Even when he sat quietly, Adrian carried a presence that steadied the people around him.
Perhaps it was because he had managed to feed so many children in this starving world. Perhaps it was the quiet confidence that radiated from him, born of survival and strength.
This time, Adrian wasn't just heading out to sell maltose. He was watching. Learning. The world above the Underground was still in its early days of peace. The three great walls—Maria, Rose, and Sina—had not yet been completed. The Titans had yet to appear.
It was a rare, precious window of time. And Adrian intended to use it to grow as strong as possible.
…
Two months later.
East Underground Street.
The commercial district.
No matter how poor a place, there was always wealth hidden within. The Underground was no different. The commercial street thrived beneath the shadows of the capital, a domain controlled by the merchants who gripped the lifeline of the black market economy.
Here, ugliness reigned. Slave trading, gambling dens, fighting pits, and contraband markets operated openly. Aside from the absence of sunlight, the district's prosperity rivaled that of the surface.
Adrian walked calmly through the bustling street, Isabel following closely at his side. She wore new clothes, her once thin, sallow frame now fuller, her cheeks touched with color.
"Boss, what are we doing here?" she asked. Two months ago, she would have trembled to even speak. Now, after training and steady meals, she looked up to him with both intimacy and reverence.
Adrian's figure had changed as well. Under the system's influence, his body had grown rapidly. Though only ten years old, he already stood a head taller than most children—nearly 1.7 meters—with broad shoulders and a steady, confident gait. His face still carried traces of youth, but his bearing was that of a young man.
"I'm buying a shop," Adrian said simply.
Isabel blinked, stunned. "A… a shop? Boss, you're not joking?"
Adrian didn't answer. He strode forward with the calmness of someone who already owned the street. His clothes were neat and mature, his posture straight, his gaze sharp—he looked more like a noble than a boy from the Underground.
"A store will make things easier," Adrian added. "We need a front for business. With it, selling will become much more convenient."
In just half a year, he had turned ten steel coins into more than two hundred gold coins.
Two hundred gold—two hundred thousand steel coins. Enough to rival the savings of an established Underground merchant.
It still wasn't enough for a prime location, but for a modest storefront, it was more than sufficient. And Adrian knew this was only the beginning.
Isabel's jaw dropped. She had lived in the Underground her entire life. She knew exactly how unreachable shops were. They belonged to nobles, merchants, and the powerful—never to street orphans like her.
But Adrian ignored her shock. He kept walking, his eyes fixed on the busy street ahead.
…
Three days later.
East Underground Street.
In a broad square lit by shafts of sunlight filtering down from the surface, Adrian's voice carried over the assembled group.
Dozens of children stood at attention, their thin faces nervous under his cold gaze. The square had been cleared and repurposed—this was Adrian's new training base. At its front, a stone platform rose a meter high, eight meters long, where he now stood, arms folded.
His presence alone pressed on the group like a weight. Even when he glanced idly over them, many felt fear prickle down their spines.
Fifty children. All recently gathered. All orphans who had clawed their way through the filth of the Underground.
Adrian let the silence stretch before he spoke.
"This morning's meal was rich," he said evenly. "It won't just be today. In the future, you will all eat well—if you prove yourselves."
His gaze sharpened.
"I don't raise waste. If you can't meet my standards, or don't have the courage to try, leave now."
A hush fell over the square. No one moved.
"Then listen carefully," Adrian continued. "Today's task is simple: run. Circle this entire training ground. Run until I say stop. And hear this—"
His voice cut like steel.
"The last person to finish doesn't eat."
The children stiffened. Some exchanged nervous glances. For them, food was everything. To lose a meal was a punishment harsher than any beating.
"Do you understand?" Adrian demanded.
A chorus of uneven voices answered him.
"Y-Yes!"
"Understood!"
"Yes, boss!"
Fear mingled with hunger in their eyes. But Adrian also saw something else—a glimmer of ferocity, the will to fight and endure.
Fifty children, barely ten years old on average. Weak, untrained, half-starved. But each had survived the Underground this long. That alone made them different from ordinary children.
They knew what his words meant.
To fall behind was to be useless. And the useless did not survive.
--