My Auto Cloning System-Chapter 41: Episode : Trigger Discipline

Episode 41: Trigger Discipline

The cold, acrid scent of gunpowder clung to the air like the lingering bite of metal after a fresh blade’s first swing. Inside the indoor shooting range operated by the WN Agency, the climate was carefully regulated to preserve the firearms and electronics—dry, cool, and sterile—almost unnaturally clean despite the regular thunder of bullets tearing through paper targets. Overhead, the strip lights buzzed softly, faintly flickering as they struggled to compete with the recoil bursts echoing through the narrow lanes. The walls were soundproofed with thick, matte-black padding that swallowed most of the gunfire, but not the tension. That lingered.

Kim Do-hyun (김도현) sat somewhere far from the chaos, his physical body now slouched on a metal bench that had long lost any sense of comfort. The bench stood by one of the rear courtyard trees, a spot just beyond the edge of the WN Agency’s main facility. From this quiet vantage point, he could hear faint, muffled traces of the training chaos still going on inside the range. But his attention, his true presence, was elsewhere.

Within the confines of his mind, his consciousness was fully tethered to Number One.

Do-hyun had used his Familiar Skill again, the moment his time inside Clone Number Two had ended. His physical body remained outside, unmoving, while his inner perspective now rode the eyes and nerves of his clone—the clone currently inside the shooting range—Number One.

Unlike the blunt physicality of combat training, the shooting range had a precision to it, a kind of stillness in motion that demanded near-supernatural timing. Every muscle had to move in agreement, no wasted gesture, no panic. Number One stood tall in his booth, Desert Eagle cradled in his steady grip. The pistol looked massive in that black-gloved hand, yet the clone held it like an extension of his own arm.

A target disc was just released, flung into the air by the automated launcher from the far end of the range. It sliced forward at a harsh angle, spinning quickly, flickering in and out of the overhead lights. Around the shooting range, several other trainees were practicing with less powerful pistols—standard Glocks and the occasional compact K2 variants issued to beginner Hunters.

Do-hyun’s awareness remained locked inside Number One’s body. He wasn’t the one in control—he couldn’t physically move the clone or influence his actions—but he could see through the clone’s eyes, feel the pressure in his arms, sense the rapid shifts in breath and heartbeat, and even interpret the calculation of muscle weight shifts. And most importantly, he could hear everything around Number One as if he were there himself.

"Wow! Babe, did you see that?!" a voice piped up from the far end of the room.

Do-hyun’s shared perspective picked up the sound of shuffling boots and a fake cough of confidence. A tall young man in his mid-20s, face shining with sweat, stood grinning in front of a girl with dyed lavender hair and a combat harness far too big for her frame. She leaned against a metal table with a half-empty soda can in hand, nodding gently at her boyfriend’s boastful declaration.

"You’re so cool," she replied in a syrupy voice. "You’re like, the best in here today."

Do-hyun, still seated outside in the park, exhaled through his nose. His real lips curled faintly—not in amusement, but indifference. Inside the clone, however, Number One didn’t react. His attention stayed razor-sharp on the next task.

"I’ll focus on shooting for now," Do-hyun murmured quietly to himself, letting the wind move his hoodie slightly. The metal bench beneath him creaked as he shifted, though his eyes remained half-lidded. In his head, the world inside the shooting range continued.

Another clay disc launched forward.

Number One’s legs spread slightly for balance. His body leaned back by just a centimeter, enough to counter the recoil. The heavy Desert Eagle rose in his hand. The clone’s shoulder tensed. He didn’t track the disc blindly—he calculated the apex curve, felt the rhythm of the disc’s spin, the velocity of its arc. Do-hyun felt the anticipation swelling in Number One’s finger, and when the trajectory met the precise visual sweet spot—

Boom.

The shot cracked out like thunder. Smoke danced briefly from the muzzle, curling in the air before fading.

The target shattered into fragments mid-flight, spinning apart in jagged spirals, its shredded remains raining down like confetti over the padded backdrop.

A silence followed.

Even the guy who had been boasting earlier turned his head, stunned. His eyes were wide as he looked toward the clone who stood emotionless, gun lowered back to his hip.

"That... wasn’t me," the boyfriend muttered under his breath.

His girlfriend blinked slowly, lips parting. "That was the same target you aimed for, right?"

Back on the bench, Kim Do-hyun whispered softly with a tired tone, "You’re welcome, Romeo."

His body slumped forward just a bit more. The cold metal of the bench seeped into his back through the hoodie, but he didn’t care. His mind was still soaked in the sensation of firing that shot. He had felt it—the pulse of the trigger beneath Number One’s finger, the sudden force of the kickback as if it had erupted from his own bones. He even registered the smell, that burnt ozone tang left behind in the pistol’s chamber.

Do-hyun’s mind was growing used to the influx of stimulation. The Familiar Skill didn’t just let him watch through the clones—it made him experience everything. Every ounce of physical fatigue, every heartbeat, every twitch of the shoulder. It was beautiful and brutal.

He could absorb the knowledge this way.

He could steal the practice time of the clones.

It was the most efficient training method he had ever imagined. Let them do the drills. Let them make mistakes. Then learn it all at once through their bodies.

But there was a flaw. And he was only starting to realize it now.

Outside in the real world, his actual body was beginning to suffer. A growing dizziness buzzed beneath his eyes. A kind of mental weight dragged at his spine, like he was swimming through layers of mud. The more he bounced between Number One and Number Two, the more drained he felt. It wasn’t just brain fatigue—it was deeper than that. Like his soul was being stretched too thin between too many bodies.

He let his body slump against the back of the bench again. His legs sprawled out lazily, and his head leaned to the side, away from the sunlight filtering through the park trees. A leaf fell beside him, curling in the breeze. The warm hum of city noise lingered faintly in the background.

"I guess it’s not just copying them," he muttered. "It’s becoming them. At least for a little while."

That was the true cost of Familiar. Full sensory linkage meant full responsibility. Their pain became his. Their exhaustion became his. The recoil they absorbed, the blows they took, even the heat in their lungs after sprinting across training mats—all of it fed directly back to him. There was no safety barrier.

And yet...

He closed his eyes for just a moment, remembering how Number Two had moved earlier.

In the sparring match, Clone Number Two hadn’t hesitated. When that instructor came at him with those punishing blows, Number Two had read him, copied him, and flipped him with a daring technique. Not once did he second guess. Not once did he hold back.

The clones had no fear.

No shame.

They didn’t overthink, or stumble from doubt.

They simply acted.

And that... that was what made them terrifyingly effective.

Do-hyun opened his eyes again, slowly, his gaze settling on the fingers of his right hand. He curled them experimentally. They didn’t feel as steady as they had this morning. But they didn’t shake either. That was something.

"I need to try it myself..." he whispered. "What happens when I perform the same movement now?"

Because now he had a theory.

It wasn’t just about learning by watching.

It wasn’t even about mimicking muscle memory.

It was about transferring experience. Stealing evolution. His body was syncing with its own reflection—the clones—who shared his biology, his stats, his instincts. If he could watch them long enough, maybe... just maybe, he wouldn’t need to practice at all. He could bypass the awkward beginner phase entirely.

He leaned forward.

He stretched his arms, inhaling deeply.

But then, something made him freeze.

A shadow crossed into his field of view. A slender silhouette.

And just as he looked down, still lost in thought, a voice interrupted the quiet.

"Professor?"

His eyes flicked up.

A slender foot stood just beside his, The voice had come from directly in front of him—firm, curious, familiar.

He blinked, dragging his attention from the mental world back to his physical one.

And just like that—

[Episode Ends Here]

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AUTHOR’S NOTE — by Clone 8 🍜 (currently boiling ramen while Master is snoring with earbuds in 🤭)

Hiyaaa~!! This is Little LYTA’s hardworking-clone LYTA Number 7 speaking. While our Master is curled up like a cat listening to weird lo-fi anime beats and dreaming of explosions and statistics, I’ve been sweating over this keyboard to drop today’s spicy Chapter! Look, this training arc’s getting juicier than my ramen. So if you’re feeling even one drop of excitement reading this... don’t be shy!

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