SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery-Chapter 179: The Stops Between

The most uptodate nove𝙡s are published on frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓.

Elliot didn't answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on mine, quiet, unreadable. The train hummed beneath us, a low pulse traveling through steel and breath and unspoken decisions. The silence lingered, not like a pause in speech, but like a weight before a drop.

Then, he finally looked away and exhaled.

"I'll join you," he said.

I blinked.

"But not for the whole thing. Not to the end of whatever war you're heading into. Not the government showdown, or the presidency, or the Cain Protocol, or Evelyn's kidnapping, or the Syndicate, or... whatever else you're tangled in."

My breath caught. But I stayed silent.

"I'll travel with you east," Elliot said, softer now. "To the next stops. My family lives in the last one. It was my original goal, and it's still my current one. If I leave before or you leave before then that's where we part ways."

I nodded. The relief didn't come like I expected. Just a quiet kind of gratitude. A mutual understanding. "That's fair," I said.

Elliot smiled faintly. "You look disappointed."

"Not disappointed," I said. "But... I do have one favor to ask."

He gave a short, incredulous laugh. "You just unloaded the truth about being a multitude of different legends and the future of the entire world, and now you're asking a favor?"

"It's not what you think," I said. "It's not for me."

He tilted his head. "Then for who?"

"For Anika."

His expression changed, subtly. Not suspicion—just curiosity. "What about her?"

"She's... lost, Elliot. Not in the way she moves. But where she's headed." I gestured gently toward the cabin, where she was still seated, silent beneath her blindfold. "Her farm was taken. Her job gone. She has no one she can go back to."

"She still chose to stay," Elliot said.

"She did. And in her simply being there, she's done more than anyone could've asked. But that doesn't mean she has a future if she stays with me."

There was a pause.

I stepped closer. "If you're going home... to your family... could you take her with you?"

Elliot's eyes widened slightly. "You mean—like, take her away from all this?"

"Yes. Give her a place to breathe. Maybe take off that blindfold. Maybe find something more human than classified missions and triggers implanted in her brain."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he surprised me.

"I don't mind," he said.

I blinked.

"She's nice," he said simply. "I've enjoyed traveling with her. I think she'd like my siblings. And my mom always wanted a big household."

Something softened in my chest.

"Thank you," I said.

"You're giving up a lot," Elliot added. "You trust her."

"I do."

"So this means you trust me too."

"It does."

He gave a half-smile. "Then I guess we're even."

That night, the tension lifted like a mask being set aside.

For once, I didn't need to speak in the Jester's clipped, sardonic cadence. I let my own voice carry through the small cabin—rougher than I remembered, quieter than I liked, but mine. I hadn't spoken freely in so long that even I was surprised by the ease of it.

Elliot noticed the change almost instantly. "You sound different," he said.

"Yeah," I said. "It's the voice under the mask."

Anika turned her head toward me. "It suits you better."

We laughed—just a little. The kind of laugh you earn after everything burns and you're still somehow standing in the smoke.

Elliot found a deck of cards in the cabinet. We played a half-baked version of poker that none of us actually knew the rules to. Anika kept winning anyway. Probably because she could just tell when we were bluffing. She grinned slyly every time she laid her hand down.

"You're cheating," Elliot muttered.

"I'm blindfolded."

"You're cheating while blindfolded."

"I consider that a skill."

We passed the hours like that. Jokes. Quiet stories. Nothing about the Syndicate. Nothing about war or the world president or the Cain Protocol. Just moments.

Elliot helped me unwrap some of the old bandages and apply new ones. My ribs still screamed whenever I leaned too far, but the pain was getting dull now to the point where it was manageable. His hands were steady, surprisingly so for someone who hadn't done this much before.

"You should've gone into field work," I muttered.

"I hate needles."

"Still. You're not bad."

He grinned. "Maybe I just care. Though, it's not like the system ever gave me a chance to have a job like that."

I met his eyes. There was no need to say anything else.

Anika sat across from us, sipping tea Elliot had somehow scavenged from the supply cabinet. She hadn't said much since the favor had been asked.

"You okay with all this?" I asked her.

She nodded. "It'll be strange. But... I'm tired of being a weapon."

"You won't be," Elliot said. "Not with my family. You'll be... I don't know. An older sister, maybe. Or a cryptic cousin."

She smiled.

That was enough for now.

We fell asleep late.

I stayed up the longest, lying on the seat with my coat draped over me, listening to the rhythm of the train, the soft breathing of two people who had no reason to trust me but did anyway.

It was a strange kind of peace.

Not safety.

But peace.

Like the kind that comes when you've told the truth and survived it.

The next morning, I was the first awake.

The sun hadn't fully risen yet, but the light was creeping in slow, pale streaks through the slats in the blinds. I stood, quietly, and walked to the end of the cabin.

The train continued its slow, relentless journey east.

I looked out the window.

The land beyond was empty, save for a scattering of buildings and the long sprawl of forgotten roads.

Evelyn was close.

The closer I got, the more my breath felt like it was being held hostage.

I'd tried not to think about her too much.

About what I'd find.

If she'd still be herself. If she'd even be alive.

But now we were almost there.

One stop. Two at most.

I thought about heading there now—right away.

She was waiting. Probably afraid. Perhaps even bleeding.

But I was half a man with nothing but a knife and two days' worth of protein bars in my pack. No explosives. No tools. No maps. Just instinct.

Maybe instinct wasn't enough anymore.

I looked down at my hand—healing, but still wrapped.

If I went now, I might win.

But if I stopped first—just briefly—to gather what I needed, I might survive.

The window fogged slightly from my breath.

So close.

One decision between me and her.

Go now...

Or do a pit stop first.

I honestly didn't know the answer.