CHAPTER 173: CHAPTER 173: THE NET TIGHTENS

The explosion still roared in their ears as they stumbled into the open street. The alley behind them collapsed in a thunder of falling concrete and dust, flames licking upward like the jaws of some hellish beast. Min-joon coughed violently, ash smeared across his face, his small frame shaking as he clutched his side. Keller dragged him forward with brute strength, his own arm bleeding where shrapnel had torn through.

But Lin—Lin’s eyes were elsewhere. They burned with the sight of the symbol left behind on the wall. A circle with a line slashed through. A message. Not just a warning. A claim.

"Lin!" Keller barked, yanking his attention back. "Street’s open! Move before they close it!"

The night air outside was different. Open space should have felt freeing, but it was suffocating instead. The streets were wide, lined with gutted storefronts and half-toppled neon signs, but every window felt like a sniper’s nest, every rooftop a shadow waiting to move.

Jin’s net wasn’t subtle anymore. It was tightening.

The Streets of Ash

"Where do we go?" Min-joon rasped, staggering as they pushed forward.

Lin scanned the streets rapidly. "Not straight. That’s where he wants us—clear lines for his snipers. We zigzag, use cover, keep moving. Fast."

Keller muttered a curse, dragging Min-joon behind a rusted car. A bullet pinged off the hood immediately after, showering sparks. "Snipers already sighted us. No time for your fancy maps, Lin—we need to break them."

"Then break smart," Lin snapped back. His tone was sharper than usual, edged by something deeper—fear buried beneath control.

They darted between husks of buildings, each movement punctuated by the crack of distant rifles. Min-joon nearly went down again, but Lin shoved him flat behind a shattered bus stop. Keller covered them with wild fire, forcing the enemy snipers to duck, his bullets echoing like hammers against the hollow night.

And then came the drones.

Two more swept overhead, their red sensors glowing as they tracked from above. Unlike the first, these weren’t scouting. They were hunting.

Lin cursed under his breath. "He’s pushing us into a funnel again. Same game."

"Then we tear a hole in the funnel," Keller growled, already aiming.

But Lin stopped him. "No. Don’t waste it. Those drones aren’t just shooters—they’re signal towers. You drop one, the others tighten faster. We need misdirection."

Min-joon, still trembling, spoke up. "I—I can jam them. Short range. If I get close enough."

Both men stared at him.

Keller scoffed. "Kid, you can barely hold a gun steady. And you want to play tech wizard under fire?"

But Lin’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "If you can do it, we gain a gap. Even seconds matter."

Min-joon swallowed hard but nodded. "I can. I swear."

Lin placed a hand on his shoulder, steady and firm. "Then you do it. We’ll cover."

The Jam

They moved low and fast, weaving through wreckage until they were within striking distance of the drones. The machines whirred above, their scanners glowing crimson as they adjusted, triangulating their prey.

"Now," Lin whispered.

Min-joon knelt behind a half-toppled electrical box, fumbling with the portable jammer he’d salvaged earlier in the maze. His hands shook violently, sweat dripping from his brow as he adjusted wires and dials. The device crackled, sparks spitting, but slowly a low hum began to spread through the street.

The drones shuddered mid-air. Their lights flickered.

"They’re blind!" Min-joon shouted, shock in his own voice.

Keller didn’t waste a second. He fired, his bullets punching holes through one drone’s chassis. It spun wildly, colliding into the other in a screech of metal and sparks. Both crashed into the street in a fireball, the explosion lighting up the night.

But the sound carried. Too far. Too loud.

Within moments, the street ahead lit up—floodlights snapping alive as vehicles blocked both ends of the avenue. Masked figures spilled from the backs of trucks, rifles raised in synchronized unison. Jin’s army had them surrounded.

The Circle

It wasn’t chaos anymore. It was precision.

The gunmen formed a perfect ring, tightening with every step. No wild shouts. No disorder. Just silent menace as rifles gleamed under the floodlights.

And then came the voice again.

"Very good, Lin," Jin’s tone purred from speakers mounted on the trucks. "You adapt. You teach the boy. You even restrain Keller’s rage. You’re becoming exactly the protagonist I hoped you’d be."

The words sliced deeper than bullets. Lin clenched his fists, jaw tightening. He hated how Jin framed it—like Lin wasn’t leading, but being led.

"Come out," Jin continued. "Drop the guns. Surrender. I’ll let the boy live. Keller, too, if he can behave. But you, Lin—you don’t get to choose. You’re mine."

Keller spat blood on the pavement. "Screw your speeches. I’ll carve your throat myself, Jin!"

The circle tightened further. Rifles clicked into place. Min-joon’s eyes darted wildly, fear rising.

"Lin... what do we do?" he whispered.

For a long moment, Lin was silent. His chest rose and fell slowly as he scanned the ring. Dozens of rifles. No clean exits. Trapped. Exactly where Jin wanted them.

But then his gaze flicked upward. Beyond the lights, beyond the rifles—at the half-collapsed building beside them. Its steel frame hung loose, sagging under strain. One wrong shock and it would topple.

Lin’s eyes sharpened.

"We turn his circle into his coffin," he muttered.

Breaking the Net

Before Keller could ask, Lin was already moving. He sprinted toward the building, bullets sparking at his heels. His stolen rifle barked in his hands, each shot not aimed at men but at steel. Bolts sheared. Beams groaned. The structure began to sway.

"Cover him!" Keller roared, unleashing a torrent of fire at the nearest gunmen. Min-joon, panicked but determined, followed suit, his shots wild but enough to force hesitation.

Lin fired again and again, targeting weak joints, until with a shattering crack the building’s frame gave way.

The collapse was thunder. Steel screamed, concrete shattered, and the entire structure toppled into the street, crushing vehicles, scattering gunmen like ants under a boot. Dust and debris exploded outward, blanketing the circle in chaos.

"Move!" Lin roared, charging through the smoke.

Keller grabbed Min-joon and barreled after him, all three vanishing into the haze as Jin’s perfect net dissolved in fire and ruin.

The Pursuit

But escape wasn’t clean.

Gunmen regrouped, shouting in the smoke. Flashlights cut through the dust. Dogs barked, their snarls tearing into the night.

And Jin’s voice, calm even amid the collapse:

"Excellent, Lin. You’ve given me my next Chapter."

Lin ignored it, forcing himself and the others down a side street, their lungs burning with dust, their boots pounding against broken asphalt.

Behind them, searchlights swept wide. Engines roared as vehicles repositioned. The hunt was far from over.

Min-joon gasped, nearly collapsing. Keller half-carried him, his eyes blazing. "We can’t keep running blind, Lin. He’s got men on every street. We need a hole in this web, and we need it now."

Lin’s eyes darted across the fractured skyline. His mind worked like fire—mapping alleys, calculating angles, remembering Jin’s patterns. And then he saw it: the entrance to an abandoned subway tunnel, its gate half-rusted open.

"Down," Lin ordered. "Underground again."

Keller balked. "Back into his maze? Are you insane?"

Lin’s jaw tightened. "It’s not his maze anymore. Not if we rewrite it."

Cliffhanger

They plunged into the subway, darkness swallowing them whole as the roar of pursuit thundered above. The last thing Lin heard before the tunnels claimed them was Jin’s voice over the loudspeakers scattered across the city:

"You can run, Lin. You can hide. But every step you take... I already wrote it."

The echo followed him into the dark, as if the tunnels themselves were whispering the truth.

And Lin knew: the real war wasn’t just with Jin’s men.

It was with the story Jin was forcing them to live.