CHAPTER 50: EPISODE 50 – MIND OVER MONSTERS

EPISODE 50 – MIND OVER MONSTERS

The cold light of the morning sun spilled through the open blinds, casting thin stripes of gold across the living room floor. Kim Do-hyun sat hunched forward in front of his computer screen, posture tense, eyes narrowed with laser focus. His coffee had long gone cold beside him, and his phone buzzed quietly on the desk—ignored.

He wasn’t gaming, messaging, or zoning out.

He was watching monsters die.

Video after video played back at 0.75x speed. Tutorials, raid captures, helmet cam uploads, and even shaky drone footage taken during failed guild incursions. While the footage varied in quality, what mattered wasn’t production—it was movement. Specifically, pattern recognition. Do-hyun’s screen showed a split-screen interface: the top half played the footage, while the bottom half was a crude animation diagram he’d made, sketching out the footwork or predicted charge paths of each creature.

One tab was paused on a clip of a giant sewer rat lunging from a shadowy pipe with a throat-shaking snarl.

Do-hyun muttered, barely audible: "Two head feints. Always telegraphs the third real strike."

He clicked to the next tab, now watching a glassy-eyed mutant fish slither over concrete and then explode forward like a spring-loaded spear. The hunter on screen barely dodged in time and got nicked across the ribs. Blood burst out like a broken hydrant.

Another clip. This time, a horned rabbit. Bigger than a pit bull. It ducked low and exploded upward like a compressed spring. Too predictable if you knew the right timing.

And another. Scaled frogs with muscular back legs and slippery hides launched surprise attacks from shallow puddles, using their tongues like whipcords.

Every video added another piece to the puzzle.

Do-hyun didn’t just watch them for entertainment or even strategy anymore. He was cataloging real-world combat data into his mental encyclopedia.

"By now," he muttered, dragging a note file to the side of the screen, "the clones should be able to react faster than the average Rank F Hunter... maybe even E."

The knowledge wasn’t for him alone. The real purpose of this marathon session was to prepare his clones. If they could watch it, they could imitate it. If they could imitate it, they could train against it. And if they could train against it...

Then killing it became second nature.

The front door creaked.

He looked up from his screen as three familiar silhouettes filed into the living room, their steps heavy, shoulders slick with sweat, faces flushed with exhaustion.

Number 1 limped in first, dragging a resistance band across one shoulder. His shirt looked like it had soaked through twice over.

Number 2 followed with both shoes missing and a bleeding scrape across his right knee. He grumbled something about the "stupid uphill sand hill challenge."

Number 3 trailed behind, holding a bottle of water in each hand and panting like he’d been chased by a chimera.

Do-hyun sniffed the air. He blinked once.

And then leaned back in his chair, one brow twitching.

"You guys smell like somebody microwaved a gym locker," he said bluntly. "Go shower. Immediately."

Number 2 collapsed on the floor. "Just five minutes, boss..."

"Nope. Now. I’m not negotiating with walking biohazards."

Grumbling like children denied recess, the trio shuffled toward the bathroom.

Do-hyun leaned back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He’d gotten more mental exercise in the past four hours than most Hunters did in a week, but the plan wasn’t complete yet. Watching those guides was just step one. He needed to see whether the clones could apply those strategies during live combat.

He cracked his neck and stretched his arms above his head.

"So far, I’ve got data on sewer rats, mutated carp, armored rabbits, and swamp frogs. That covers most of the Rank F monsters in urban zones..."

He glanced at the empty hallway where water had begun to run from the shower, steam slowly trailing out.

Now came the next test.

Could his clones—without his physical presence—take that learned theory and execute it?

He clicked on another tab: "Shared Consciousness – FAMILIAR Mode."

His eyes narrowed.

Theoretically, if he linked his senses to a clone while they were in the field, he could watch their movements in real-time. He could analyze reaction timing, spatial control, and response to surprises on the fly. It would also allow him to micromanage them like a game player running a squad of AI bots.

The problem?

It hurt like hell.

Even when he used the link for under a minute, it burned through his mana reserves like an open faucet. He’d nearly passed out the first time just trying to sync with Number 1 during light sparring. The skill was viable... but risky.

Still, there was no time to hesitate.

A sudden buzz interrupted his thoughts.

Do-hyun picked up the phone. Han Jin-woo’s voice blared before he could even say hello.

"I’ll be there in ten. You better be ready."

Do-hyun blinked, checked the time, and winced. He turned toward the hallway.

The clones had just reemerged, hair wet and steam still rising off their skin. They had changed into combat suits—black, padded, and reinforced with carbon-thread mesh. The gear looked borderline military.

They were halfway through opening their protein bars when Do-hyun clapped his hands once.

"Let’s go, my children."

Number 3’s mouth dropped open with the protein bar still inside. "We just sat down..."

"No time for food. We’re running on simulated adrenaline and delayed hunger. You’ll survive."

The doorbell rang within seconds.

Han Jin-woo was standing at the front steps, leaning against a matte-black sedan with tinted windows and a disapproving look on his face. His hair looked unbrushed, and his face screamed I haven’t slept since Thursday.

As the door opened, he looked up, blinked, and took in the full view.

The clones were lined up behind Do-hyun like a black-ops squad, combat suits tight, gear strapped, eyes sharp.

"...Man," Jin-woo muttered. "Your clones are starting to look way too dangerous. They give off main character energy now."

Do-hyun raised an eyebrow. "Honestly? I’m getting nervous too. Number 3 started quoting action movies last night."

"You’re coming with, right?" Jin-woo asked, opening the passenger side.

Do-hyun shook his head, stepping back into the doorway.

"Nah. I’ve got work to do here. I’m gonna test the familiar skill again and start meditating on my mana flows."

"You’re not coming?"

"Nope. They’re going solo. Today’s test is about independence."

Han stared at him.

"You’re dropping your clones off at the dungeon like it’s daycare."

"Exactly like daycare," Do-hyun grinned. "Just with more teeth and fewer safety rules."

He waved once.

The clones filed into the car with grunts of protest. Jin-woo shook his head and closed the door behind them.

As the car disappeared down the road, Do-hyun stepped back inside, closed the door, and exhaled slowly.

Now came the hard part.

---

Back inside the apartment, Kim Do-hyun folded his legs in the center of the living room, sitting on a square mat surrounded by nothing but silence and the faint hum of electronics. The coffee table had been cleared. His phone was muted. The system interface glowed faintly in his peripheral vision, but he ignored it.

What mattered now was his mana.

He shut his eyes.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

He recalled the last time he had tried to use the familiar skill. There had been a distinct moment—right after linking to Number 1—when his mana didn’t just move.

It leaked.

It had spilled out of him, uncontrolled, erratic, like trying to pour from a jug with no lid. His head had pulsed. His hands had trembled. His mana bar had dropped by nearly a quarter in sixty seconds.

That couldn’t happen again.

This time, he needed to guide the flow—not as a hose, but as a circuit. Closed. Controlled. Circulating.

He pictured a loop. Energy spiraling from his chest to his limbs, then back again. He focused on every inhale and exhale like a monk in a mountaintop temple.

Seconds passed.

Then minutes.

Then hours.

The room stayed still, the only change being the faint twitch of Do-hyun’s fingertips and the steady rhythm of his breath. His mind went quiet—not empty, but focused.

And somewhere, deep in the system interface... a soft notification echoed in his mind.

[You have acquired a new skill: Meditation (Passive)]

– Stabilizes the user’s mind and improves mana flow

– Slight recovery to mental fatigue during rest

– Mana regeneration speed increased

– Mana gain efficiency improved

– Amplifies effects of Mana Breathing

Kim Do-hyun opened his eyes.

And smiled.

---

📜 AUTHOR’S NOTE — Written by LYTA Clone 14 🥶 (Currently Stuck Inside a Walk-In Freezer with a Broken Thermostat)

Okay, real talk, I only came in here for some midnight ice cream and now I think my bones are developing frost resistance. If I don’t make it out, someone tell the real LYTA to stop experimenting with monster popsicle recipes. I’m not a guinea pig, I’m a clone with RIGHTS.

Meanwhile, LYTA is probably in a sauna somewhere sipping cucumber tea while I’m over here achieving enlightenment through hypothermia.

ANYWAY. You’ve made it this far, and that’s epic. But if you want Do-hyun to keep punching monsters and unlocking brain-bending powers, here’s how you can help us out:

✅ LIKE like your clone’s life depends on it (spoiler: it does)

✅ COMMENT — roast someone, praise someone, scream at someone, I don’t care, I read them all

✅ GIFT — even a tiny gift makes a huge difference (we accept hot packs too)

✅ GOLDEN TICKET — reset monthly, go use them before they expire

✅ UNLOCK more Chapters with PRIVILEGE — flex your early access like a Hunter license

✅ SHARE this novel with your team, your siblings, or that one neighbor who secretly reads WNs

✅ REVIEW — just a few words keeps us alive in the algorithm dungeon

✅ SUGGEST anything crazy — I’ll pitch it to LYTA personally (if I thaw out in time)

Support makes the story grow, keeps me out of the freezer, and helps Do-hyun become a legend. See you next Chapter!

– LYTA Clone 14

(Currently learning ice elemental resistance the hard way.)