SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery-Chapter 347: Hunted for Once

The sun was beginning its descent toward the horizon as I walked back from the restaurant, casting long shadows across the sidewalk that stretched and shifted with each step. The meeting with Mark had left me oddly satisfied rather than troubled. Seeing him reduced to scarred cynicism had only reinforced how far I’d moved beyond the small-minded thinking that had once seemed so compelling.

It wouldn’t be the last I saw of him, I was certain of that. Mark had always been the type to hold grudges, and his current circumstances suggested he’d developed an even sharper edge to his resentments. But in all honesty, whatever he chose to do next was essentially meaningless now. He represented a Chapter of my life that was definitively closed, a way of thinking about power and change that I’d outgrown completely.

The real work lay ahead. I had skills to develop, capabilities to maximize, connections to strengthen. Enhanced Copy would be available again tomorrow, and I’d already had an idea of what skills I want to copy from others. Enhanced Absorb could be used whenever I found someone willing to teach me their expertise, but for now I’d continue learning everything Alexis knows. In all honesty, the steady progression of ability development was becoming its own form of meditation. Each new skill acquired, each level increased, each capability refined brought me closer to being able to effectively challenge the systems that limited human potential.

Eventually, Anthony or Evelyn would contact me about traveling to other countries. The Geneva endorsement had been just the beginning. Eventually, I’ll be building broader international support which would require personal diplomacy, careful relationship building, and probably more formal presentations to various government officials. But there was no rush. It had been less than a week since my return, and the world wasn’t expecting immediate dramatic action.

For now, I could focus on becoming stronger, more capable, more prepared for whatever challenges—

The spike of alarm from my Instinct skill was so sudden and intense that it felt like being struck by lightning. The sensation wasn’t just a warning. It was a scream of danger, of absolute terror, so overwhelming that my nervous system reacted before my conscious mind could process what was happening.

I dropped into a crouch, my body moving with reflexes honed by multiple combat-related skills, just as something whistled through the air where my head had been a fraction of a second before. The crack of displaced air was sharp and distinctive, and the small chip that appeared in the brick wall beside me left no doubt about what had just happened.

Someone had just tried to kill me.

My head snapped toward the source of the shot, and I saw a black van parked roughly fifty meters away, its heavily tinted windows making it impossible to see inside. The barrel of a pistol was just disappearing back into the vehicle, and my enhanced reflexes caught the subtle shift of the van’s position that indicated the shooter was adjusting for a follow-up shot.

After all, no pistol shoots only once.

I was already moving as the next bullet sparked off the concrete where I’d been crouching. Superior Endurance flooded my body with energy while Muscle Reinforcement enhanced my physical capabilities beyond normal human limits. Reflex Calibration helped me process incoming threats faster than conscious thought, and Muscle Optimization ensured that every movement was precisely calculated for maximum efficiency.

The van’s engine roared to life as I sprinted toward the nearest alley, more gunshots echoing behind me. I could hear bullets impacting walls, shattering windows, ricocheting off metal surfaces as whoever was in that vehicle tried to track my movement. The shots were coming fast and frequent. It was either multiple shooters or someone with serious firepower and no concern about attracting attention.

I took a sharp right turn into a narrow alley between two office buildings, using the confined space to break line of sight while I tried to track the van’s position by engine noise. The vehicle was following, which meant this wasn’t just a drive-by shooting—it was a coordinated attempt to hunt me down.

Physical Recovery Efficiency kept me from accumulating fatigue as I maintained my sprint, while Instinct continued to provide split-second warnings about optimal routes and potential threats. A dumpster provided cover as I vaulted over a chain-link fence, and the sound of the van having to navigate around the alley’s entrance bought me precious seconds of distance.

But they weren’t giving up. The engine noise grew louder again as they found an alternate route, and I could hear tires squealing as they tried to cut off my escape. These weren’t random criminals or opportunistic attackers—the coordination and persistence suggested professional operators with specific instructions to eliminate their target.

I emerged from the alley system onto a busier street, hoping that civilian presence might discourage further shooting, but the van appeared at the intersection behind me almost immediately. The tinted windows made it impossible to identify the occupants, but the barrel of a rifle was now protruding from the passenger side.

Rifle meant longer range and more stopping power. I needed better cover.

Another sharp turn took me down a side street lined with parked cars, each vehicle providing temporary shelter as I zigzagged between them. Bullets shattered windshields and punched through metal, the shooters apparently unconcerned about collateral damage or civilian casualties. The sound of car alarms began filling the air as their gunfire triggered security systems.

My apartment building appeared in the distance, its familiar outline offering the promise of security and backup. The A-Rank residential complex came with professional security, reinforced construction, and multiple layers of protection that would make it significantly harder for attackers to operate freely.

But I had to reach it first.

The van was maintaining pursuit despite my erratic route, which suggested the occupants had some method of tracking my movement beyond simple visual contact. Radio communication with spotters, drone surveillance, or possibly even System given tracking skills. Whatever the method, they were staying close enough to maintain pressure without losing me entirely.

A bullet grazed my left shoulder, the impact spinning me slightly but not causing serious damage thanks to my enhanced physical resilience. The near miss triggered another spike from Instinct, warning me that the shooters were adjusting their aim and getting closer to lethal accuracy.

I put on a final burst of speed, drawing on every enhancement I possessed to cover the remaining distance to my building. Superior Endurance felt like having an unlimited energy supply, while my optimized muscle systems delivered power and coordination far beyond normal human capability.

The building’s security checkpoint came into view, and I could see the guards beginning to react to the sound of gunfire. Professional security personnel with proper training and equipment, finally providing some measure of backup in this nightmare situation.

"Shooters in the black van!" I shouted as I sprinted past the checkpoint, not slowing down to explain further. "Multiple armed individuals, attempted assassination!"

The guards immediately went into defensive positions, drawing weapons and activating emergency protocols. Behind me, I heard the van’s engine suddenly cut off, followed by the sound of rapid acceleration in the opposite direction. Whatever the attackers’ orders were, they apparently didn’t include engaging professional security in a sustained firefight.

But I wasn’t taking any chances. The elevator represented a potential trap—confined space, limited escape options, vulnerability to tampering or sabotage. Instead, I headed for the emergency stairwell. Thankfully my skill made the prospect of climbing seventy-plus flights of stairs manageable rather than impossible.

The stairwell was empty and secure, its reinforced construction providing protection while I made my way upward. Each flight passed in a blur of controlled movement. I was handling the exertion without difficulty while my mind raced through the implications of what had just happened.

Someone had just tried to kill me. Not capture, not intimidate, not send a message—kill. The shooting had been professional, coordinated, and persistent. These weren’t random criminals or political extremists acting on impulse. This was an organized assassination attempt by people with resources, training, and specific intelligence about my location and movements.

The timing was suspicious as well. Less than an hour after my meeting with Mark, I’d been targeted by professional killers. Coincidence was possible, but it seemed more likely that the two events were connected somehow. Either Mark had set me up deliberately, or someone had been monitoring our meeting and used it as an opportunity to strike.

Floor after floor passed as I climbed, my endurance making the ascent feel almost effortless despite the distance involved. But with each flight, the weight of realization was settling over me like a heavy blanket.

Geneva had made me a target. The international endorsement, the media coverage, the challenge to established power structures—all of it had painted a bullseye on my back that apparently someone was ready to act on.

I reached the penthouse level and fumbled for my keys, hands steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through my system. The door opened smoothly, revealing the familiar sanctuary of my home, and I stepped inside before closing and locking it behind me.

Only then did I allow myself to collapse.

It wasn’t exhaustion—my body could have handled hours more of that kind of exertion. It was something deeper and more unsettling than simple fatigue. A sense of dread that seemed to emanate from somewhere in my chest, spreading outward until it felt like my entire body was vibrating with fear and anxiety.

Someone wanted me dead. Not just opposed to my political goals or concerned about my growing influence, but actively committed to ending my life. The bullets that had missed me by inches hadn’t been warnings or intimidation tactics—they’d been genuine attempts to kill me on a public street in broad daylight.

I sat on the floor with my back against the door, breathing heavily as the reality of the situation settled over me. The skills I’d been so carefully developing, the relationships I’d been building, the plans I’d been making—all of it was predicated on the assumption that I’d survive long enough to implement them.

But someone had just demonstrated that my survival wasn’t guaranteed. That there were people with the resources and motivation to eliminate me before I could achieve any of the changes I was working toward.

The dread wasn’t just about the immediate danger, though that was certainly part of it. It was about the broader implications. If professional assassins were already targeting me, what did that mean for the people around me? For Alexis, Evelyn, Sienna, Camille? For Anthony and anyone else who’d associated themselves with my cause?

I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing, drawing on the Patience skill to maintain some measure of calm in the face of overwhelming anxiety. But even that enhanced emotional control couldn’t completely suppress the fear that was now a permanent part of my reality.

Someone wanted me dead, and they’d just proven they were willing and able to act on that desire.

The real question was: who?