click, revealing a suited man striding into the chamber. Just as he adjusted the strap on his briefcase, a blur of color entered his peripheral vision and then his entire world tilted sideways.

A loud cracking noise filled the air. The man in the suit stumbled backward, clutching his nose, which now had a faint trail of blood running from the nostril. The culprit stood with one hand still lowered from the headbutt. Her eyes sparkled with zero regret.

Miss Mio, guild master of the Yolo Guild, made her entrance with a smirk and her usual chaotic energy. Her hair was styled in what could only be described as controlled madness. Even in a formal setting like this, she wore a black leather jacket over a button-down blouse, paired with combat boots that still had dirt on them from some recent raid.

"Tae, I knew it was you. You grew that mustache just to mess with me, didn't you? Look at you, pretending to be all mature now. Honestly, it looks kinda hot."

The man she had just assaulted Tae, the infamous guild master of the third-ranked international guild l sighed and rubbed his forehead, muttering something under his breath that sounded like a prayer for patience.

They both entered the meeting room like it was a casual dinner party. Eyes followed them, some in disbelief, others in quiet amusement.

But the atmosphere changed again when Shin Hae-seong, the head of the Hae-seong Guild, leaned forward in his seat with a carefully constructed smirk.

"Oh, what a gathering," Shin murmured, not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice. "By the way, how did your team do at Odin's Tower? I heard no one came back. Or were your results just that disappointing?"

He didn't look at anyone in particular, but everyone at the table knew exactly whom he was targeting.

A man with white hair at the far end of the room stirred in his seat. His face twitched once, but he said nothing at first. Then he leaned slightly forward, the corners of his mouth tightening.

"This isn't the place," he said coldly. "Or the time."

Shin didn't reply, but his smirk lingered, like the residue of smoke in a room that once caught fire.

The tension peaked when the doors opened again. This time, no one made a sound.

An old man stepped inside, wearing a traditional hanbok folded neatly under a formal trench coat. His posture was slightly hunched, his pace slow, but his presence carried the weight of ten thousand hunts. Whispers stopped. Backs straightened. Even Miss Mio looked up from adjusting her collar.

That was no ordinary elder. That was the leader of the Korean Hunter Association, a man whose name rarely appeared in the press but whose influence shook governments. He walked toward his chair with the calm precision of someone who didn't need to prove anything to anyone.

The room adjusted itself around him.