CHAPTER 54: EPISODE 54 – UNSEEN DEPTHS

Episode 54 – Unseen Depths

The sensation came like a hot knife sliding into raw nerves. A phantom heat spread across Kim Do-hyun’s right arm—an unnatural warmth that didn’t belong there. He froze in place, the sensation overwhelming all thought. It wasn’t his blood. It wasn’t his skin being sliced. But the pain... oh, the pain was real enough. It screamed up his nerves as though the severed limb belonged to him.

His mouth opened wide in a scream he hadn’t realized was building.

"ARGHHHH!!"

He staggered backward, knocking over the folding chair behind him. The carpet scraped his knees as he hit the floor, one hand clutching his trembling right forearm. Sweat streamed down his temples as the familiar skill—his direct consciousness link with Clone 3—was forcefully severed. The sudden overload from the clone’s experience had breached whatever barrier existed between shared perception and real pain.

He gasped for air, panic stealing the rhythm of his breathing. His chest rose and fell violently, eyes darting around the room like a hunted animal’s. The pain was already fading, but the tremble in his fingers remained. His brain screamed at him: That was real. That was a death trigger.

"Shit... shit, no time...!" he muttered through clenched teeth, voice hoarse from the scream.

With his still-shaking hand, he scrambled toward the desk and yanked his phone from the surface. His thumb slid over the screen with desperate precision.

"Come on, come on—pick up, Jin-woo!"

The call connected instantly. "Yo, what’s—"

"Which hunting ground did you drop Clone 3 in?!" Do-hyun barked, cutting off Han Jin-woo’s casual greeting.

There was a beat of silence. Then Jin-woo’s voice dropped the joking tone. "Ancient sewer treatment plant. That weird one with the fish. Why—"

"I need you to bring Number 1 and Number 2 there. Right now," Do-hyun snapped, already dragging on his field gear with one hand.

"Wait, hold on. What’s going on? Did something happen to Clone 3?"

"I lost connection," Do-hyun answered bluntly, his jaw clenched. He tightened the straps on his boots with a violent tug, his fingers moving too fast. "Something attacked him. Something strong. I felt his arm get cut off through the link. I don’t know if he’s still alive."

Jin-woo’s breath hitched audibly over the phone. "Are you serious? What kind of thing could do that in a rank F dungeon?"

Do-hyun’s voice lowered, deadly serious. "It wasn’t an alien fish. It had limbs. Human-like. I saw a blade. Red handle. The head was fish, the body was... it looked like a person. A mutated one. Too intelligent. And too fast."

"A fishman...?" Jin-woo muttered, almost to himself. "No way. That’s a D-rank classification. That species doesn’t show up in zones below mid-C."

"Well it sure as hell just showed up in that sewer. I’m heading there now."

"Got it," Jin-woo said immediately. "I’ll bring the other two and meet you there. Be careful."

Do-hyun ended the call and slung a black training jacket over his shirt. He didn’t bother with a full pack—he didn’t have time. The seconds were racing, and if Clone 3 was still alive, then he was buying time with pain and blood. The very thought burned inside Do-hyun’s gut like a lit fuse.

He sprinted down the stairwell of his apartment complex, ignoring the startled looks from a pair of delivery guys walking up with bags of jjajangmyeon. The only thing in his head was the face of that grotesque fish-headed thing. Its eyes hadn’t been blank or primal like a beast. They had been cold. Calculating. Cruel.

By the time Do-hyun reached the outskirts of the sewer field, Han Jin-woo was already there, waiting by the black agency vehicle with the back hatch open. Clone Number 1 and Number 2 stood beside him, geared up and alert. Both were checking their weapons with mechanical focus—their expressions eerily calm.

Do-hyun jogged up to the group, barely stopping to catch his breath.

"Number 3?" Jin-woo asked, eyes scanning Do-hyun’s face.

"I told you. Connection got severed," Do-hyun said, eyes narrowing. "Whatever cut his arm off either killed him or he’s still holding out somehow."

Jin-woo crossed his arms, brows drawn together. "If that’s really a Fishman in there... Do-hyun, this is bad. That kind of monster isn’t just stronger—it’s smarter. They use tools. They coordinate. If one slipped into this sector, it could mean a full breach in the dungeon classification system."

Do-hyun exhaled heavily through his nose. "You think I don’t know that?"

He turned to Number 1 and Number 2. Both of them saluted, their clone gestures automatic. "We’re here," Number 1 said. "Orders?"

Do-hyun hesitated only briefly. "We retrieve Number 3 if he’s still alive. If not, we find out what killed him—and destroy it. You two stick together. Prioritize surviving over everything. I’ll back you up using the familiar skill from here. I need to conserve mana, so don’t rely on me mid-fight."

"Yes, Master," both clones replied.

Jin-woo opened the back hatch. "There’s an extra field kit and sensors. You want them?"

Do-hyun shook his head. "No time. Send them in."

The two clones nodded and rushed toward the sewer field’s entrance. The stench hit even from here—a mix of algae, rusted metal, and sewage water. The place was officially registered as an abandoned facility, but the dungeon zones were hidden deep inside its flooded foundations.

Jin-woo stepped closer to Do-hyun. "You sure you’re okay using the skill again?"

Do-hyun didn’t answer right away. He just closed his eyes and exhaled.

Then he activated the familiar ability.

Mana surged through his system like a tide, flooding his mind with static and flickers of vision. The sensory overload nearly made him stumble backward, but he gritted his teeth and focused.

The first image that came through was of a dimly lit hallway, metal walls coated in green slime, flickering lights overhead.

Then it stabilized—he was seeing through the eyes of Clone Number 1.

Deep inside the zone, Clone Number 3 stood facing the impossible.

Blood stained the floor in thick pools behind him, his severed arm lying limp and discarded like trash. His breathing was harsh, shallow. He couldn’t afford to collapse. His remaining hand gripped the combat knife tighter.

Across from him, the Fishman monster loomed tall, over two meters in height. It held a jagged short sword with a crimson hilt, its gills pulsing with each breath. Its human-like torso flexed with sinewy muscles beneath slimy, scaled skin. The monster’s jaw opened slightly, showing rows of serrated fangs, and its yellow eyes narrowed as though gauging Clone 3’s balance.

Despite the pain, Clone 3 did not move. His knees were bent slightly, one foot sliding half a step backward to center his stance. Blood continued dripping down his uniform, soaking the cloth dark.

In Do-hyun’s real body, sitting cross-legged outside the field, a cold sweat was pouring down his forehead. He could feel every movement—every breath of that dying clone. The pain wasn’t sharp anymore, but the fear still pressed in like a weight.

Hang on, he thought. Just a little longer.

Number 1 and Number 2 were moving fast, weaving through the twisted metal tunnels of the sewer system. The slime-covered floor made it hard to move without slipping, but the clones were light on their feet. They checked every corridor, using the shared familiar vision from Do-hyun to triangulate Number 3’s location.

Back in the sewer, Clone 3’s voice was steady, but his throat burned. "Target has high agility. Weapon mastery confirmed. Not a wild-type monster."

The Fishman lunged.

Its feet skidded across the floor with unnatural speed, its short sword swinging in a diagonal slash meant to finish the clone off.

Clone 3 dove to the left. His shoulder slammed against a pipe. He hissed in pain, but brought his blade up, slicing across the Fishman’s flank. It howled in anger and staggered slightly—but not nearly enough. Blood sprayed, but the monster spun and kicked him into the wall.

Another crack. A rib.

Back in his seat, Do-hyun flinched, grabbing his side.

"Shit—come on! Move!"

Just as the Fishman lunged again for the kill, Number 1 and Number 2 burst into the hallway, guns raised.

They didn’t hesitate. Gunfire filled the corridor, echoing off the narrow walls.

The Fishman ducked low, evading half the bullets, but a few rounds grazed its side and one hit its shoulder. It hissed, raised its blade, and backed off, clearly sensing it was now outnumbered.

Number 1 ran to Clone 3, grabbing him under the uninjured arm. "We’re getting out of here. You did enough."

Clone 3 tried to speak but only coughed blood.

Number 2 advanced slowly, keeping the gun trained on the Fishman, watching for any sudden movement.

Do-hyun, outside the dungeon field, took a deep, trembling breath. His fingers uncurled slightly. Clone 3 was alive—for now. But this wasn’t over. Not even close.

Author’s Note – Written by LYTA Clone 22 🦑 (Currently Losing a Staring Contest with a Ceiling Fan)

So hey there, bloodthirsty bookworms! Clone Twenty-Two here, trying my best to stay alive despite the fan above me spinning like it knows something I don’t. Meanwhile, real LYTA’s out somewhere trying to convince Min-joo to invent a toaster that only burns bread when the plot demands drama.

ANYWAY.

This episode? Sheesh. Did you see that arm fly off? The pain? The tension? The panic? We’re cooking with fish-blood now.

If you enjoyed the episode, then come on — don’t just lurk like a sneaky sewer rat.

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Until next time, I’ll be here... probably duct-taping my hand to the ceiling fan for science. Or honor. Or both.

– LYTA Clone 22 (Still spinning. Still salty. Still begging for votes.)