bullyxtreme V.4.122. Angry Clone (4)
V.4.122. Angry Clone (4)
A with Doha gone—no calls, no texts, no hints of where he is. And with each silent night, Merilyn’s worry coils tighter, until it gnaws at every waking hour.Now she sits at lunch with Sung Yi and Park Sulli, absently stirring the straw in her juice, barely hearing the chatter around her. Her mind keeps circling the same fear:
Sung Yi leans forward, brows knitted.
“Merilyn… is something wrong?”
Merilyn lifts her gaze to her two closest friends—the only people she can trust with this dread hollowing her chest.
“Can you come with me to the police station?”
Sulli doesn’t ask .
She only asks, “When?”
A small, shaky smile touches Merilyn’s lips.
“…How about now?”
The two friends share a quick look—then Sung Yi turns and calls out,
“Waiter! Bill, please!”
Half an hour later, their car pulls into the police station parking lot.
Inside, Merilyn reports Doha missing.
At first, the officers treat it like any other worried-wife complaint—until they confirm her identity… and Doha’s.
A national icon.
The nation’s most beloved painter.
Their attitude shifts instantly. Pens come out. A file opens. Questions sharpen.
They take her statement very seriously and promise to begin the search immediately.
As the three women walk out of the station, Merilyn suddenly on her.
She looks back.
At the entrance stands a woman holding a phone to her ear—watching Merilyn too intently, too long.
The woman——waits until Merilyn’s car pulls away before speaking quietly into the phone.
“Sir Shin… Kim Doha’s wife just filed a missing-person report.”
She listens to the reply, nods once, hangs up, and slips into her own car…
Following Merilyn at a distance.
---
In one of the many caverns that twist through the underground world, Doha kneels with a blank sheet spread on the stone floor. Before him, a snarls as Tyke and Park Hanuel restrain it with shields and elemental threads.
Doha paints.
His brush glides with unnatural calm, though he keeps thinking of Merilyn—wondering how worried she must be, how she must be waiting for a message that never comes.
He hadn’t known the expedition would last more than a few days.
And it still isn’t finished.
They must map major cavern before the organisation allows them to surface.
Torai crouches beside him, watching the strokes take shape.
“Why are you painting the Fear Demon?” he asks, puzzled.
Doha doesn’t look up.
“To improve my painting skills,” he says.
He finishes one painting… then immediately begins another.
Each version of the Fear Demon becomes more detailed, more precise, more —and with every stroke, something in Doha sharpens.
His comprehension deepens.
And beneath it, woven through the monstrous forms—
Five paintings later, they move on.
At every rest, he paints again—each time a new mid-stage Fear Demon they’ve slain.
Three days later, deep inside the labyrinth of caverns, Doha feels something shift within him.
His steps into .
And with it, his cultivation rises to another realm.
The cave ahead yawns wider, darker, swallowing their torchlight as the expedition pushes on.
A few days pass in the suffocating silence of the underground world—
—until the .
A blast of , thick as black mist, erupts from the passage ahead.
Before anyone can regain balance, a second tremor rolls through the stone—this one heavy, rhythmic.
*Footsteps.
Dozens.
No—hundreds.*
A floods toward them, screeching through the shadows.
Skylar’s eyes narrow.
“Tyke, defence! Everyone else—attack!”
Doha, positioned at the back, flicks open his case.
With a sweep of his hand, painted beasts leap from parchment into flesh—
*Chimaera goblins.
The armoured knight.
The sound bat.*
They charge forward, roaring, meeting the tide of Fear Demons head-on.
Doha keeps summoning, sheet after sheet, while the magicians ahead exchange spells with claws and fangs.
Fire lashes out.
Negative energy corrodes.
Shields crack and reform.
Minor wounds spread across their team—but together, they finally break the assault.
One last shriek dies, and the cavern falls still.
Lyra exhales shakily, wiping blood from her cheek.
“We can’t push further. Not with this concentration of demons.”
Skylar nods grimly.
“We’ll withdraw. Rest first—then retreat.”
---
Far above, in the world of steel and neon—
One Demon Cave opening is rare.
But tonight—
Fear Demons spill into streets, alleys, buildings—
The magician organisation erupts in chaos.
The extraordinary world, hidden for centuries, is forced into the open as magicians rush to contain the outbreak.
Because it happens late at night, casualties are lower than they could be—
But in the darkness, the creatures spread fast.
---
Merilyn stands with her back against the wall, quietly sipping wine.
The room hums with celebration—her company has secured a major project—but joy feels hollow.
Doha has been missing for a week.
Long Zen approaches her, offering smooth conversation and gentle humour.
For a moment—just a moment—her anxiety lightens.
Until—
The building lights flip to red.
The sound of klaxons echoes through the air.
The AI voice booms overhead:
*“Intruder detected. Intruder detected.”
“Emergency Protocol 225 activated. All exits are now sealed.”*
Metal shutters slam down over doors and windows.
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Merilyn freezes, wine glass trembling in her hand.
“…What’s going on?”
No one answers.
Outside the sealed windows, a begins to spread across the night.
Then—
People scream. A man fumbles with the remote, turning on the nearest television to see what’s happening outside.
The lobby screen flickers—
and the live security feed appears.
A woman shrieks as the first image fills the screen:
A —a lizard standing upright on two legs, jagged scales glinting, claws scraping the ground—
and through the camera lens, its spills directly into their minds.
People stumble back, clutching their chests.
The camera cuts—
More Fear Demons.
More claws.
More glowing eyes.
The room erupts into .
Some collapse to the floor, trembling.
Others scream.
A few stand frozen, unable to breathe.
Han Mira—disguised as a waiter—quickly sets down her tray and snatches her phone, calling Shin Hyun.
After a rapid exchange, she ends the call, marches to the man holding the remote, and .
The moment the screen goes black, the terror in the room begins to thin—like fog burned by sunlight.
Dozens of eyes turn toward her, desperate.
Han Mira lifts her police badge.
“Everyone, calm down. The police have deployed rescue units. Help is coming.”
Questions burst from every side—What are those things? Are they inside the building? Are we safe?—
She answers what she can, avoiding what she can’t.
Then Long Zen steps forward, eyes narrowed.
“Why are you here? And dressed as a waiter? Are you… undercover?”
Han Mira hesitates.
Her gaze shifts toward Merilyn.
“…I came to protect her,” she says at last.
A wave of whispers breaks across the room.
Merilyn’s confusion deepens.
Protect ? Why? For what reason?
“…Why?” she asks softly.
Han Mira exhales.
“Because of your husband.”
The room falls into stunned silence.
Merilyn’s heart lurches.
A painter—yes, famous—but harmless. Missing for a week. Ordinary. Human.
Her voice trembles with hope and fear.
“Do you… know where Doha is?”
“I can’t say,” Mira replies.
Park Sulli shoots her a look, gesturing to the walls where distant , , and echo through the night.
“Are you seriously still keeping secrets now?” she snaps.
Others join in—frightened, angry, desperate.
Long Zen demands, “What are those monsters outside?”
Han Mira stays silent for a moment.
Before she can choose what to reveal—
An explosion shakes the building, followed by gunshots and the dying shrieks of Fear Demons.
She straightens.
“…Rescue has arrived.”
---
Skylar’s team pushes forward, sweat and dirt streaking their faces.
Every few hours, Fear Demons swarm them, but they manage—most enemies are low and mid-rank, corresponding to Official and Senior Magicians.
Doha fights, summons, paints, and endures—but his thoughts churn elsewhere.
He hasn’t recovered his full strength.
And from Lin Yi’s memories, a truth gnaws at him:
*Before the Cataclysm, some beings reached the Fifth Stage Extraordinary—
But they vanished when the world shattered.*
This world once followed the , a path binding cultivators closely to the world’s essence.
When the world broke…
…so did they.
Now a god of fear stirs beneath the earth.
And what gnaws at Doha most is not it is awakening—
but it truly is.
Or
If it is a , then after absorbing enough fear to fully recover, it may no longer slaughter indiscriminately.
Its power comes from , not destruction.
It may feed… and then restrain itself.
But if it is a —
Then, before it breaks its seal, Doha must either:
1. Recover his ,
or
2. Find a way to send this entire back to the main body—
So the main body can descend and save them.
The fear coils in him, cold and tight.
He is ripped from these thoughts by a sound that cracks the cavern:
From within the thick fear-mist, a monstrous emerges.
Its horns scrape the ceiling.
Yellow serpentine eyes lock onto the group.
The mere of it blasts their spirits with terror.
Doha’s spirit space trembles.
Torai collapses to his knees, gasping in helpless panic.
Everyone except Skylar and Lyra is rattled, teeth chattering, minds shaking.
Tyke whispers, voice dry with dread:
Then it's full body steps into view—
a hulking abomination the size of a two-storey building.
Its claws carve grooves into the stone floor.
Skylar’s voice slices through the fear:
“Lyra and I will handle it. The rest of you—fall back and defend yourselves!”
The Top-Grade Fear Demon roars again—
and vomiting from its jaws, , a torrent meant to burn them into ash.
Skylar slams her palm forward.
The ground trembles.
A erupts from the earth, thick and towering, blocking the black fire.
Heat washes across the cavern but does not break through.
Lyra steps forward, her eyes glowing green.
“”
Hundreds of emerald-colored blades materialise in the air—
and plunge into the Fear Demon’s hide.
The creature shrieks, staggering backwards as carve into its flesh.
Black blood pours from its wounds.
And unlike lesser demons—
Skylar and Lyra continue the assault, weaving between fire and claws.
Tyke half-drags, half-supports Torai away.
Doyun and Hanuel retreat further back, keeping spells ready.
Doha remains at the furthest point, calm amidst chaos.
He takes out his painting tools.
Sets the sheet in place.
Channels magic through his brush.
And begins to paint the Top-Grade Fear Demon—
every detail of its rage, its black flame, its monstrous form—
fighting Skylar and Lyra.
Each stroke deepens his comprehension of the
and the subtle threads of the running through the creature.
He paints one… then another… and another.
Dozens.
Each is more precise.
Each is more alive.
Hours blur into days.
---
The battered group finally emerges from the Demon Cave, clothes torn, bodies bleeding.
Floodlights slam into their eyes.
Dozens of barricades surround the site.
Magicians, soldiers, trucks, drones—
a war zone waiting for them.
Their ordeal is over.
But outside…
Fear demons swarm city streets.
Soldiers barricade roads.
Sirens wail in every direction.
From the frantic chatter around him, Doha learns the truth:
His heart seizes.
He snatches his phone from his pocket—
only to find it dead, out of charge.
He asks for a charger—none available.
More importantly, .
Fear energy chokes the airwaves, drowning everything.
“Do you know where Merilyn Seiko is?” he asks an officer.
Blank looks.
He asks again. And again.
No one knows.
Then, Shin Hyun arrives at the barricade.
His face lights with recognition.
“She’s been evacuated to the Royal Swan Hotel. Safe for now.”
That’s all Doha needs.
He bolts from the barricade, pulls open his painting case, and draws out a long scroll.
He slings the case over his shoulder, unrolls the scroll—
A , wings spread wide, stares back at him from ink and paper.
He channels magic into it.
The eagle bursts out of the scroll in a sweep of silver aura.
Gasps erupt around them as it grows—
larger and larger—until its wings scrape the air like thunder.
Doha leaps onto its back without hesitation.
“Go.”
The eagle screams and launches into the sky.
---
Merilyn stands with Sung Yi and Park Sulli, pressed against the window, watching the chaos unfolding below.
Fear demons rampage in the streets.
Magicians and soldiers fight back, spells exploding like fireworks.
Anger and worry churn inside her.
*A year.
A whole year, he hid this from me.*
She understands now.
She even understands .
But she is not a stranger.
She is his wife.
He should have told her.
She grips the window frame…
and then—
A shriek cuts the sky.
All three women look up.
A dives between the buildings, wings slicing air, scattering fear demons like insects.
“Is that—?” Park Sulli gasps.
Merilyn leans forward, breath caught.
Someone stands on its back.
Someone she knows down to the marrow.
The eagle swoops low, Doha leaps off, firing spells at the demons as he drops through the air, and disappears into the hotel entrance.
A moment later, the eagle continues battling in the street—tearing through fear demons—before dissolving into silver light.
The battle outside quiets just enough for sirens and gunfire to settle into a distant hum.
Then—
Someone is at their door.
Doha waits, tension crawling under his skin.
The door finally swings open.
Sulli stands there.
“Hi, Sulli,” he says with a hopeful smile.
She answers with a glare sharp enough to cut steel.
She turns without a word and yells into the suite:
“Merilyn—your husband is here!”
Doha winces inwardly.
He already knew he was in trouble the moment he realised the Demon Cave blocked all phone signals—
And two full days had passed.
Merilyn rushes out of a room.
Her eyes find him—
and relief floods across her face like breaking dawn.
She walks toward him calmly…
But Doha can feel the rolling off her like heat waves.
The moment she reaches him, she throws her arms around him in a fierce hug.
Before he can even raise his hands to hug her back—
She steps away.
Loud. Clean. Merciless.
Doha barely feels it—more like a mosquito bite on his reinforced body—
But he immediately grabs his cheek and like it hurts.
“I deserved that,” he says quietly.
He explains everything.
The Demon Cave.
The unexpected length of the expedition.
The complete loss of phone signal.
Merilyn listens, furious and relieved all at once.
He apologises—
again and again—
until her anger finally unravels.
They return to her room.
Hours later, Doha sits on the bed with Merilyn curled against him.
He gently rubs slow circles on her back.
He lifts his palm.
Two wisps of energy rise from his skin:
—one silver, soft, serene:
—one dark, trembling, corrosive:
They snap and hiss at each other, refusing to mix.
Moon Energy soothes emotion, quiets the mind, turns fear into serenity.
Fear Energy does the opposite—it invades, corrodes, drives minds into hysteria.
He knows the source of Fear Energy:
But the Moon Energy…
What is its origin?
Is it a natural counter-force created by this world?
Or—
A cold dread coils in his chest.
He looks out the window at the moon hanging luminous and silent in the sky.
---
A few minutes later, Doha steps out of the suite, fully dressed.
He walks to the hotel control room.
Magicians coordinate rescue operations there.
He approaches one.
“Can I exchange spells with the Organisation headquarters right now?”
The magician nods.
“As long as you have merit and your identity is verified, spell exchange is allowed.”
Doha bows slightly.
“Thank you.”
Then he turns around, returns briefly to the suite, collects his painting case—
and walks out of the hotel into the war-torn night.
Doha summons , channels energy into the scroll, and rides it through the burning city.
The creature dives and tears through Fear Demons in the streets until Doha reaches the .
He leaps off; the eagle screeches once, battles a swarm of demons outside, then dissolves into painted mist.
Inside, Doha immediately requests a spell exchange.
Because of global emergency protocols, the rules have changed—
As an , he can exchange:
• nine zero-grade spells
• one first-grade spell
He already owns three zero-grade spells, so he selects the remaining six, and for his first-grade spell, he chooses:
He reads through every spell once.
And—
as always—
He masters them instantly.
When the Giant Fireball settles in his mind, a pulse of energy surges through him, forging his spirit a little.
For anyone else, it would be a massive improvement.
For Doha, with a spiritual heart and immortal cultivation foundation, it’s barely a ripple.
He could advance to right there and exchange for:
• eight first-grade spells
• one second-grade spell
…but he stops himself.
He doesn’t want to be seen as a monster.
So he quietly leaves the Headquarters and returns to the hotel to stay near Merilyn.
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In the days that follow, Doha fights Fear Demons on the streets, learns spells, paints, deduces Laws, and stabilises the city.
Time slips by.
One week later—
One month later—
Six months later—
Two years later—
He deliberately refuses to take the final step into , because the advancement would shake the entire world with a magical phenomenon.
Keeping his true power hidden is safer.
Besides, his primary path, the , has already risen to , and that is public knowledge.
He plans to become through painting, not through conventional magician cultivation.
And the world needs that concealment.
Because as Fear Demons rise everywhere, thousands of magicians succumb to terror.
Many become , binding fear demons into their own bodies to gain longevity and power.
The reasons are simple:
Before Great Magician, a magician’s lifespan is no better than a mortal’s.
Even as a Great Magician, life extends only twenty years.
As a Master Magician, sixty years.
Only gain centuries—five hundred years or more.
And very few reach that realm.
In the whole world, the number of Holy Magicians is barely in the two digits.
Faced with death, despair, and no hope of victory, many choose corruption.
They seal a Fear Demon into their bodies.
They gain power and theoretical immortality—
until the fear eventually breaks their minds.
But Doha walks a different path.
---
One night, he lies in bed with Merilyn asleep beside him.
Suddenly—
A roar tears across the sky.
The windows explode inward.
And from the shattered frame,
, crawling into the room like living smoke.