"Shin, are you really going to join the Survey Corps too?"
Eren's voice broke the silence as the two walked side by side down a dusty street. The crowds had dispersed, the sounds of horses and steel replaced by the distant murmur of market stalls and footsteps echoing against the stone walls.
Shin glanced down at the younger boy and smiled calmly. "Yeah. I'll be attending the conscription ceremony at the start of next year. Once I graduate, I plan to join the Survey Corps."
Eren clenched his fists. "Damn it! Why am I only nine? If I were thirteen, I could join the Corps with you!"
Shin reached out and gave him a light pat on the shoulder. "Enjoy your peaceful days while you can, Eren. I'll be waiting for you in the Survey Corps when you're ready."
With that, he turned and headed off toward the direction of his home, the sun beginning its slow descent over the red rooftops of Shiganshina.
Eren stood still, watching Shin's back with wide, determined eyes.
"I'll catch up to you," he shouted. "Wait for me, Brother Shin! I'll definitely join the Survey Corps too!"
Shin didn't stop. He simply lifted one hand over his shoulder in a casual wave and kept walking, thoughts already drifting to something far more pressing: training.
He didn't have much time.
With the current year being October 844, there were just over three months left until the next conscription. While the fear of Titans hadn't yet taken root in the hearts of the people, applying to join the Corps was still considered a respectable career—at least for those who weren't aiming to hide behind wealth or status.
Inside the walls, land was limited, but the population kept growing. Enlisting meant a guaranteed place in society, a bed, food, and possibly even a chance to live closer to the inner districts. To some, that was luxury.
At worst? You got into the Garrison—drinking cheap ale, playing cards, sleeping on duty, and spending your days loafing around until retirement.
For many, that was the dream.
Which meant the competition for the Training Corps was intense.
Shin's goals, however, were very different. He wasn't joining the military for status, comfort, or even admiration. He needed to grow stronger—faster, tougher, sharper. If he wanted to survive in the world of Titans, he had to start now.
No cheat would train his body for him.
No system would fight his battles unless he pushed himself to the brink.
And so, the moment Shin returned to his modest home, he dropped his coat, cleared some space in the center of the room, and got straight to work.
"Alright. Let's test this golden finger of mine properly."
He laid flat on the wooden floor, took a deep breath, and began his push-ups.
"One… two… three… twenty-one… twenty-two… thirty-one… thirty-two…"
By the thirty-second push-up, his arms were trembling. Veins stood out across his forearms, and his shoulders burned with fatigue. He grit his teeth, trying to push out one more—only to collapse face-first onto the floorboards.
His arms twitched, utterly drained of strength.
And then—
Ding! The host has performed push-ups to physical limit. Upper limb strength +1.
Shin's eyes lit up.
Suddenly, his arms felt lighter. Not fully recovered, but definitely stronger. There was a cool wave of relief pulsing through his biceps and forearms.
"I can still move…! No, not just that—I feel like I can do more!"
With a grin, he got back into position and started again. This time, he powered through seventeen more push-ups before collapsing a second time.
But this time... silence.
"No system message?" Shin panted, brows furrowed. "Why not? That was definitely my limit again."
He thought for a moment.
"Wait... maybe each type of training can only increase a stat once per day?"
That would make sense.
Earlier, when he ran with Eren, the system had rewarded him with +1 endurance. Now, push-ups had given him +1 upper body strength. But repeating the same action didn't grant further bonuses.
"So… new stimulus each time, huh?"
Fine.
Shin rolled over, stood up with a bit of effort, and stumbled toward the center of the room again. This time, he dropped into a squat and launched into frog jumps—explosive hops that circled the dining table.
His thighs screamed by the second lap. His knees felt like they were being filled with cement. The cold floor under his feet didn't help either—October air in Shiganshina had bite to it.
But he pushed on.
Three minutes in, he was wheezing. Four minutes in, he nearly fell face-first into a chair. By five minutes—
"ARGHHH—!"
He collapsed in a heap on the floor, a gasping, twitching mess. His arms, legs, even his back were burning now.
And then—sweet, glorious system feedback:
Ding! The host has performed frog jumps to physical limit. Lower limb strength +1.
Shin exhaled sharply.
It was the most comforting sound in the world.
"That... was worth it," he said between breaths. "God, that voice is starting to sound beautiful…"
He laid there for another few minutes, soaking in the small but satisfying sense of progress. Even if he had to earn each stat point with blood and sweat, at least the system responded fairly.
The same training wouldn't work twice in a row. That much was clear.
But if he diversified his exercises… every day could be another step toward overwhelming strength.
By the time he finally dragged himself up from the floor, his body felt sturdier than before. Not by much—but it was there. That subtle difference, that edge.
He could feel the change.
But then another problem reared its head.
His stomach rumbled.
Loudly.
He blinked. "...Am I that hungry?"
Apparently, pushing your body to the limit three times in a row burned a lot more calories than sitting around fantasizing about the plot of the anime.
Shin wandered into the kitchen, opened the cupboard, and pulled out what little he had: a few loaves of dry bread, a couple of wrinkled potatoes, and a jar of water.
It wasn't much. In fact, it was everything.
He quickly boiled the potatoes, tore the bread into manageable chunks, and sat at the small wooden table, devouring every last crumb without ceremony. Hunger made even the blandest food feel like a feast.
By the time he was done, his plate was empty and his belly was full—a little too full.
He leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach with a burp.
"Ugh… what do I do if I eat too much?" he muttered.
He glanced toward the kitchen again, but it was barren now. No food. No ingredients. Just an old pan, a spoon, and some crumbs.
Shin reached for the old wallet tucked in the drawer and opened it.
The sight inside made him sigh.
A few worn bills. A couple of coins. That was it.
The relief money he received as the orphan of a fallen soldier only went so far, and now that he'd eaten through everything, he'd have to wait days before the next ration arrived.
"A single coin can ruin a hero," he said to himself bitterly. "I'm going to need a job…"
His golden finger was a blessing, yes—but it didn't come with free meals.
And food was important now. More than ever. Every training session pushed him to his limit. Without fuel, he wouldn't last long.
"Alright then… something that pays. Something physical. And something that lets me train without drawing too much attention."
He sifted through the options in his mind.
Laborer? Too slow. Messenger boy? Maybe, but the pay was low. Guard apprentice? Not strong enough yet.
He began cross-referencing job ideas with his knowledge of the current state of Shiganshina District. Eventually, he landed on something promising.
"Construction crews… they always need extra hands," he muttered. "Plenty of lifting, hauling, movement—perfect for strength training. And it pays."
With his mind made up, Shin stood and stretched.
Tomorrow, he'd ask around. Get a recommendation. Maybe one of the local foremen would take him in. He was thirteen—strong for his age—and clearly willing to work.
That would cover the food problem. And with the system by his side, every day on the job could be one step closer to becoming a monster among men.
This was just the beginning.
And Shin had no intention of staying weak in a world full of Titans.
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A/N: Please Leave A Comment Or Drop A Powerstone It'll mean alot to me...