That night, Adrian savored the rarest of luxuries—meat.
It was one of the few times in his life he had ever tasted it. The aroma filled the room, rich and enticing, and for a moment he simply sat there, holding the warm food in his hand.
Outside, faint sobs reached his ears. Levi's crying was soft, muffled, but unmistakable. Adrian closed his eyes. He knew what the boy was thinking—his mother.
The current Levi was nothing like the hardened, unshakable soldier of the original story. He was still a child—fragile, grieving, quick to tears.
"This world really is cruel…" Adrian murmured to himself.
He tore into the meat, chewing slowly. To be honest, it was only the second time since arriving in this world that he had eaten meat. The first had been thanks to Levi's uncle, Kenny Ackerman, who had briefly appeared after Levi's mother's death. Now, years later, Adrian had managed to obtain it on his own.
His late mother in this life had been a frugal, cautious woman, saving every last coin she could. It was because of her discipline that Adrian had survived at all.
…
System Panel
Host: Adrian Leonhart
World: Attack on Titan
Constitution: 1.3
Points: 0 (1.5%)
Skills: Cooking LV0, Fighting LV0, Forging LV0...
Adrian's gaze lingered on the panel. His points, which had been stuck at zero, now read 1.5%.
It wasn't much. But compared to the pace of the last eight years—when he had gained a single point only after endless hunger—it was a huge improvement. By his calculations, progress was now nearly thirty-six times faster than before.
The reason was clear. After strengthening his constitution, his appetite had grown. His digestion was faster, his body more efficient, and his meals now yielded far more energy.
So… increasing constitution doesn't just make me stronger—it makes the system advance faster too.
For a while, he considered funneling his next point into physique again. But in the end, he shook his head. His current strength was enough for survival. What he lacked now were practical skills.
…
A week later.
In a forgotten corner of the Underground, Adrian pushed open the door of a run-down but spacious house. Dust and cobwebs hung from the beams, though he had cleaned enough of it to make it livable.
Five children sat inside.
They were all gangsters he had subdued in recent weeks, the oldest no more than fifteen, the youngest barely seven. Skinny, hungry, desperate—yet loyal now, bound by Adrian's fists and the food he provided.
Alone, Adrian could only do so much. But with people, even children, he could start building a foundation.
It wasn't much—but it was a beginning.
Of course, he hadn't convinced them with words. In the Underground, loyalty came only through strength and survival. Adrian had given them both.
His own body, after just a single point into constitution, had grown noticeably. At eight years old, he already stood the size of an eleven-year-old, broad-shouldered and sharp-eyed.
Levi, though… Levi remained as small as ever. Just as in the story, Adrian suspected, he would never grow much taller.
The thought made him smile faintly.
…
"Boss!"
The door slammed open. Levi, Fran, and another boy stumbled inside, dirt-streaked and bloodied. A bright red gash ran across Levi's forehead.
"Docklin's men robbed us," Levi said bitterly, his voice trembling with rage. "They took the wheat. Said we owe protection money."
Adrian's eyes narrowed. He walked over and rested a hand on Levi's small shoulder.
"Go clean that wound. I'll handle it." His voice was calm, steady.
This was no surprise to him. In the Underground, conflict was inevitable. Where there were people, there were fights—and Docklin was no stranger to violence.
Docklin controlled the East District, leading more than a dozen boys who scraped by under his command. Adrian had crossed paths with him recently, after moving operations to the East for more space to brew maltose.
At the moment, Adrian had only a handful of followers. Five children and Levi—half a dozen at most. In terms of raw strength, they were no match for Docklin's gang.
But that didn't mean Adrian intended to bow his head. In the Underground, weakness was a death sentence.
He turned to Fran, who stood pale and trembling by the wall.
"Fran," Adrian said quietly, "I have a task for you."
Fran froze, then nodded quickly, relief flooding his face. He had feared Adrian would cast him out for failing. After all, Docklin was notorious—few dared cross him.
Fran, Levi, and the others had tried to resist, but they had been beaten down. The wheat was gone, stolen. In the Underground, that sack of wheat was worth as much as a human life—enough to buy a slave at market.
Fran clenched his fists, bowing his head. He had been terrified that Adrian would abandon him. But hearing the words "I have a task for you" eased that fear.
He wasn't discarded. He still had value.
And in the Underground, that meant everything.
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