Solo Leveling: Forceborn

"Power is a lottery, but growth? That's earned."

The Hunter Assessment Bureau was a stark, no-nonsense building tucked away in the heart of Seattle. The walls were gray, the floors polished to a sterile shine. It smelled faintly of bleach and sweat. This was where every newly awakened Hunter came to learn their fate.

"Step forward," a bored-looking clerk called, barely glancing up from his tablet.

I shuffled forward, the weight of a dozen stares pressing against my back. The room was full of other newly awakened Hunters, all as nervous and uncertain as I was. Some fidgeted with their hands. Others sat stiff, their faces pale.

It stood at the center of the room: a shiny device with an orb embedded into its core and glowing with this deep, shining blue. The Hunter simply gave it a handprint, and the machine read off their mana- the magical energy that drove each ability- to rank them accordingly. E was the lowest, S the highest. Most people fell somewhere in between.

"Name?" the clerk said, without so much as raising his eyes from behind the desk.

"Kael," I said. My voice came out steadier than I thought it would. "No last name."

The clerk's eyes flashed to mine for a moment before he gestured to the device. "Hand on the orb. Don't let go until it beeps."

I stepped up to the machine. The palms of my hands were slick, and I wiped them off on my pants before laying a right hand over the orb. It was cool to the touch, humming faintly beneath my fingertips.

The room fell silent. Even the fidgeters stilled, their eyes locked on the machine. The orb began to glow, faintly at first, then brighter. Lines of blue light snaked up my arm, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. The hum grew louder, filling my ears.

Beep.

The orb faded, lights receding. I withdrew my hand, bending my fingers back. The clerk looked at his tablet, raising his eyebrows. That was the first flicker of emotion I had seen in the clerk.

"B rank," he declared, cutting through the quiet. "Mage."

A murmur ran through the room. B rank was fine. Not spectacular, but fine. Better than most. For a moment, relief washed over me. I wasn't an E rank, destined to fight at the bottom of the food chain. I had potential.

But then the doubts crept in. B rank wasn't S rank. It wasn't the kind of power that turned heads or changed destinies. Was it enough?

"Don't look so glum," a voice said, pulling me from my thoughts. I turned to see an older Hunter leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He had a scar running down one cheek and an easy grin that didn't match the sharpness in his eyes.

"You know," he said, "there's a guy out there who awakened as an E rank. Barely had enough mana to light a candle. Now? He's an S rank. Runs his own guild."

I blinked. "How?"

The man's grin spread wide. "Dedication, training, and sheer will. Talent isn't everything, kid. You work hard enough, you can climb."

His words were encouraging, but something didn't sit right. Another clerk—a stern woman with sharp glasses—must have overheard, because she chimed in.

"Don't let him fill your head with fairy tales," she said, adjusting her glasses. "The human body is a vessel for mana. The amount it can hold is predetermined during your awakening. Training increases control, of course, but it won't expand the amount you carry. You're B rank. That's all you'll ever be."

Her words were like a slap. I looked from her back to the man, who just shrugged.

"She's not wrong," he said. "But here's the thing: limits aren't walls. They're thresholds. You can push them."

I didn't know which one to believe. Maybe they were both right in different ways. But one thing was certain: I had work to do. B rank or not, I wasn't going to settle.

Clutching the thin plastic card now that declared me a Hunter, I couldn't help but mix my emotions on leaving the building. Relief and doubt and determination all swirled in my chest. It had been four years since this world had been turned upside down, and so had mine.

I did not know where this way was going, but one thing I knew I wasn't taking it alone again. My strength-and the weight of it- were mine.