SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery-Chapter 323: Unwelcome Reunion

The figure that emerged from the shadows of the park’s evening light made my blood run cold. Even with the extensive scarring that covered every visible inch of his skin—twisted, pale lines that spoke of unimaginable pain—I recognized him immediately. It was all in the way he moved, that calculating gleam present in his eyes, the slight tilt of his head that suggested he was always three steps ahead of everyone else.

It was Mark. Subject 3834.

My body tensed instinctively, every survival instinct screaming at me to get Sienna away from here. Without thinking, I stepped forward, creating distance between her and the unpredictable man who was one of my greatest allies and one of my worst enemies.

"Rey?" Sienna’s voice was soft, confused, but I could hear the underlying worry. She’d picked up on my sudden tension.

Mark noticed my protective stance immediately, and instead of the anger or offense I expected, he remained calm. No...not just calm. His scarred features softened into something resembling understanding.

"Easy, Reynard," he said, his voice carrying that same unsettling calm I remembered from our last encounter in Europe. "I’m not here to hurt anyone. Especially not her."

His eyes flicked to Sienna, and I saw something almost like sympathy there. It made my skin crawl in a way I didn’t understand.

"I’ve switched my job to an A-Rank Janitor," Mark continued, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "If it makes you feel safer."

I didn’t need to use Scan. My Psychological Insight and Lie Detection skills were already working, analyzing his micro-expressions, his body language, the subtle tells that would reveal deception. Everything was telling me that he told the truth about his job change, at least.

But that didn’t make me feel any safer. I could beat him in a fight and Sienna had a good shot as well. If we both fought him we’d likely pummel him. Despite this, Instinct was telling me that he was more dangerous than I could imagine right now.

"How did you get out of Europe?" I asked, my voice carefully controlled. I kept my position between him and Sienna, ready to move if needed.

Mark’s smile was thin, almost amused. "It took a couple of connections, but I eventually figured it out. Amazing what doors open when you have the right... leverage."

The way he said it made my stomach turn. I had a feeling I knew exactly what kind of leverage he was talking about.

"And Connor?" I asked, though part of me already knew the answer.

Mark’s expression shifted, and for a moment, his smile widened into something genuinely terrifying. It was the look of a man who had gotten exactly what he wanted, and had enjoyed every second of it.

"Director Connor is... no longer a concern," he said, his voice taking on a sing-song quality that made my skin crawl. "He experienced a very thorough education about the consequences of his actions."

I felt Sienna shift behind me, and I caught her sharp intake of breath. Even without the full context, she could read the implications in Mark’s tone.

"What do you want?" I asked, cutting straight to the point. There was no use dancing around it—Mark wouldn’t have sought me out unless he had an agenda.

"The same thing I’ve always wanted," he said, his expression returning to that unsettling calm. "To convince you to join me. To help me build something better."

I felt my jaw clench. We’d had this conversation before, and it never ended well.

"You know my answer. It hasn’t changed." I said.

"Do I?" Mark tilted his head, studying me with those calculating eyes. "Look around you, Reynard. Look at what this world has become. The rank system has created a hierarchy that treats people like commodities. The strong prey on the weak, and the governments of the world not only allow it—they profit from it."

"So your solution is to put us at the top?" I shot back. "To become the very thing you claim to hate?"

Mark’s laugh was bitter. "At least we’d be honest about it. At least we’d have the power to actually change things. You and I, we’re not like them. We have job titles, abilities that set us apart. We could reshape this world into something that actually works."

"By becoming dictators?"

"By taking our rightful place!" Mark’s voice rose, passion bleeding through his controlled facade. "Why should we bow to people who are beneath us in every measurable way? Why should we pretend that someone with a C-Rank administrative job has any right to make decisions that affect millions of lives?"

I felt my hands ball into fists. "Because rank doesn’t determine worth. Because the moment we start thinking we’re better than everyone else, we become the problem."

"And yet here you are," Mark said, gesturing around the park, "You’re living in luxury, in an A-Rank apartment, buying expensive gifts, accepting the worship of the masses. You don’t even do any exams for qualifications anymore, you simply go to whatever job you want and do it. Tell me, Reynard, what’s the difference between what you’re doing and what I’m proposing?"

The question hit harder than I wanted to admit. I thought about the shopping trip, the way people stared at us, the deference of the shop owners. Was I really any different?

"The difference," I said slowly, "is that I’m working to tear down the hierarchy, not cement my place at the top of it."

Mark’s smile returned, but it was sad now, almost pitying. "And how’s that working out for you? Any real change you manage to achieve in your lifetime—even if you somehow create absolute harmony between ranks—will be temporary. A decade after your death, maybe a century if you’re lucky, everything will go back to the way it was. People will forget. The powerful will consolidate their control again. Your noble sacrifice will be nothing more than a footnote in history."

His words cut deep because part of me knew he was right. Change was hard to maintain, especially after the person driving it was gone.

"At least I’ll have tried," I said.

"You could do more than try," Mark countered. "You could ensure lasting change. You could build something that can’t be torn down."

I was about to respond when something occurred to me. "You know you’re not the only one with a job title, right?"

Mark’s expression shifted, curiosity replacing the passionate intensity. "What do you mean?"

"The girls," I said, gesturing slightly toward Sienna. "All of them have job titles. Sienna, Camille, Alexis, Evelyn. And every NovaCore subject has one too."

For the first time since he’d appeared, Mark looked genuinely surprised. His eyes widened slightly, and I saw him studying Sienna with new interest.

"I knew about NovaCore," he said slowly. "Obviously. Though I doubt many remain at all. But them?" He looked at Sienna with something that might have been sympathy. "I’m sorry for whatever they put you through."

Sienna’s hand found my arm, her grip tight. I could feel her trembling slightly.

Mark’s surprise faded quickly, replaced by his earlier determination. "It doesn’t matter," he said. "If anything, it proves my point. Those with job titles should be at the top. We’re the ones with real power, real ability. Why should the governments of the world—why should the World President—be people who support this hierarchy while being demonstrably inferior to us?"

"Because power doesn’t come from rank," I said. "It comes from the consent of the governed. From trust. From—"

"From fear," Mark interrupted. "From the ability to enforce your will. Everything else is just pretty words."

We stared at each other across the darkening park, our two fundamentally different worldviews clashing in the space between us. I could see the passion in his eyes, the absolute certainty that he was right. It was terrifying because I could also see the intelligence behind it. There was a lot of carefully constructed logic that had led him to his conclusions.

"You’re not going to convince me," I said finally.

"Not today," Mark agreed. "But I’m patient."

He was quiet for a moment, then tilted his head with renewed interest. "Speaking of which, are you going to the United Nations meeting in two months?"

I hesitated. The meeting wasn’t supposed to be confidential, but I doubt my participation was publicly announced. Regardless, Mark had ways of knowing things he shouldn’t. "Yes," I said finally.

Mark’s smile returned, but it was different now—anticipatory, almost predatory. "Good. I won’t bother you during the meeting. In fact, I think it’ll be educational for you."

"What do you mean?"

"You’ll see just how much of scum the governments of the world really are," Mark said, already beginning to back away into the shadows. "Maybe then you’ll understand why compromise isn’t an option."

He paused at the edge of the tree line, his scarred face catching the last rays of sunlight. "The offer stands, Reynard. It always will. When you finally see the world for what it really is, you’ll know where to find me."

And then he was gone, vanishing into the shadows as silently as he’d appeared.

I stood there for a long moment, my heart pounding, every nerve on edge. The peaceful evening had been shattered, replaced by the familiar tension that always came with Mark’s presence.

"Rey?" Sienna’s voice was small, uncertain. "Was that Mark? He looks far more injured than I remember."

I turned to look at her, seeing the worry in her eyes, the way she was holding herself. She’d been through enough trauma—she didn’t need to be dragged into this mess.

"Yeah," I said carefully. "It was Mark."

"He’s a NovaCore subject Rey," she said, and I could hear the fear creeping into her voice. "He has a job title. You should treat him with caution."

I reached out, gently taking her hands in mine. They were trembling slightly, and I felt a surge of protective anger toward Mark for disrupting what had been a perfect evening.

"He won’t hurt you," I said firmly. "I won’t let him."

Sienna looked up at me, searching my face. "What was he talking about? He acted like you’ve both had this conversation before."

I hesitated, then nodded. There was no point in lying to her. I didn’t want the girls to know about these conversations.

"Yeah we had a conversation in the past regarding this. He has a very different view of how the world should work," I said. "He thinks people like us—people with job titles—should be in charge of everything."

"Like a dictatorship," Sienna said quietly.

"Exactly."

She was quiet for a moment, processing this. Then she squeezed my hands gently.

"I’m glad that you’re nothing like him," she said with quiet conviction. "Whatever he thinks about you, whatever he wants from you—you’re nothing like him."

The certainty in her voice helped ease some of the tension in my chest. This was why I fought against Mark’s vision, why I couldn’t accept his offer no matter how logical his arguments might seem. It wasn’t about power or control—it was about protecting people like Sienna, people who deserved to live their lives free from the machinations of those who thought themselves superior.

"Thank you," I said, pulling her closer. "For trusting me."

She leaned into me, and I felt some of the fear leave her posture. "Always," she whispered.

We stood there in the gathering dusk, holding each other as the first stars began to appear overhead. The park was quiet now, the other couples and families having headed home, leaving us alone with our thoughts and the weight of what had just happened.

"The UN meeting," Sienna said eventually. "He seemed very interested in that."

I nodded grimly. Mark’s parting words echoed in my mind, his promise that the meeting would be "educational." Whatever he was planning, whatever he expected me to see there, I had a feeling it wouldn’t be pleasant.

"I’ll have to be careful," I said. "He’s planning something."

"Do you think he’s right?" Sienna asked. "About all the governments present being corrupt?"

I considered the question carefully. "Some of them, probably. But that doesn’t mean his solution is the right one. Corruption is a human problem, not a rank problem. Putting people with job titles in charge doesn’t guarantee they’ll be any better—it just guarantees they’ll be harder to remove if they become corrupt."

Sienna nodded thoughtfully. "He seemed very sure of himself."

"That’s what makes him dangerous," I said. "He’s not evil for the sake of being evil. He genuinely believes he’s right. That makes him much more persuasive, much more willing to justify terrible things in service of his vision."

We walked slowly back toward the mall, our earlier joy replaced by a more somber mood. The shopping bags felt heavier in my hands, the weight of the evening’s revelations settling over us.

"Rey?" Sienna said as we reached the edge of the park.

"Yeah?"

"Whatever happens at that meeting, whatever he wants you to see—don’t let it change you. Don’t let him win."

I looked down at her, seeing the fierce determination in her eyes despite her gentle nature. This was the strength I’d fallen in love with—not the physical power of her A-Rank job, but the moral certainty that let her see through to the heart of things.

"I won’t," I promised. "I have too much to lose."

She smiled at that, and for a moment, the shadow of Mark’s presence lifted. We were just two people walking home from a date, carrying shopping bags and sharing quiet conversation. Normal. Human.

But as we walked, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. Mark had made his intentions clear, and the UN meeting loomed ahead like a storm on the horizon. Whatever he was planning, whatever he wanted me to see, I had a feeling it would test everything I believed about the world and my place in it.

The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it only strengthened my resolve. I had people to protect now—Sienna, Camille, Alexis, Evelyn. I had a future to build that didn’t involve ruling over others or accepting their worship.

Mark could keep his vision of a world ruled by the strong. I would continue fighting for something better, something that didn’t require stepping on others to achieve.

Even if it meant standing against someone who had once been an ally.

Even if it meant facing whatever waited for me at that UN meeting.

Even if it meant accepting that some battles would never truly end.

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