SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery-Chapter 220: A Monster’s Legacy

The name still hovered in the air like smoke over kindling.

Hugo Vale.

It landed like a curse, heavy and ancestral. The kind of name that didn’t need a title to command a room. It was its own sentence.

I raised my hands slowly—not in surrender, not in fear—but to freeze the moment. To hold the silence just a second longer, like maybe if I didn’t breathe, I wouldn’t have to say it.

But lies rot faster in the heat.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "He’s my father."

The air seemed to thin.

Subject 3830 didn’t move. But everything in her changed. Her stance shifted. Her spine locked. Her breathing went shallow. Her fingers tightened on the blade, not raised—but ready.

Behind me, the group coiled tight as a spring.

Sienna’s hand slid from my leg, fingers brushing the fabric of her belt—where I knew we kept the rusted utility blade we’d salvaged from the crash. Not her first choice, but sharp enough to leave a scar.

Camille stood like a statue carved out of threat and silk. Her expression hadn’t changed, but her weight had shifted to her back foot—ready to lunge.

Alexis moved. Just a step. Not overt. But enough to block my right side if a blade came from that angle.

Evelyn’s head tilted.

Blindfolded.

Silent.

But focused.

Even without her eyes, she could smell the tension in the air.

And me? I sat in the center of it all—legs stiff, breath thin, pain spiderwebbing through my ribs. My System still dead. My skills locked away. My Job Titles inert.

If she moved, if she actually struck—

I wasn’t going to survive it.

I wasn’t going to be able to stop it.

I raised my voice, careful not to let it shake. "He left when I was young. I barely remember the sound of his voice. No warning. No explanation. He vanished into whatever black hole spawned the NovaCore experiments."

Her eye twitched.

"Convenient," she spat.

The word landed like a slap.

"Man disappears, leaves his perfect little son behind, and then that son shows up with the exact Job Title we were broken trying to survive?"

I flinched. Couldn’t help it.

And she saw it. She was built to see it.

"You expect me to believe you just happened to get it?" she asked. Her voice was rough now—like gravel torn from a collapsed ceiling. "That you stumbled into SSS-Rank Jobmaster like it was a vending machine prize?"

I didn’t respond right away. Not because I was afraid. Because I knew no version of the truth would sound like one.

"I didn’t ask for it," I said finally. "It appeared one day. Randomly. A System notification. That was it."

She scoffed. Low and bitter. "Sure. Because the System just hands ultimate authority to fatherless boys who think sincerity is an alibi."

The knife dipped half an inch.

Still not lifted.

But closer to its answer.

"You know what happened after Subject 3840 got her title?" she said, quieter now. "They shut the project down. Said we’d reached saturation. That the data was complete. That the rest of us could be... thrown away."

Her gaze was steel. Her voice iron.

"You got Jobmaster. Didn’t you?"

I nodded.

She took one step forward. The light caught the edge of the blade.

"3840’s version was D-Rank. Couldn’t hold more than three jobs. Her organs failed after two weeks of syncing. And they still said it was a success."

My mouth went dry.

She tilted her head. "And yours?"

I hesitated.

Her voice darkened. "How many do you hold? Seven?"

"...Yeah," I admitted.

Her breath caught.

Her grip shifted. Not attack. Instinct.

"And with more skills than I can count."

"You’re right."

She stared.

And in that stillness, the heat finally cracked the air.

"That’s not an accident," she whispered. "That’s not pity. That’s a goddamn upgrade. That’s them getting what they wanted."

Silence.

"You’re not a survivor," she said. "You’re the result."

The words landed in my chest like anchors.

She didn’t see me as lucky.

She saw me as the endpoint.

The one they stopped the tests for.

The one her friends were melted down to make.

"I didn’t earn it," I said. "I didn’t even know what it was. I didn’t train. I didn’t bleed. I got a ping at midnight and suddenly I was Jobmaster."

3830 laughed.

One sound.

A bark of disbelief, shredded down to the bone.

"The rest of us bled from our eyes. We screamed in flooded tanks while they changed our brain chemistry mid-sequence. We passed out from pain. We were begging them to stop."

Her voice cracked.

"And one night... they did."

The fire snapped loudly, like it agreed with her.

She took another step forward.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Not without falling.

Camille’s weight shifted again.

Sienna stood now—half between me and 3830.

Alexis didn’t blink.

Evelyn’s staff tilted a degree toward the center.

And I understood it then.

I wasn’t the only one who had something to lose.

They were willing to fight for me.

Even if I couldn’t fight for myself.

I looked up at 3830.

She wasn’t a monster.

She was what was left after one built her.

"I don’t blame you," I said, voice quieter now. "If our positions were reversed, I wouldn’t believe me either."

She didn’t react.

She just kept staring.

Like the verdict hadn’t arrived yet.

I tried again. "I don’t know why I got the title. Maybe the System saw my name and slotted me in. Maybe it picked up on something they programmed into me without ever telling my mother."

I exhaled.

"Maybe I am the endpoint of your suffering. I don’t know. But I promise you—whatever I am, I didn’t ask to be made from your ghosts."

Something flickered in her eye.

Not softness.

But pause.

I saw her then—not as a threat. Not even as a mistake.

But as the evidence of everything my name had broken before it gave me power.

"I want to make this right. I’m even going against the government who did this to you." I said.

She tilted her head again.

"I don’t think I can believe that."

The words were final.

Not cruel. Just factual.

She stepped closer.

And this time—everyone behind me moved.

I felt the tremor in Sienna’s wrist. The coiled readiness in Camille’s calves. Alexis’s inhale through her nose, slow and prepped.

Even Evelyn’s staff slid forward across the sand, barely audible.

But 3830 didn’t draw the knife.

She just lifted it.

Pointed it.

At me.

Her voice was steady. Clear.

"But...If you really had nothing to do with him..."

A pause.

"You’ll tell me."

"Tell you what?"

She leaned in. Closer than breath. Blade not touching—but ready. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

"How you got your Job Title."

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