SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery-Chapter 315: The Maze of Lies

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Chapter 315: The Maze of Lies

The rain hadn’t stopped. It pounded on the cracked sidewalks, splattered off rusted fire escapes, and hissed as it slid down the faded bricks of Sector 50’s derelict buildings. The cold clung to me, sharp as broken glass beneath my skin.

Anthony matched my pace, silent but alert. We didn’t speak — words felt cheap against the weight pressing down on my chest.

We were heading to the sewers.

The stench hit me before the concrete steps did — a thick, wet rot mixed with rust and decay. I took it in like a punch to the gut, the smell of the city’s forgotten veins where no sunlight reached.

This was where Hyena had to be.

Grant and I had set the trap perfectly.

Hyena’s voice still echoed in my mind, dripping with rage, "Two hours. Or the kid dies."

I clenched my fists, feeling the cold bite of the band on my wrist. We’d tricked him, making the abandoned sewer network appear to connect to other sectors — a perfect escape route. But in truth, it was a dead end.

A cage.

A maze.

Hyena thought he was running free.

But we were the hunters now.

Anthony shone his flashlight down the steps, the beam cutting through the darkness like a scalpel. The walls were slick, the echo of dripping water constant, endless.

"Boss," Anthony said quietly, "you really think he took Charlie down here?"

I didn’t answer right away. I let Instinct guide me. My gut twisted, cold and sharp. There was no other place that fit Hyena’s twisted logic. The sewers were isolated, claustrophobic — the perfect trap.

"He has to be," I said finally, my voice low. "He thinks it’s a way out, but it’s a cage. A dead end."

Anthony nodded slowly, eyes scanning the darkness. "Let’s hope he doesn’t realize that before we get there."

That thought sank in deeper than I liked.

If Hyena figured it out... if he understood he was trapped... the consequences for Charlie would be catastrophic.

We moved down the damp steps into the sewer tunnel, boots squelching on the wet concrete. The air grew colder, heavier — the thick weight of silence pressing down.

Every drip echoed.

Every breath felt loud.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears as I followed Anthony through the twisting corridors, the flashlight beams revealing graffiti, cracked pipes, and old warning signs peeling from the walls.

I was watching every shadow.

Every corner.

My Instinct skill flared beneath the surface, every nerve screaming that we were close — that the predator was just ahead.

And yet, every step pulled me deeper into that pit of anxiety.

The phone call had rattled me. Hyena’s voice was fury and madness combined.

He was breaking.

That much was clear.

But something about the way he spoke — detached, like Charlie was just a pawn to him — sent a cold shiver through me.

This wasn’t just a game to Hyena anymore.

It was war.

And I was losing.

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The air in the sewer was thick with the damp rot of forgotten things: rusted metal, stagnant water, the sour stench of decay that clung to the walls like a second skin. Faint drips echoed in the vast, shadowed tunnels, each one a slow, deliberate reminder of the world above that had long forgotten this place.

Charlie’s small body trembled beneath the grip of Hyena’s thin, pale hand — a grip that held with quiet but terrifying strength. The boy’s fists banged weakly against the concrete walls, splashing water as his tears traced clean lines down his dirt-smudged cheeks.

"L-let me go..." Charlie whimpered, his voice breaking, a mix of fear and stubborn defiance. "P-please..."

Hyena’s jaw clenched, the thin muscles beneath his skin twitching as he muttered under his breath, eyes flickering with a haunted, distant madness.

"Family... family... family..." he repeated, dragging Charlie further into the gloom. "I’ll make a new family. Again. And again. And again."

Charlie swallowed hard, the words chilling him more than the cold water pooling at his feet. This man, this nightmare, was unraveling — losing himself piece by piece in some dark, fractured obsession.

"R-reynard’s coming," Charlie whispered through cracked lips, clutching desperately at the ragged shirt hanging over Hyena’s arm. "H-he’ll save me..."

Hyena’s eyes flicked down for a split second, the flicker of something like pain—or was it rage?—crossing his pale face. Then it was gone, swallowed by the dark madness curling like smoke inside him.

"Reynard isn’t coming," Hyena hissed, voice low and raw like a blade scraping stone. "He’s not going to save you. No one is."

Charlie tried to pull free again, but the small boy’s arms, so thin and fragile, couldn’t match the strength in Hyena’s grip. His feet slipped in the shallow water, slick and cold, and he stumbled, hitting the ground with a sharp gasp.

"Please..." Charlie’s voice cracked, tears falling freely now.

Hyena didn’t answer. His head tilted down, the sickly yellow light from the flickering overhead bulbs catching the sharp lines of his face, making the hollows beneath his eyes look like black pits.

The man started to pace, dragging Charlie along with him as the tunnel twisted deeper into the underworld — far from the city’s neon lights, far from hope.

They reached a fork where two rusted metal doors sat half-open, their hinges squealing like screams in the stillness.

Hyena pushed one aside, stepping into a narrow corridor that smelled of oil and mildew.

The walls here were scratched, scars of past violence or desperate markings—no one would ever know.

Charlie clung to Hyena’s arm with a trembling grip, the tears blurring his vision.

"Why—why are you doing this?" Charlie’s voice was barely a whisper, broken by sobs.

Hyena stopped, turning slowly to face him. His eyes were wide now, too wide — pupils darting, unblinking.

"Because," he whispered, voice raw, "I don’t have a family."

He swallowed hard, then sneered. "But I’ll fix it. All of it."

The boy shuddered, stepping back against the cold wall, the small space closing in like a trap.

Hyena moved forward, crouching just enough to meet Charlie’s wide eyes.

"You’re going to be my new start, as either the kid or the piece that allows my escape," he said softly, voice dripping with something like twisted tenderness.

Charlie’s breath hitched, a quiet scream caught in his throat.

They pressed forward until the corridor dead-ended against a massive, rusted grate sealed tight.

Hyena struck it twice with a fist, each hit echoing hollowly.

The sound was a reminder: this place wasn’t connected. The tunnels ended here.

"We’re trapped," Hyena muttered, fury flaring like a storm breaking loose inside him.

He spun, wild eyes searching the space, muscles tense like a predator.

Charlie, sensing the danger, shrank back, clutching his knees.

Hyena’s breathing grew ragged, uneven, voice shaking as he cursed the dead end.

"This isn’t over," he snarled, eyes burning with a terrible fire.

He looked down at Charlie.

The boy’s eyes were wide, unblinking, filled with terror.

Hyena’s expression twisted into something hollow — a mask of rage, loss, and something darker, something that made the air itself seem to thicken.

The last thing the tunnels heard was the slow, heavy steps of a man losing control, walking towards the quiet, broken sobs of a child caught in the void.

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