"Brother Ronan, are you going to join the Survey Corps too?"
Eren, who had been quiet the whole way home, suddenly spoke up.
Ronan smiled calmly.
"Yeah. I'll attend the conscription ceremony at the beginning of next year and aim to join the Survey Corps after graduation."
"Damn it! Why am I only nine years old?" Eren grumbled, clenching his fists. "If I were thirteen, I'd join the Survey Corps with you!"
Seeing his frustration, Ronan gently patted his shoulder.
"Enjoy your peaceful days for now. I'll be waiting for you in the Survey Corps."
With that, he turned and headed in the direction of his house—just as he remembered it.
Eren stood frozen for a moment before shouting loudly,
"Brother Ronan! Wait for me! I'll definitely join the Survey Corps!"
Ronan didn't turn back. He simply raised a hand and waved casually as he walked away, thoughts already drifting toward the road ahead—training, preparation, and survival.
---
At present, the walls hadn't been breached. There was no fear of Titans rampaging through cities, no constant reminder of humanity's vulnerability. Life was still relatively stable, and that made corps membership appealing for very different reasons.
Becoming a soldier—especially one stationed far inside the walls near the royal government—offered better food, greater safety, and a ticket out of poverty. Even the lazy routine of a Garrison soldier, spending most days drinking, gambling, and wasting time, seemed like a dream to many.
That made the conscription process extremely competitive.
And with only a little over three months until February's recruitment, Ronan had no time to waste.
---
As soon as he arrived home, he began to test the limits of his mysterious system.
"1... 2... 3... twenty-one... twenty-two... thirty-one... thirty-two!"
By the 32nd push-up, his arms were trembling. His body collapsed onto the floor, muscles twitching, strength depleted. He'd reached his physical limit.
And then—
Ding!
The host has done push-ups to the limit. Upper body strength +1!
A wave of cool energy flowed through his arms. Ronan could feel it—he really was stronger. He might even be able to do another twenty.
Driven by excitement, he pushed up from the floor and resumed training.
This time, he managed seventeen more before collapsing again, completely spent.
But this time… silence.
No system alert.
"...Huh?" Ronan furrowed his brow. "Nothing? I hit my limit again. Don't tell me... the system only rewards the first maxed-out effort for each type of exercise?"
He wasn't going to sit around guessing. Ignoring the soreness in his arms, he staggered toward the dining area, then dropped into a squat.
"Let's test that."
---
Five minutes later...
Ronan lay on the cold floor like a defeated soldier after war. Arms and legs aching, lungs burning, legs heavier than lead. And just as despair began to sink in—
Ding!
The host has done frog jumps to the limit. Lower body strength +1!
"YES!"
The emotionless system voice felt like the sweetest melody he'd ever heard.
Ronan's spirit soared. "So that's the trick. One type of training = one stat gain per day. That must be the rule. I wonder if it resets each day...?"
Though it was already October and the ground was freezing, he stood back up, warmth rushing through his now-stronger legs. His satisfaction was short-lived, however—his stomach growled violently.
"Guess I'm starving now..."
---
In the small kitchen, he scrounged together what was left of his supplies. A bit of dry bread. Two old potatoes. That was it.
He cooked what he could, devoured every last crumb, and leaned back, patting his now-full stomach with a contented sigh.
Then came the realization:
"That was all the food I had."
His eyes drifted toward his wallet. A few lonely coins jingled in the bottom.
"A penny short, and even a hero can starve..." he muttered. "I need a job—something that pays and feeds me."
He thought back to his system. Strength-based progress. Growth through limits.
That meant one thing: labor.
Hard, physical labor would feed him and level him up.
With that in mind, he sorted through the various jobs in Shiganshina District. One stood out—demanding, low-paying, but perfect for someone like him.
Ronan had decided.
This would be his first step toward survival, strength, and something more.