CHAPTER 61: [61] HOW TO GET A GIRL (TO SOUL BOND WITH YOU)

Holy. Shit.

Xavier’s jaw hung open as the observation deck returned to normal lighting. The massive screens still displayed the aftermath—a cathedral littered with crystal fragments, its center now empty where the gate core had been. Thalia Sinclair stood among the destruction, wiping blood from her nose.

"That was fucking amazing," he whispered, barely aware he’d spoken aloud.

Around him, Class 1-D remained frozen in collective awe. No one moved. No one spoke. Even Kyrie, who always had something to say, stared at the screen with wide eyes and parted lips.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Phantom said, his white mask reflecting the screens’ glow, "that is the power of the Big Three."

Xavier couldn’t tear his eyes from Thalia as she gathered her team and headed toward the exit. Her combat suit hugged every curve of her body, and even exhausted, she moved with undeniable authority. Each step showed the perfect balance of a master hunter—hips swaying slightly, shoulders squared, head held high despite the obvious toll the technique had taken.

How the hell do I make a Soul Bond with her?

He blinked, surprised by the direction of his mind. But it made sense. If Soul Bonds provided power based on connection strength, someone like Thalia Sinclair would be the ultimate asset.

Should I ask Calypso about approaching her?

Xavier glanced toward Calypso, who stood with her little group of friends. Their eyes met briefly before she looked away.

No. I don’t need her for this.

Maybe focusing on someone else would take his mind off whatever was happening between him and Calypso. He needed to get his mojo back. The awkwardness from last night had thrown him off balance, made him feel vulnerable. Pursuing a new connection—a powerful one—might be exactly what he needed.

"Your thoughts?" Phantom’s voice cut through Xavier’s planning. "What did you observe?"

Alexander spoke first, his deep voice thoughtful. "Her control was exceptional. She didn’t waste movement or energy until the final technique."

"The Zantei," Phantom nodded. "Continue."

"Her team coordination showed years of practice," Margaret added. "Each person knew their role without needing constant instruction."

Luka raised his hand. "The way she protected team while taking biggest risk herself—very Russian approach! In homeland, we say leader must be shield before sword."

Kyrie snorted. "What impressed me was how she held back until necessary. She could’ve dropped that Zantei thing from the start, but she tested conventional approaches first. Smart."

"And arrogant," Naomi countered, arms crossed. "She knew the simulation parameters. She knew what would happen. The whole exercise was theater."

"What about you, Mr. Valentine?" Phantom turned toward Xavier. "Your assessment?"

Xavier straightened. "She’s playing a different game than everyone else. Those third-years with her? They’re good—but they’re not in her league." He paused, organizing his thoughts. "It’s like watching someone who knows the cheat codes pretending to play by the rules."

Phantom tilted his head. "Interesting observation. Care to elaborate?"

"The way she limited herself until the end—that wasn’t just tactical. She was hiding her true capabilities from her own team." Xavier leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "She doesn’t trust them with knowledge of her full power. There’s a wall between her and everyone else."

"That’s ridiculous," Ashley said. "You’re projecting. The Sinclair family has always produced exceptional hunters. Their bloodline abilities grow stronger with each generation."

"I’m not saying she isn’t talented," Xavier countered. "I’m saying she’s deliberately holding back most of the time."

Ashley opened her mouth to argue further, but Phantom raised his hand.

"An astute observation, Mr. Valentine. The ability to read not just abilities but intentions separates good hunters from great ones." He turned to address the entire class. "Do any of you believe you could match what you just witnessed?"

Silence answered him. The demonstration had humbled everyone.

"I don’t think any of us are on that level," Alexander admitted. "The other third-years, maybe we can match them with training and experience. But Thalia is something else entirely."

"Yet she started exactly where you are now," Phantom reminded them. "As just a first year student."

That revelation sent murmurs through the group.

"The purpose of today’s observation wasn’t to intimidate you," Phantom continued. "It was to show you what’s possible. Two years from now, someone in this room might stand where Thalia Sinclair stands today."

His masked face turned slowly, seeming to make eye contact with each student.

"Or perhaps none of you will. The path is available to all, but few have the combination of talent, determination, and strategic thinking required to—"

A knock interrupted him.

Everyone turned toward the door. It slid open to reveal Dr. Simmons, looking slightly flustered.

"Pardon the interruption," she said, "but I thought you’d want to know. Thalia Sinclair has requested to address your class directly. She’s waiting outside."

Huh, looks like I don’t even have to scheme a way to get a conversation with her. This makes it much easier...

Phantom nodded. "Send her in."

The door opened wider, and Thalia Sinclair entered. She’d changed from her combat suit into the standard third-year uniform—black blazer with gold trim, white button-up shirt, and a pleated skirt. Her periwinkle hair fell in perfect waves around her shoulders, and her purple eyes surveyed the room with calm authority.

Up close, Xavier noticed details the screens hadn’t captured. The slight shadows beneath her eyes suggested regular exhaustion. A small scar crossed her right eyebrow. Her hands, though delicate-looking, showed calluses from years of weapon training.

"Thank you for allowing me to speak with your students, Agent Phantom," she said, her voice carrying easily despite its soft tone.

"The honor is ours," Phantom replied. "Class 1-D just witnessed your simulation."

Thalia nodded, then turned to face the students. "I understand you’re first-years, just beginning your journey at Catalyst. Two years ago, I sat where you sit now, wondering if I’d ever belong here."

Xavier watched her carefully, noting how everyone in the room leaned slightly toward her when she spoke. It wasn’t just her beauty or power—there was something magnetic about her presence.

"You just witnessed a Zantei technique," she continued. "It’s not something I wanted to use in a training exercise, but circumstances required it. I’m here because I believe in transparency. That technique comes with significant costs."

She held up her hand, and Xavier saw the faint tremor in her fingers.

"For the next twelve hours, my Essentia will be unstable. Any attempt to use my abilities will likely fail or backfire. This is the trade-off for wielding that level of power—temporary vulnerability following overwhelming strength."

It made sense—game balance. Ultimate abilities always came with cooldowns or resource costs.

"I’m telling you this not to discourage you from pursuing similar techniques, but to ensure you understand the full picture. Power always has a price." Her purple eyes scanned the room, seeming to linger momentarily on each face. "Questions?"

Hands shot up around the room. Xavier kept his down, watching and listening. Better to observe first, engage later.

"How long did it take you to develop your Zantei?" Alexander asked.

"Two years of focused training," Thalia answered. "I began the process midway through my first year, achieved initial manifestation during second year, and refined it to its current form over the past eight months."

"Does everyone develop a Zantei eventually?" Naomi asked.

Thalia shook her head. "No. It requires both sufficient power and a heightened understanding of your own Essentia. Many A-rank hunters never achieve it."

Questions continued—about training methods, gate clearance strategies, and team dynamics. Thalia answered each with the same measured composure, neither boasting nor downplaying her accomplishments.

Xavier studied her, mapping out his approach. Direct flattery wouldn’t work on someone who received constant adulation. Challenging her would seem pathetic coming from a first-year. He needed something unique, something that would make him stand out from the endless admirers she undoubtedly encountered daily.

As the questions wound down, Xavier finally raised his hand.

Thalia nodded toward him. "Yes?"

"Xavier Valentine," he introduced himself. "Just wondering—what’s it like being trapped?"