"Two hundred powerstones..." I smiled, genuinely touched by the support. "Thank you, truly. Your engagement with Xavier's journey means more than you might realize. I suppose this calls for something special – those bonus chapters you've been asking for."
I picked up my favorite fountain pen. "Before we dive in though, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story so far. I know it's been a departure from the traditional Solo Leveling format. Some might say I'm taking too long establishing the world, but..." I chuckled softly. "America's hunter ecosystem needed proper foundation work."
The pen twirled between my fingers as I considered my next words. "The original Solo Leveling gave us maybe ten named American characters? And most were barely sketched out. Building this world from scratch, populating it with complex characters and institutions – it's been both challenging and deeply satisfying."
I glanced at my notes about Xavier's growth trajectory. "But let's talk about our protagonist's development. You've seen how Xavier's changed since that first purple gate, haven't you? That's why I wanted to take my time 'cooking' this story properly. Character growth needs proper seasoning."
Setting down the pen, I pulled out a fresh notebook. "Actually, I've been debating something. What do you think about giving Xavier the ability to form a party? Not just any party system – I'm thinking of something more... intimate. A covenant system that would allow him to form magical pacts with up to seven others."
My fingers traced the outline of the proposed system in the notebook. "It would require mutual consent, of course. Real bonds, not just mechanical partnerships. The covenant members would gain accelerated growth and access to his mana pool, while Xavier would receive half of any benefits they gain through attribute points. The real interesting part though? The strength of these bonds would grow through loyalty, time spent together, emotional connections..."
I looked up, meeting your gaze directly. "But I'm curious – would that enhance the story or overcomplicate it? The system's already complex, and adding another layer..." I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "Though it could create some fascinating dynamics, especially given Xavier's approach to relationships.",
Standing up to stretch, I walked to the window, watching the city lights below. "You know, sometimes I wonder if I'm being too methodical with this story. But then I remember – this is exactly how Xavier would want his story told. Carefully. Precisely. With every element considered and every power earned."
Turning back to you, I smiled. "So, what do you think? Should we give our protagonist the ability to forge deeper connections? And more importantly – are you ready for those bonus chapters?"
======
The drive back to my apartment was… something. Miguel talked non-stop, words spilling out at machine-gun pace while he demolished three double cheeseburgers, two large fries, and a chocolate shake.
"So you're just gonna act like this is normal?" he demanded between bites. "Like you haven't been hiding some serious skills this whole time?"
I kept my eyes on the road. "It's complicated."
"No shit." He balled up a wrapper and tossed it into the bag. "How long have you been able to fight like that?"
"Always," I admitted. "My parents trained me since I could walk. Dad was A-Rank, Mom was B-Rank, remember?"
"Yeah, but—" He gestured wildly with a fry. "That wasn't beginner stuff back there. That was... professional."
I shrugged. "I've kept up with training. Just not the hunting."
"Because of Noel?"
"Partly."
The conversation shifted to his newfound abilities for the remainder of the drive. By the time I dropped him at his apartment building, he'd crashed hard, the mana depletion finally catching up with him.
"Take a shower," I told him as he stumbled out of the car.
"Yes, mother." He yawned, stretching his arms overhead. "Hey, X?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. For having my back in there."
I nodded, watching him shuffle inside before pulling away.
Noel was at her desk when I got home, textbooks spread around her laptop like defensive fortifications. She didn't look up as I entered, but her posture softened slightly—her version of a welcome.
"You're late," she said, fingers still typing.
"Got held up." I set my bag down. "Gate complications."
That got her attention. She swiveled in her chair, blue eyes scanning me for injuries. "What kind of complications?"
I peeled off my jacket, grimacing at the goblin ichor staining the sleeve. "The kind that end with Miguel awakening as a hunter."
Her eyes widened. "Shit. Seriously? Miguel?"
"Flew across the cavern wrapped in flames. Saved a hunter's life."
"Flame affinity?" She was already reaching for her phone, probably to add this to her meticulous hunter database. "What rank?"
"B-Rank reserves. Maybe higher for speed."
She whistled low. "His mom's going to lose her mind."
"Yeah." I grabbed clean clothes from our shared dresser. "I'm going to shower, then we need to talk."
In the bathroom, I stood under the hot spray for longer than necessary, watching black ichor and dried blood spiral down the drain. The matron had been a C-Rank opponent, but it felt good to move without restraint again.
When I emerged, Noel had cleared her study materials and set two mugs of coffee on the small table.
I gave her the condensed version—the gate, the goblin ambush, Miguel's awakening, and my own involvement. She listened without interruption, those sharp eyes catching every detail I tried to gloss over.
"So they all saw you fight," she said when I finished.
"Yeah."
"And now you're meeting them at a hunter bar."
I sipped my coffee. "Damage control. Better to give them some explanation than leave them guessing."
Noel studied me for a long moment. "You're wearing that?"
I glanced down at my standard jeans and plain black t-shirt. "What's wrong with this?"
She rolled her eyes. "If you're meeting the weapons girl, at least make an effort."
"I'm not—"
"Please." She stood, marching to our closet. "I saw how you looked when you mentioned her name. 'Tenten this' and 'Tenten that.'" She rummaged through my clothes, emerging with dark jeans and a navy button-down. "Here. And the gray jacket with it."
I took the clothes, not bothering to argue. "It's just a meeting."
"At a hunter bar. At night." She crossed her arms. "With a girl who couldn't take her eyes off you, according to your own story."
Twenty minutes later, I stood by the door, dressed in Noel's selections. She circled me once, adjusting my collar before stepping back with a critical eye.
"You'll do," she declared. "Looking like a full course meal. Good enough to eat."
I rolled my eyes. "It's not a date."
"Of course not." Her smile was pure mischief. "Just four hunters discussing business. At a bar. Late at night."
"I'll be back by midnight."
"Don't rush on my account." She was already returning to her desk, waving a dismissive hand. "I have an analysis paper to finish anyway."
Cliff's Hideaway occupied the basement level of a nondescript building in downtown LA, its entrance marked only by a small neon sign depicting a cliff face. The bouncer—a burly E-Rank checked my hunter ID before nodding me through.
Inside, the bar lived up to its name. The space had been excavated to resemble a natural cavern, with stalactites hanging from the ceiling and booth seating carved directly into stone walls. Soft blue lighting gave everything an otherworldly glow, while the background music was kept at a level that allowed actual conversation.
I spotted Tenten immediately. She'd claimed a corner booth with good sightlines to both exits—a hunter's instinct. What caught me off guard was her appearance.
Gone was the practical combat attire, replaced by a deep burgundy dress that hugged curves her hunting gear had only hinted at. Her black hair hung loose around her shoulders instead of the usual twin buns, framing a face that looked softer without the intensity of battle. She'd applied minimal makeup, just enough to accentuate those steel-gray eyes that now widened slightly as they met mine.
I approached the table, noting how she straightened her posture and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You're early," she said, gesturing to the empty seats.
"So are you." I slid into the booth across from her, keeping a respectful distance. "Thought Shikamaru would be here already."
"That lazy ass?" She snorted. "He'll roll in exactly at ten, not a minute sooner."
A server appeared with water glasses. I ordered a whiskey, neat. Tenten already had something amber in a lowball glass.
"Old fashioned," she explained, catching my glance. "The bartender here makes them properly."
"Good to know." I leaned back, taking in the rest of the bar. About half the tables were occupied, mostly by hunters unwinding after gate runs. "Nice place."
"Hunter-owned," she said. "Cliff was a C-Rank who retired after losing an arm to a drake. Started this place as a neutral ground for hunters of all ranks and guilds."
The server returned with my drink. I took a sip, appreciating the smooth burn.
"So," Tenten said, fingers tracing patterns on her glass, "about today."
"About today," I echoed.
"That weapon—the spear. C-Rank at least."
I nodded. "Good eye."
"I know my weapons." A hint of pride colored her voice. "But I don't recall selling it to you."
"You didn't."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you cheating on me with another weapons shop?"
"What can I say? I'm a greedy guy."
"Unfaithful customer." She shook her head. "And here I thought we had something special."
"The Piercer was my father's," I fabricated. "Family heirloom."
Something shifted in her expression—understanding, perhaps. "A hunter, right? Your father?"
"Yeah."
She nodded, taking a sip of her drink. "Makes sense now. The way you moved in there... that wasn't just talent. That was years of training."
"Started when I was five," I confirmed. "Basic forms first, then weapons by eight."
"It shows."
A comfortable silence settled between us. I noticed small details about her I'd missed before—a tiny scar above her right eyebrow, the calluses on her hands from countless hours of weapons practice, the slight asymmetry to her smile that somehow made it more appealing.
"Why porter work?" she asked finally. "With skills like yours, you could join any mid-tier guild. Maybe even Scavenger Guild, with the right connections."
I swirled the whiskey in my glass. "Haven't been active in the hunting scene for a while. Wanted to ease back in, get a feel for it again."
"Through manual labor?"
"Through observation," I corrected. "Porters see everything—hunter techniques, gate patterns, guild politics. All without the pressure of performance."
She considered this, head tilted slightly. "Smart approach. But unusual."
"I'm an unusual guy."
Her lips quirked upward. "I noticed."
The air between us seemed to thicken. I became acutely aware of the soft jazz playing in the background, the way her fingers wrapped around her glass, the slight flush coloring her cheeks that couldn't be attributed entirely to alcohol.
"Are you in a guild?" she asked, voice softer now.
"No. Independent." I leaned forward slightly. "You're with Iron Dragon, right?"
She nodded, something flickering across her face. "Almost five years now."
"And?"
"And what?"
"There was something in your voice just now."
She took another sip, eyes dropping to her glass. "It's fine. Good training, steady work."
"But?"
A slight shrug. "Traditional management. Traditional views of female hunters."
"Ah." I understood immediately. "Support roles instead of frontline, despite your skills."
"Something like that." She looked up, surprise evident. "Most people don't catch on so quickly."
"I pay attention." Thank you, Noel.
"There he is," Tenten said suddenly, gaze shifting past my shoulder.
I turned to see Shikamaru weaving through the tables, hands in his pockets and posture slouched as usual. He slid into the booth beside me with a lazy greeting.
"Exactly ten," Tenten said, checking her watch. "Predictable as always."
"Being late is troublesome. So is being early." He signaled the server without looking up. "Miguel?"
"On his way," I replied. "First awakening exhaustion hit him hard."
Shikamaru nodded knowingly. "Typical. Especially with flame types. Burns through reserves fast."
The conversation shifted to lighter topics—the bar, the drinks, recent gate patterns in the area. Tenten and I maintained polite distance, though I caught her eyes straying to me more than once. Shikamaru noticed too, a smirk briefly crossing his features before he masked it with indifference.
Miguel arrived at 10:08, practically bouncing with renewed energy. He slid in beside Tenten, immediately launching into an excited recounting of his awakening experience.
"—and then I just felt this heat in my legs, and next thing I know, I'm shooting up like a rocket!"
The server brought another round. Miguel ordered food—"Everything with protein, seriously, I'm starving again"—while the rest of us nursed our drinks.
When the initial excitement settled, Shikamaru leaned forward, fingers forming their analytical circle.
"So," he said, eyes fixed on me. "Let's address the elephant in the room."
I raised an eyebrow. "Which elephant would that be?"
"Miguel's awakening—unexpected but understandable." He nodded toward my friend. "First-time gate exposure, high-stress situation. Classic catalyst."
Miguel beamed, clearly pleased with himself.
"You, on the other hand," Shikamaru continued, "are a different story. D-Rank on paper, moves like a B-Rank in practice. Carrying a C-Rank weapon you clearly know how to use. Taking porter jobs when you could earn ten times more as an active hunter."
I took a slow sip of whiskey. "Your point?"
"My point is that it's troublesome." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Talented hunters hiding their abilities usually have reasons. Sometimes good ones, sometimes not."
"I've been out of the game for a while," I said, sticking to my prepared story. "Wanted to get my feet wet again before diving back in."
"As a porter?"
"Low pressure, good observation opportunities." I shrugged. "Plus, the pay's not terrible when you factor in tips."
Miguel snorted. "Yeah, all those generous hunters just throwing money at their bag carriers."
I shot him a look. He grinned unrepentantly.
Shikamaru's fingers remained in their circle, his gaze never leaving my face. "Hunter parents. A-Rank father, B-Rank mother. Both lost in the Utah incident?"
I kept my expression neutral, but my grip tightened on my glass. "You've been doing research."
"Public records." He dropped his hands. "My condolences."
"Thanks," I said flatly.
Silence fell over the table. Miguel shifted uncomfortably, looking between us.
"Hey, maybe we could—"
"It's okay," I interrupted, making a decision. "After my parents died, I stepped away from hunting." I looked directly at Shikamaru. "Now I'm easing back in, on my own terms."
Something in Shikamaru's expression changed—not quite softening, but a subtle shift toward understanding. "Family responsibilities," he repeated quietly. "I get that."
The tension dissipated gradually. Tenten asked Miguel about his awakening experience, and the conversation moved to safer territory. I caught her glancing at me occasionally, those steel-gray eyes carrying questions she wasn't asking directly.
As the night progressed, I found myself relaxing despite the earlier interrogation. There was something comfortable about sitting with other hunters, trading stories and observations without the pretense of being just a porter. Miguel fit in naturally, his enthusiasm balanced by Tenten's practical advice and Shikamaru's dry observations.
For the first time in years, I felt like I was among peers—people who understood the strange world we inhabited, straddling the line between normal society and the dangerous reality of gates. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed that connection until I had it again.
When Tenten laughed at something Miguel said, her eyes briefly meeting mine across the table, I wondered what it might be like to step fully back into this world—not as a porter, not as a shadow…
But as myself.