Episode 72: Locked Outside.
Authors Note:
I’m guessing you may have noticed that so Chapters titles are list as ga and so as episode. Here’s what’s going on..
Authors note:
Important Broadcast of Clone Number One.
Oi oi oi, humans! This is Clone Number One speaking live in the shadow dinsion of the author (yes, I escaped again... do not ask how). You should pay attention to you before you get lost like a noob in a 100-floor dungeon before you dive into this Chapter.
All the Chapters of this story are being rewritten!
Our writer, the great Little LYTA has blasted through and is in Chapter 40 of the great re-editing crusade. All that precedes 40 is glossy, smooth and full of new surprises, and in case you miss it, you will surely get lost. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Re-read. Re-READ. RE-READ!
[?][?] The protagonist is no longer Kim Do-hyun, but the ultimate, spicy, clone-abusing Han Tae-yang. It is the sa world, the sa ss but everything is new as a respawn point at dawn.
Current stats:
There were 82 Chapters in Story originally.
Re-write entire: 40 Chapters (and more).
Skeleton? Rebuilt. Muscles? Buffed. Cody? Overdosed.
Now for the fun part:
ALL top supporters, comnters, gifters, voters, readers, golden ticket droppers, and active fans have been... ahem... absorbed into the story as characters. Yes, you, yes you reading this, your na might be canon. Wish to be rembered when this novel explodes? Leave your mark. Stand out. When the book goes mythical, your na will be heard in the annals of webnovel history.
Side note: Little LYTA is in webnovel account restrictions (ask not, long story with a coffee spill and possibly a cursed system administrator), and therefore cannot respond to your comnts. BUT, he sees everything. So support, lay aside your thoughts, and in case you have questions that are burning, or fan missions that are a secret...
Join the Discord: @lyta17
Every mber of the server will receive special fan rewards (believe , it is worth it, most likely).
Alright, that’s all from your humble servant, Clone Number One. I’m off to convince Tae-yang not to send to work at "Crazy Tom Logistics" again. My back hurts, man...
[?][?] Let’s do this, fans. Re-read, support, and leave your mark. The tower awaits.
.Clone Number One, signing off [?]
The parents were pressed against the far wall, their hands clutching each other so tightly it looked like bone might break. Their eyes kept darting between the fallen girl and the monster thrashing against the reinforced fra of the ergency door. Their breaths ca in rapid, uneven bursts, the kind that made you wonder if they were breathing air or panic.
On the cracked tile floor, his sister lay sprawled, her body trembling in shallow bursts of movent, lips pale and eyes wide but unfocused. The puddle beneath her was growing far too fast, a dark, tallic scent saturating the air. Every ti she tried to push herself up, her arms shook violently, as if her body had already decided it was done fighting.
Number Three didn’t waste ti looking at the wound too long. His face was locked in that strange, flat focus he always wore when sothing in his head clicked from panic to decision. He scooped up the nearest weapon a reinforced glaive half-bent from earlier impact fingers curling around the shaft like he intended to crush it. Without hesitation, his other hand slamd down on the wall-mounted ergency lever.
The fire sealing system roared to life in a chain of clunking tal locks and groaning hydraulic shutters. Sparks sprayed down as the overhead sprinklers purged themselves, filling the air with a thin mist that slled of chemical retardant. The alarm’s howl was loud enough to make eardrums sting.
Before anyone could react, he took two long strides toward the monster. His boots struck the floor hard enough to leave faint cracks in the dusty surface, and then his legs coiled. The next instant, his entire body shot upward and forward in a single, brutal jump that would’ve looked impossible to most hunters. The glaive’s tip pierced into the monster’s side mid-flight, his montum carrying them both through the shattered outer barrier.
The impact outside was a violent ss of sound flesh tearing, armor-like chitin snapping, Number Three’s own body smashing against the ground beyond the sealed line. The recoil of the clash was enough to throw dust into the corridor like smoke. And then before the monster could force its way back inside Number Three twisted, planted the glaive into the fra, and used his last burst of strength to shove the door into place.
The locking bolts slamd down with a tallic thunder, sealing the monster outside. But he didn’t step back through. He stayed out there, his silhouette visible for only a heartbeat before the secondary plates slamd shut. He was gone.
He had sacrificed himself.
Inside, nobody spoke for several seconds. The parents were still frozen against the wall, their breathing shallow. The sister’s body was motionless now, her blood making a slow, creeping path along the seams in the tile. The thought hit like a hamr: would she even survive? That stab had gone deep too deep.
The scene fractured, the dust and alarm fading into another sound footsteps.
A shadow fell over the protagonist, and a voice broke through the haze.
"Sorry I’m late," Han Sen said, his tone a mix of frustration and relief. He extended a hand, and his presence was heavy in the way only soone used to dangerous hunts could carry themselves.
The protagonist blinked up at him. The na rang a bell imdiately Han Sen. He’d heard of him before, but had never pictured him being this absurdly strong. For a brief mont, the tension in his chest eased, like the chaos outside had finally found a wall it couldn’t get past.
"Thanks... for saving ," the protagonist said, still catching his breath as he accepted the hand and got pulled to his feet.
But Han Sen shook his head lightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You’ve got it backwards. I should be thanking you. You saved a lot of people in there."
The words hit differently. The protagonist’s mind flickered back to the sister lying on the floor, her blood staining the world red. He didn’t know yet. He couldn’t know yet. So for now, the praise slid into him like warm sunlight, even if it would one day burn.
"Ah... it was nothing," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck, cheeks heating under the weight of so many eyes. The nearby survivors were already murmuring praises, nodding toward him, their expressions saying hero in every language without needing to speak it.
Han Sen raised a hand, almost like telling him to relax. "Calm down, hero," he said with a half-grin. But his gaze drifted away briefly, his brow furrowing as if recalling sothing he couldn’t shake.
Because he had seen sothing right before arriving. A figure vanishing into the chaos. The clone. And the question gnawed at him: who was that? What kind of existence was that thing?
Shaking it off, he looked back at the protagonist. "You’re a hunter, right?"
"Yeah," ca the reply, a little hesitant. "But... it hasn’t been long."
Han Sen tilted his head, studying him with interest. "Alright then... tell , what’s your ability?"
The protagonist’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t want to spill that much. But the guy had saved his life, and so part of him felt like refusing now would just be... wrong. He drew in a breath, about to say
"My ability is"
Sothing shifted. The connection with Number Three snapped in his head like a wire pulled too far and torn. His thoughts derailed instantly.
His eyes fell on the ground on the fishman’s cursed sword lying there, glistening with a faint, unnatural sheen. Before Han Sen could say anything, he was already moving. He bent down, snatched it up, fingers curling around the grip like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.
He didn’t care about questions. He didn’t care about the eyes on him. His voice ripped through the air in a raw shout
"My family’s in danger!"
And then he ran.
---
Author’s Note – by Little LYTA, Clone 39
Hi yes hello, this is Clone 39 speaking. The real Little LYTA is busy crying in the corner because apparently Clone Three just yeeted himself out the window with a monster, and soone has to keep this operation running. So I, the totally sane and responsible clone, am now in charge of... whatever this is.
Listen. This Chapter was stressful. People almost died, people actually died, cursed swords are lying around like it’s a garage sale, and anwhile Han Sen just casually walked in like "Sorry I’m late" as if he didn’t just miss the world’s most dramatic WWE tag-team match. If you think I’m emotionally okay after that, you are wrong.
Now, important business:
You — yes, YOU, holding the phone or laptop or suspicious work computer pretending to be busy — need to vote. You see that little "Vote" button? Smash it like you’re Number Three drop-kicking a monster into the void. This feeds the author’s life force (also known as caffeine budget).
Next: Profile & Comnt. Go to the author’s profile, follow it like you’re stalking an enemy boss spawn, and leave a comnt so future readers think we have an actual fandom instead of three clones and a squirrel.
Golden Tickets — these are like premium in-world buffs. You have them. You’re probably hoarding them like so kind of loot goblin. Spend them here before they expire and I show up in your room at 3 a.m. to explain the plot of this novel in real ti.
Gifts — if you have spare coins, send a gift. Why? Because gifts are shiny, and shiny things make the author happy, and happy authors write faster instead of spending their evenings crying over spreadsheets.
Privileges — unlock those Chapters early. Yes, that ans you can read tomorrow’s chaos before the peasants do. Do it. Taste the forbidden future.
Read More & Unblock Chapters — if you’re behind, stop lying to yourself and catch up. Just... click. It’s not hard. Unless you’re on a potato phone. In which case... may the Wi-Fi gods bless you.
And lastly: Reviews _ go leave one. Don’t just write "good book." Lie to people. Tell them it cured your arthritis, summoned a phoenix in your living room, and made your crush fall in love with you. The algorithm will never know.
Okay, I have to go wrestle Clone 17 because he’s trying to glue googly eyes onto the fishman’s cursed sword. Support the novel or I’ll replace your favorite character with a talking pigeon.
Clone 39, professional chaos manager
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