I Possess the SSS Skill: Future Sight-Chapter 55: The Safe Haven

The lower sewers of Elysium City looked like the intestines of a dying cosmic beast.

The darkness here was not merely the absence of light—it was a viscous entity clinging to the skin, enveloping us in the stench of methane, rotting waste, and stagnant water flowing slowly like diseased black blood.

We walked in silence, broken only by the sound of wading through water that reached mid-calf, and our uneven breathing.

Alpha Team... the elite who, just hours ago, stood at the pinnacle of the intelligence hierarchy, had now turned into a group of terrified rats dragging the weight of their failure and wounds through the depths of the city.

Eva Blackwood walked ahead of me, limping badly, leaning her shoulder against the slimy concrete wall.

She bit her lips until they bled to stop herself from groaning.

Damian followed her, holding his broken arm dangling like a dead branch, his handsome face covered in mud and despair.

Aiden walked at the rear, shivering from cold and fear, glancing behind him every two seconds as if expecting FBI snipers to emerge from the shadows.

And Sia... Sia walked in silence, her angelic face stained with blood, her eyes empty of any expression.

But the most horrifying—and most awe-inspiring—sight in that dark tunnel... was not us.

It was Valisera.

She was dying.

There was no other logical description for her condition.

The red Eitra bullet that pierced her right shoulder had left a charred hole the size of a fist, emitting black smoke that smelled like burning sulfur.

Worse still was the wound splitting her left waist.

It wasn’t caused by an ordinary blade—it was a rupture inflicted by anti-spatial energy.

The wound was "bleeding" void. Its edges did not heal; they flickered like a malfunctioning screen, dripping radiant crimson blood mixed with black shadows that fell into the sewer water, producing a corrosive hiss.

When we fell into the elevator shaft, Valisera had been nearly unconscious in Sia’s arms.

But... the moment our feet touched the sewers, and the moment she realized we had become prey—something terrifying happened.

Her demonic pride awakened.

"My lady commander, please—let me carry you! You’re losing lethal amounts of Eitra!" Sia cried, tears streaming as she tried to place Valisera’s good arm over her shoulder.

CRASH!

With a brutal, sudden motion—and strength no torn body should possess—Valisera shoved Sia away.

The force sent Sia flying two meters into the concrete wall before sliding into the filthy water.

"Don’t. Touch me."

Valisera growled in a low, broken voice—but one carrying a real threat of death.

Her crimson eyes burned with furious rage—not at us, but at her own weakness.

"I... am not... helpless." she spat, along with a mouthful of black blood.

She stood upright. Yes—completely upright. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Her body trembled violently as if under constant electric shocks, her face pale as dead snow, black veins bulging along her neck from the strain of forcing her body not to collapse.

She refused all help.

Refused even to lean on the wall.

She walked with sheer willpower, head raised with blind pride, stepping through the foul water with rigid, military precision—as if she were still walking across the red carpet of Kaiser Dravion’s palace.

Each step left behind a trail of glowing crimson blood in the black water.

I could hear her bones grinding, feel the sick aura radiating from her.

Something inside her was tearing her apart—laughing at her, mocking her weakness—and she answered by punishing her own body, forcing it to move when, by all medical logic... she should have been a corpse half an hour ago.

What a madwoman... I thought, keeping a safe distance behind her.

Her pride was greater than her survival instinct.

She would rather die torn apart while walking with dignity than live being carried like a helpless burden.

We walked for two hours.

Two hours of silent torment in Elysium’s underground labyrinth.

Finally, we reached a relatively dry drainage channel that ended at a rusty iron ladder leading upward.

"We’re here," I said quietly, breaking the funeral silence.

"This exit leads to the back alleys of Sector F, near the border with Sector G. From there, we’ll move above ground for just three buildings."

"Sector F?" Aiden complained in a near-crying voice.

"That place is infested with gangs and low-tier mutants! Are we hiding in a garbage dump?"

"Would you rather go back to the Golden Sector and let your friends in the assault teams put a hole through your head?"

Eva shot him a glance that instantly silenced him.

I climbed the iron ladder first and pushed the heavy metal cover.

Cold air hit my face—carrying the smell of rain, wet garbage, and cheap motor oil.

I climbed out and helped the others up.

The alley was narrow, dark, lit only by broken holographic advertisement screens hanging from the crumbling residential buildings.

Rain still fell in a light drizzle.

Valisera climbed up on her own.

The moment her feet touched the asphalt, she staggered violently, nearly collapsing—but she drove her heel into the ground and froze like a statue, refusing to fall.

Her breath came out in fragmented white vapor.

"Where to now... guide?" Valisera asked, her eyes locking onto mine with terrifying intensity despite her exhaustion.

"The third building from here. Fourth floor," I said, pointing toward a grim residential block with peeling paint and exposed electrical wires hanging from its balconies.

We moved through the darkness, avoiding any light sources.

We reached the decaying building and climbed the concrete stairs reeking of urine and cheap beer.

Each step felt like climbing a mountain.

Finally, we stopped in front of a peeling wooden door marked: 404.

I took a deep breath and looked at Alpha Team standing behind me in the narrow, dark corridor.

They looked like nightmares escaped from a morgue.

Blood covered them. Weapons in their hands. Despair in their eyes.

I raised my hand and knocked in a specific pattern:

three quick knocks... pause... two slow knocks... then one heavy knock.

Please, Zak... be home—and don’t blow our heads off with one of your stupid traps, I prayed silently.

Silence lingered for a few seconds.

Then we heard mechanical and magical locks disengaging from inside.

At least five locks.

Click... crack... zzzzt...

The door slowly opened—and Zak’s face appeared in the gap.

He looked exactly as I last saw him: deep dark circles under his eyes, messy brown hair like a bird’s nest, his left eye twitching nervously, wearing a loose shirt with a sarcastic guild logo print.

In his right hand, he held a large ceramic mug steaming with concentrated espresso; in his left, a compact Eitra stun device.

"Kyle?!" Zak’s eyes widened with sudden joy as he opened the door fully.

"Man! Where have you been all this ti—"

He stopped.

His eye stopped twitching.

His heart nearly stopped.

His gaze moved from my face... to behind me.

To the people standing there.

Eva Blackwood, with her terrifying sniper rifle and killing gaze.

Damian, with his shattered armor and blood-stained heavy gun.

Sia and Aiden, armed and ready.

And in the center—Valisera, the silver demon, bleeding onto the cheap carpet at his doorway, looking at him like he was an insignificant insect.

The espresso cup slipped from Zak’s hand.

It shattered on the wooden floor, hot coffee splashing over his house slippers—but he didn’t blink.

The stun device fell from his other hand and hit the ground.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again.

"Y... y... y..." Zak stammered, his face shifting from pale to blue from sheer terror and lack of oxygen.

"Hey, Zak," I said with a tense smile, trying to ease the situation.

"I brought some friends over for the night. Hope you’ve got enough space."

"F-friends?!" Zak screamed hysterically, his voice rising into a sharp, almost feminine pitch.

He stumbled backward, grabbing his hair with both hands.

"Friends?! Kyle, these aren’t friends! That’s Alpha Team! They’re... they’re the number one wanted terrorists in the world right now! The news is broadcasting them everywhere! They blew up a headquarters and killed their colleagues! Why... why are they bleeding on my doormat?!"

"Terrorists?" Eva slowly raised her sniper rifle toward Zak’s face, her black eyes narrowing with anger.

"Shut up, you rat, and move before I blow your head off and turn you into breaking news."

"AAAAAH!" Zak screamed, diving behind a filthy couch in the middle of his chaotic living room.

"Get inside," I said quickly, pushing everyone in before shutting the door behind us and locking all five bolts.

Zak’s apartment was... a surreal painting of paranoia.

The walls were completely covered with computer screens flickering with green code, and old newspaper clippings connected with red threads like a madman’s spiderweb.

On the central table were empty pizza boxes, rotten coffee cups, and dismantled electronic and magical equipment.

Wires covered the floor like tangled snakes.

Valisera stepped into the center of the cluttered apartment, looking around with absolute disgust.

"This is the ’safe haven’ you promised us, Kyle?" she asked coldly, her voice trembling slightly from pain.

"A garbage dump belonging to a lunatic in pajamas?"

"Ma’am, this ’dump’ isn’t registered on any government map—and it’s Eitra-insulated thanks to Zak’s equipment," I replied quickly, then turned to Zak, who was still hiding behind the couch, trembling.

"Zak! Get out of there. We’re not terrorists. We’ve been set up by the FBI Director himself. We’re being hunted—and we need your help."