SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery-Chapter 231: The Echo of Three

The first breath I took after the fight was the deepest I’d had in hours. No shallow gasps, no pain riding up my ribs—just full lungs and a quiet that didn’t feel like a warning anymore.

The jungle had exhaled with me. Slowly. Finally.

My System hummed through every limb, steady and warm, like marrow reknitting itself around a new core. It wasn’t just back—it was alive inside me. The familiar weight of my skills settled into place like an old uniform. A little tighter than I remembered, but mine all the same.

I knelt beside Camille first. Her curls were matted with blood and sweat, her breath shallow. She raised her good arm before I could speak.

"Before you say anything dramatic," she muttered, "just know I’m fine. My dramatic quota is full after watching your ’I’ll die in the dirt before I submit’ monologue."

I let out something halfway between a laugh and a groan. "Glad to know you were listening."

"Hard not to when the jungle practically paused for you," she said. Then, more softly, "You okay?"

"I am now." And I meant it. Every part of me felt like it had been cracked open and rebuilt stronger.

Behind me, Alexis coughed, clutching her ribs as she tried to stand. "Did you have to hit him that hard?" she wheezed. "Pretty sure the ground still remembers it."

"He reached for a gun," I said, already walking toward her. "I just made sure he wouldn’t get the chance again."

She sat back down with a wince. "Still. Overkill."

"And appreciated," Camille added from the dirt.

For the first time since the crash, I let myself smile—not the strained kind, not some hollow one. This one was real. Because for a moment—just a breath—everything felt like it might actually be okay.

A rustle broke through the brush.

My body tensed, instinct ready to fire. I spun toward it—

—and relaxed.

3830 stepped through first, wiping blood from her fingers like she was drying rain off a coat. Her expression unreadable. Her pace steady.

Behind her came Sienna, limping with stubborn dignity and a split down her temple that was already caked in dirt. She met my eyes with a nod.

Last was Evelyn wearing her blindfold, quiet as always. She wasn’t limping. She wasn’t bleeding. But something about the way she moved told me she’d spent everything in her reserves just staying upright.

We were back.

All three groups.

The echo of three battles, now converging in the center.

"Your arm’s dislocated," I told Camille gently.

"I know," she said, scowling.

I crouched beside her, motioning Alexis over. "I’ll hold her steady."

"Wait—" Camille started.

"No countdown. On three," I said.

"You just said—"

"One."

"Reynard, don’t you dare—"

Two.

Alexis reset her shoulder.

Camille screamed and swung at me with her good hand.

"You bastard," she hissed through gritted teeth, eyes watering.

"You’ll thank me when you can use it again."

Sienna plopped down beside us with all the grace of a tree falling. "You know, on second thought I think I’m good. I don’t have any injuries."

Alexis was already kneeling beside her, checking the scrape along her leg with a makeshift splint in hand. "This was deeper than I thought. Hold still."

"It’s nothing," Sienna muttered, but she didn’t move.

Evelyn lowered herself into the dirt without a word. Her fingers were trembling slightly. I watched her for a second longer than the others. Not in worry. Not even curiosity.

Just respect.

She was always the last one to ask for help, but the first to give it.

3830 stood apart. Still upright. Still observing. She didn’t limp. Didn’t bleed. Didn’t look hurt at all.

Just distant.

"You okay?" I asked her.

She shrugged and flicked something red off her sleeve.

"I’m not the one who got thrown into a tree."

Camille scoffed. "Oh yeah? So what happened to yours?"

Sienna answered before 3830 could. "Ours is unconscious. Caught in one of the barbed traps."

"He’s not waking up for a while," Evelyn added quietly. "Not safely, anyway."

Then, casually, like she was commenting on the weather, 3830 said:

"Mine’s dead."

Silence rippled out.

Camille glanced away.

Alexis stiffened.

Sienna just exhaled.

I looked at her. Really looked.

She didn’t flinch. Not from saying it. Not from the weight of what it meant.

"Wasn’t worth the resources," she said. "And he knew what we were."

There was no pride in her voice. No shame either.

Just fact.

The kind of fact that reminded me we didn’t all come out of NovaCore the same way. Some of us were burned.

Others learned how to burn back.

We regrouped near a tree whose roots coiled like a throne. I stood in front of the scout I’d knocked out—still slumped, still breathing.

"What do we do with him?" Alexis asked.

"Leave him?" Sienna offered.

"Too risky," Camille said, adjusting her sling. "He wakes up, he runs. We’re back to square one."

Evelyn knelt beside the bindings I’d reinforced with jungle rope and metal wire from a broken canteen. She didn’t say much—but her fingers worked with quiet efficiency.

"If he’s trained, he’ll lie," I said. "But he’ll still have cracks."

"We interrogating him?" Camille asked. "Like—real interrogation?"

No one answered.

I studied the scout’s face. Dirt-streaked. Jaw crooked from the punch. Breathing steady, but slow.

He’d survive.

"3830," I said.

She looked up.

"You can see skills, right?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You know I can."

"Just confirming."

I stepped closer to the scout. My hand hovered an inch from his neck, where the pulse beat faint and fast. The jungle around us was still again—but this time, it wasn’t because of fear.

It was anticipation.

The System in me flared.

[SPECIAL SKILL — COPY: Ready for Use]

[Copy Skill: Lie Detection (Lv. 1)]

[Would you like to proceed?]

Yes.

I didn’t say it aloud.

I didn’t need to.

The moment my consent was given, the skill burned through my system like a breath of static caught behind the eyes.

[SKILL ACQUIRED: LIE DETECTION (Lv. 1)]

A subtle shift in my perception—not visual, not audible. Just... intuitive. Like a thread pulling tight whenever the air around someone bent wrong.

The scout groaned and shifted.

Woke.

His eyes fluttered. Blinking. Confused. Then panic—quick and sharp.

"Why am I alive?" he rasped.

I crouched in front of him.

"Because I need answers," I said. "And because Camille would’ve been mad if I let you bleed all over her shoes."

Camille scoffed somewhere behind me.

I didn’t break eye contact.

"Let’s not waste time," I said, calmly. "We’ll start simple."

3830 stepped closer. I felt her gaze on me—not the scout.

"You created that skill....no, you-"

I glanced up. Met her eyes.

"Copied it," I corrected.

"From who?"

"Doesn’t matter."

"It does to me."

I hesitated. Then said, "Someone I met at a trial. He lied to everyone except me. I’m curious though, how did it look like to just see a skill appear?"

She didn’t answer. But her silence was heavier than words. And when she looked at me again, it wasn’t suspicion in her eyes.

It was caution.

She knew that I could create or copy skills, but knowing is one thing.

Watching it happen is another.

I turned back to the scout, whose jaw was tightening now.

"Let’s start with the truth," I said, my voice sharp but even. "How many more of you are on this island?"

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