My Auto Cloning System

Episode 75 – "The Kick That Split the Street"

The monster's shape was wrong. Not just ugly or oversized, but wrong in the way that made your stomach tighten and your ears buzz like static. It scuttled across the fractured pavement on too many legs to count at first glance, six or maybe eight, bending at unnatural joints that clicked like knives scraping against ceramic. The body was long and segmented like some overgrown insect, yet it burned with an inner glow, veins of orange light pulsing under the cracked chitin as if fireflies had been trapped inside its flesh and were screaming to get out. Every step it took left black scorch marks on the ground, mana searing into stone as though it was branding the street with its arrival.

Do-hyun barely had time to register the thing's advance before it lunged, the motion blurring past human limits. One second it was crouched on its many limbs, the next its bulk filled his vision. The creature's head was nothing more than a blunt protrusion with a split that opened like a vertical mouth, bristling with hooked mandibles slick with a mix of saliva and light. It came straight at his face, faster than any troll swing, faster than anything he had fought with Number 1 or Number 2 at his side.

The impact never landed.

Something else did.

A boot slammed through the air between them, cutting across his blurred vision like a streak of lightning. The sound that followed was brutal, a hollow crack followed by a deep, vibrating boom that rattled the windows of the half-collapsed buildings on both sides of the street. The monster's body didn't just stop — it was launched, thrown backward across the broken asphalt like a car smashed in a traffic collision. Dust sprayed up in clouds, debris rained down, and the monster tumbled until it rolled into a parked truck that had already been gutted by previous fighting, crushing what little was left of its frame.

Do-hyun's body, however, had reached its limit. His chest heaved with shallow gasps, sweat poured from his brow into his eyes, and his grip on the cursed blade faltered. The hum inside the weapon had grown loud, almost jubilant, as though it had been waiting for his collapse. The street spun around him. He tried to steady his weight, but his knees bent and his vision tunneled.

Strong arms caught him before he hit the ground.

"Got you," a voice said, steady, calm, and way too close to his ear.

Do-hyun blinked up, and through the haze he saw him — Han Sen.

The man wasn't glowing or posing like the posters of guild elites. He wore dark field gear scuffed from too many fights, his hair tied back in a way that looked careless but practical, and his eyes sharp enough to slice through panic. The boot that had landed the kick was still lowered to the ground, bits of monster slime sizzling off the sole. His jaw tightened, not in arrogance, but in focus, the kind of look from someone who had walked into this madness before and expected to do it again.

Do-hyun wanted to say something, maybe a joke to cut through the ringing in his ears, but the words wouldn't come. The strength drained out of him too quickly. His vision blurred and his head tilted, collapsing against Han Sen's chest as if his body had already decided for him.

Han Sen adjusted his grip without flinching, lifting Do-hyun like he weighed nothing. His eyes flicked toward the monster dragging itself out of the wrecked truck.

The creature screeched. It was high-pitched, metallic, and layered with some other vibration that made your teeth ache. Its mandibles snapped, and its legs clattered against the asphalt like a rain of hammers. Even smashed into a vehicle, it was already regenerating, the cracked plates of chitin knitting back together with threads of glowing energy.

Han Sen didn't waste time. He stepped forward, his muscles coiling, and launched himself into another strike. The flying kick he unleashed was not the flashy kind you saw in a tournament broadcast; it was pure combat economy, the hip twist sharp, the knee snapping upward, the entire force of his weight driving into his heel as it smashed into the monster's midsection. The ground itself cracked beneath the recoil. The Firefly-beast was blasted off its feet again, sparks of mana scattering into the air like someone had smashed a jar of fireflies and thrown them skyward.

The watching civilians, half-hidden in alleys and behind flipped cars, gasped in unison. Their whispers scattered like dust in the air.

"Was that a technique?"

"No, bro, that was raw… that was straight-up raw power."

"That guy… he's a hunter? Which guild is he from?"

Han Sen ignored all of them. His kick wasn't for show; it was to buy time. He landed lightly, bent his knees, and glanced back at Do-hyun slumped in his arms.

The smell hit him then — blood. Fresh and hot, soaking into fabric, carrying that metallic tang that burned in the nose. He frowned and shifted Do-hyun slightly, and that was when he saw it.

The arm.

Almost severed, the flesh torn so badly that it hung by ribbons of skin and shredded muscle, the bone exposed beneath. The cursed blade's influence pulsed in the wound too, mana spiraling in chaotic rhythm that made it impossible for the injury to clot. Every breath Do-hyun took was ragged, wet, like someone had poured gravel into his lungs.

Han Sen hissed under his breath. "Damn it, kid, you've been pushing way past the line."

Before he could move further, another presence broke into the chaos.

Boots scraped the stone. A female hunter emerged from the side street, younger than Han Sen, wearing armor that looked half-prototype — sleek plates over flexible mesh, glowing lines running along her sleeves. Her face was flushed from sprinting, her eyes wide as she scanned the scene. When she saw Do-hyun, her mouth twisted.

"Shibal…" (Damn it…) she muttered, then jogged closer.

Han Sen shifted slightly, not letting go of Do-hyun, but not stopping her either.

The girl crouched beside them, her gloves already flickering with mana. She pressed her hands near the wound and shook her head. "He's messed up. Way worse than I thought."

Han Sen's jaw set. "Give me the truth. How bad?"

She didn't sugarcoat it. Her voice cracked with urgency. "The arm is almost gone. If he moves wrong, it's coming off completely. His system's going wild, mana spiraling everywhere like he's about to pop. Look at his eyes… look."

Han Sen glanced down.

Do-hyun's eyes weren't calm anymore. They weren't even focused. They trembled with light, veins crawling black around the sockets, his pupils blown wide until they looked like broken glass reflecting fire. His teeth ground together, lips peeling back in something between a grin and a grimace.

The cursed blade in his limp grip vibrated, pulsing faster, syncing with his erratic heartbeat.

The girl's voice tightened. "He's slipping into berserk mode."

Han Sen's throat clenched. He'd seen it before. The spiral — the "Coringa style," some called it — where hunters who lost control of system energy became half-mad, tearing through friend and foe alike until they burned out their life or someone put them down.

The girl didn't waste another second. She drew in a deep breath, bit her lip, and activated her support skill. Blue-white mana flared in her palms, surging outward in a wave. She slammed her hands against Do-hyun's chest and shouted, "Mana transfer!"

The energy coursed into him, flooding his veins, washing over his shredded arm in streams of light. His body jolted as if shocked. The cursed blade howled in resonance, the sound stabbing into the air like a scream no human throat could make.

Han Sen felt the vibration in his own bones, but he didn't flinch. He adjusted his grip, steadying Do-hyun as the kid's body convulsed.

The girl grit her teeth, forcing more energy into him. "Stay with me, damn it! Don't you dare lose it now!"

But it wasn't working the way she wanted.

Do-hyun's back arched, his mouth opened in a ragged laugh that wasn't laughter, and his breath came in sharp bursts. The light in his eyes fractured, spiraling like shattered glass. The sound coming out of him was unhinged, half-laughter, half-snarling.

Han Sen stared, every instinct screaming that this wasn't sustainable. He shot the girl a look. "How's he holding up?"

She bit her lip, voice breaking. "Not good… not good at all."....

The vault air felt too thick, like somebody had boiled metal and sweat into the recycled ventilation. Kim Do-hyun's head lolled sideways against the cold floor, and even with blood drying sticky on his cheek, he could still hear the thumping chaos of boots and claws outside. The monster hadn't left. That thing was still pacing, still breathing through whatever nightmare lungs it had, waiting for the next mistake.

"Kill that monster now!" Kim Chae-min's voice cracked out like it was both an order and a scream, raw from panic. Her body trembled where she was half-pinned against the steel wall, the wound in her abdomen seeping too much red. Every second she stayed awake felt like a rebellion against biology.

Number 3's absence was louder than any sound in the room. That missing tether inside Kim Do-hyun's mind was like someone had ripped out a nerve. He could still feel the ghost of that connection if he focused, like phantom pain after an amputation. His system whispered the cold truth: Clone destroyed. Resummon available after twenty-four hours.

Twenty-four hours. A damn eternity when his sister might not have twenty minutes.

He tried to push up on one arm, but the cursed sword weighed him down, its hilt vibrating like it was laughing. His vision doubled, and his lips moved slower than his thoughts.

"Save… my sister," he muttered, his voice barely audible, throat raw, each syllable scraping like broken glass. "She's… over there."

The words fell apart halfway out of his mouth. His eyes darted toward Chae-min, who was biting back groans like a stubborn child refusing medicine. Her hands pressed uselessly against her stomach, blood soaking through her fingers until they shone wet in the vault's sickly fluorescent light.

"Forget me," Do-hyun rasped, his jaw tightening against the taste of iron in his mouth. "Forget me… save her."

The cursed sword pulsed again, like it disapproved, like it wanted him angry and selfish. His knuckles whitened around the grip, even as his consciousness drifted like a loose balloon in the wind.

Han Sen crouched down beside him, calm as if the monster scratching outside was a weather report instead of an existential crisis. The man's clothes were battle-marked, his boots dusted with grit from collapsed concrete, but his eyes never broke their quiet focus. He looked at Do-hyun the way a surgeon looked at a stubborn patient calculating what could be salvaged.

"You're not dying here," Han Sen said, voice steady, almost casual. "Neither you nor your sister."

The tone wasn't heroic; it was contractual, like he was signing a deal in blood instead of ink. His presence pressed down heavier than the sword's whisper, heavier than the monster's scrape outside.

"Yeah, bro," Han Sen added, flicking his chin toward the vault's half-crushed doorway where the monster's shadow writhed, "but first I've gotta deal with that ugly bastard. So rest. Close your eyes. Soon, it'll all be over."

His words stretched into the vault like a blanket, smothering the panic with practiced assurance. The healer crouched nearby, fumbling with her kit, hands shaking but determined. Chae-min's eyes fluttered, still fighting to stay awake, still clinging to her brother's half-conscious gaze.

Do-hyun's body stopped listening to him. His grip slackened around the sword. The hum inside his skull quieted into a dull buzz.

The edges of the vault smeared into shadow, the monster's guttural rumble stretching long and warped, until the world itself folded into silence.

Kim Do-hyun passed out.