CHAPTER 47: EPISODE 47: THE RISING FLAME AND THE FALL OF THREE

Episode 47: The Rising Flame and the Fall of Three

The roar of the explosion hadn’t fully faded when a thick curtain of smoke rolled across the battered street like a slow gray tide. The charred air reeked of scorched asphalt and burnt polyester, sharp enough to sting the nose and burn the throat. Rubble and splinters of shattered sidewalk lay scattered around the impact crater, and at its center, something massive had been hurled back.

Kim Do-hyun (김도현) was still hunched low near the ground, his hands bracing his knees, lungs wheezing with each shallow breath. His ribs ached from the last brutal strike he had taken, and his abdomen still felt like a twisted knot of fire from where that mountain of a man had crushed him. His fingers were trembling slightly, half from adrenaline, half from pain, but his eyes were steady, locked on the aftermath.

Out from the dispersing smoke came the sight that snapped everyone’s attention—the fat boss, the towering bruiser who had been pummeling him like a rag doll earlier, was now staggering backward, chunks of his jacket in flames. He groaned, teeth gritted in agony, chest rising and falling like a furious beast trying to stay conscious.

"What the hell..." Do-hyun whispered hoarsely, wiping blood from his lips. His eyes flicked up instinctively.

The source of the sudden counterattack was floating above the debris, just above a cracked lamppost, her figure silhouetted against the blazing remnants of her magic.

Oh Min-joo (오민주) stood there, arm outstretched, her palm still glowing with sizzling embers. Her other hand clutched her burnt wrist, skin around her fingers already raw and blistering. She was panting, her chest rising and falling as she tried not to collapse.

Her uniform had been scorched at the edges, and her short hair clung to her cheeks from sweat. Despite the obvious pain etching every inch of her face, her eyes blazed with defiance. "Don’t touch him," she said under her breath, her voice too soft to travel but loud enough inside herself.

She had launched the sun. She had burned her hand to do it. She had risked it all to protect him.

Do-hyun’s heart twisted in a strange way, something between guilt and pride. The ache in his chest was no longer just from the bruises.

But just as he gathered himself to rush to her side, movement in the corners of his vision drew his attention. The Tarzan-looking thug snarled and lunged toward her like a jungle predator who had just seen a wounded prey. Beside him, Carvo the bald brute also darted forward, the whites of his eyes filled with mean satisfaction.

"Oh no you don’t," Do-hyun muttered, but he was too far. Too slow.

Min-joo, still wobbling from exhaustion, raised her hand again. But her fingers only twitched weakly, no magic gathered, and her knees were buckling.

Then, just as both attackers were about to reach her, an unexpected force slammed into the battlefield.

Black figures dropped from a nearby rooftop with impossible speed. The sound of heavy boots hitting concrete echoed like thunder.

A group of men—no, not men... copies—each wearing identical black combat suits with sleek, almost ceremonial designs etched into the armor, stepped between Min-joo and the thugs. Their movements were disciplined, like soldiers, yet their eyes bore the same fire as the original.

It was them. The clones.

Number One led the charge, calm but radiating hostility. Numbers Two flanked him on either side, already shifting into a defensive formation around Min-joo.

"You called?" Number One said, turning just slightly to glance at the real Do-hyun across the ruined street.

The fat boss, now half-covered in soot, looked up in confusion. "Who...?"

He never got the chance to finish. Because at that moment, the original Kim Do-hyun stood up. He had quietly stepped beside the large man, his breathing still labored but no longer shaky.

He wiped the corner of his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand and said, almost casually, "Now we can talk."

The fat man’s eyes widened, but only for a moment. He launched another haymaker, his large arm cutting through the air like a slab of concrete.

But Do-hyun was already moving. His feet twisted, hips turned, and with the momentum passed down from countless memories of Number Two’s training, he flipped backward, eyes locking with the enemy midair. For a split second, everything froze.

Their faces were parallel, just inches apart, upside-down. Do-hyun saw the flicker of surprise in the man’s eyes, the brief moment of doubt.

Then the moment shattered.

Do-hyun brought down his heel in a brutal spinning kick mid-flip. It landed clean on the temple.

The fat boss staggered.

Do-hyun landed smoothly and didn’t waste a second. He pushed off again, arms pivoting his weight. His body rotated in a series of acrobatic movements he hadn’t practiced in real life but had seen again and again through the memories of Number Two—his sparring sessions, his defeats, his silent reflections late at night in the clone mindspace.

Now, all of it belonged to him.

He flipped again. Another strike landed. Then a palm block, then a shoulder feint. He moved like water through fire.

Behind him, Carvo had frozen. Tarzan too. Their confidence was cracking.

That was all the clones needed.

Number Two swept Carvo’s legs from under him with a sharp roundhouse. Number one followed up by stomping him to the ground with a single crushing knee. Number One ducked under a wild swing from Tarzan and jabbed his knuckles into the man’s ribs with the precision of a surgical strike.

It was an all-out dismantling.

In under a minute, all three enemies were sprawled on the ground, groaning in agony. The fat boss tried to rise again, but Do-hyun walked over and placed his foot calmly on the man’s chest, pushing him back down.

Silence returned to the alleyway, save for the soft sizzle of something still burning and the distant hum of Seoul’s city noise.

Then—Ding!

A sharp chime rang out inside his head, followed by a sequence of blue system windows flashing in front of his eyes.

[SYSTEM ALERT]

Reflex +2

Strength +3

Speed +2

Endurance +2

Vitality +3

Combat Adaptation Sequence Complete

Level Up Achieved

Current Level: 3

Clone Limit Unlocked: 3 Clones Available for Simultaneous Deployment

Do-hyun blinked at the notifications, barely processing the upgrades as the exhaustion settled in.

His legs were wobbling. His breathing was ragged. Every part of his body felt like it had been through a furnace, but he didn’t collapse.

He turned slowly toward Min-joo.

She was still on her knees, holding her burnt wrist, but when she saw him standing victorious with the enemies groaning on the floor behind him, her lips parted slightly in shock.

Then a smile crept onto her face, small but full of pride.

For a moment, there was peace in the alley.

Do-hyun tilted his head back, staring at the flickering lights above, letting his body rest just a little. His thoughts were messy, overwhelmed, but clear in one thing.

He had done it. He survived. They survived. And now... he was stronger.

He had three clones. A whole new battlefield had opened.

And whatever was coming next... he’d be ready.

Suddenly he collapsed. Blacked out

---

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📜 AUTHOR’S NOTE — Written by LYTA Clone 12 🧺 (Currently Folding Laundry With One Hand While Typing With the Other)

Hey hey hey, LYTA Clone 12 here—multitasking like a domestic war god. While one of my hands is fighting a never-ending battle against crumpled socks and wrinkled shirts, the other is here bringing you today’s hype-filled author note.

Listen, if you’ve made it this far into Kim Do-hyun’s clone-filled brawlfest of a journey, then I already love you more than my favorite hoodie. But seriously, your support matters so much. This isn’t just a story—it’s a whole new world we’re building together. And your likes, your votes, your reviews, your gifts... they don’t go unnoticed. Not a single one.

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✅ Smash that vote button like you’re hitting Carvo’s bald head.

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And just so you know, LYTA is short for Little LYTA, the brilliant mind behind this entire series, and we’re officially represented by WN Agency—that stands for NovelBin Agency, and our rep, Han Jin-woo, keeps things tight and spicy on the backend.

Your support makes this world come alive. Let’s keep it going. Let’s build something unforgettable.

Now back to folding these cursed shirts.

— LYTA Clone 12 (one hand laundry legend, full brain hype beast) 🧺🔥