It was 6:30 PM once again.
Aiden carried his third serving of dinner back to his usual corner by the window.
Old Hank, the cooking squad leader who was eating at a nearby table, watched him plate another meal. Hanging a cigarette from his lip, he grumbled indistinctly, "Hey, kid... are you trying to stuff three people's worth of food into one stomach?"
Aiden simply nodded without speaking, quietly lifting a spoonful of vegetable stew into his mouth.
Three months had passed since he transmigrated into this world.
Relying on the [Physical Improvement] provided by the system, Aiden's body had undergone a savage second growth spurt.
In just three months, his height had shot up from less than 1.6 meters to his current 1.85 meters. His shoulders had broadened, and his Marine uniform—which usually remained unchanged for years—now felt a bit tight against his frame.
Initially, his staggering appetite and physical changes had caused some trouble.
It was about a month ago.
That day, the same group of veterans who liked to pick fights stopped him in the cafeteria. They mocked him for being a "starving ghost reborn" and tried to snatch his meal tray.
Before that, Aiden had always adhered to the principle of "less trouble is better than more," choosing to ignore the various forms of exclusion and harassment.
But that day, the sense of hunger—magnified countless times by his body—overwhelmed the patience of his adult soul.
Aiden didn't waste words.
The moment the other man's hand touched the tray, he moved.
By the time the crowd realized what was happening, all three veterans were already on the ground, clutching their stomachs and doubled over in pain.
As for Aiden, he simply picked up his tray in silence and walked to his corner under everyone's awe-stricken gazes to finish his meal.
From that day on, no one dared to trouble him again.
Even his social standing at the Loguetown Marine Base improved instantly.
No one dared to call him "bad luck" to his face anymore. The looks of disdain he once received had turned into reverence. Though he was still lonely, at least he had gained some peace.
"As expected, no matter which world you're in, the fist is the most effective way to communicate."
Aiden complained inwardly as he swallowed the last bite of black bread.
Through the transparent window glass beside him, he could see his own blurry reflection.
The teenager in the reflection still had handsome features, though his face was gradually gaining sharp, defined contours. Those eyes no longer held the terror and confusion he felt when he first arrived; there was only a deep, bottomless calm.
He had become somewhat accustomed to life here.
Leaning back in his chair, he enjoyed the long-lost feeling of fullness while sensing the power within his body—a power vastly different from three months ago.
"This feeling of constantly growing stronger is truly addictive."
Aiden clenched his fist, feeling the solid sense of strength as his thoughts drifted further.
"But... it's still far from enough."
"To have the power to protect myself in this chaotic world, or even to live a comfortable life, I'll need to at least have the strength of an Admiral or an Emperor, right?"
And the opportunity to reach the top in one leap was right here on this island.
"Gol D. Roger... just when are you going to turn yourself in?" The lack of any news over these past three months was making Aiden a bit anxious.
Since he didn't know how much longer he would have to wait, Aiden suppressed his unrealistic fantasies and pulled his attention back to the present.
He thought about the execution he had completed yesterday morning.
[Prisoner: "Iron Hook" Jack]
[Overall Grade: C7]
...
[Selectable Rewards]:
[Option 1: Minor Physical Improvement]
[Option 2: Skill Inheritance · Basic Navigation]
Aiden had chosen [Minor Physical Improvement] without the slightest hesitation.
He had been prepared to welcome the surge of scorching energy and the subsequent feeling of weakness.
However—
The expected violent energy did not appear. A flow of energy that could only be described as "lukewarm" entered his body. It circled around without much sensation and then... vanished.
Aiden could feel that his strength had indeed increased slightly, but compared to what he had expected—or even compared to his previous reinforcements—it was far too little!
The subsequent hunger was also nowhere near as intense as before; it just made him feel as if he had "forgotten to eat breakfast."
Ever since his [Physical Level] broke through from [Novice] to [Intermediate] a month ago, this feeling had become increasingly obvious. These N-rank pirates who acted like big shots around Loguetown could no longer provide him with much "nourishment."
The old feeling of power gushing out had now dwindled to a "better than nothing" warm current.
"Can't they work a little harder and catch some powerful pirates?" Aiden sighed in his heart. With a thought, he opened his personal status panel.
Name: Aiden
Age: 15
Rank: Seaman Apprentice
[Physical Level]: Intermediate
[Talent]: None
[Skills]: Swordsmanship (Novice), Marksmanship (Novice)
[Points]: 2150
Breaking through to [Intermediate] in his [Physical Level] was his greatest gain over these three months. As for the various miscellaneous skills he had drawn during this time, he only kept the most practical ones—[Swordsmanship] and [Marksmanship]—giving him at least a few decent methods to face an enemy.
As for those two thousand-plus points, Aiden felt a pang of annoyance looking at the still-greyed-out shop icon.
"Having money but nowhere to spend it... this feels worse than being in debt."
As for his rank, it had been promoted one level a month ago to Seaman Apprentice. It was still a no-salary position, providing only free meals and uniforms.
After finishing his meal, Aiden organized his thoughts on the way back to the dormitory.
To ensure he didn't become too repulsed by the job of an "executioner," and to better understand his "performance," he had gone to the base's archives during these three months to flip through the files of the pirates he had executed.
He discovered that the system's [Sin Index] was not fabricated out of thin air.
As long as the [Sin Index] exceeded 100, the crimes recorded in the files were enough to easily merit a death sentence by the universal values of his previous life.
As for the guy with the highest [Sin Index] he had seen so far—550—Aiden felt that taking him out to be shot for five minutes would have been doing him a favor.
This realization allowed Aiden's modern soul to gradually replace the guilt of killing with a numbing sensation of clearing away trash.
He wasn't killing people; he was cleaning up garbage.
Returning to his small, private room and changing his clothes, Aiden lay on his bed in a state of boredom.
Knock, knock, knock.
A somewhat hesitant knocking sounded.
Aiden frowned and opened the door to find a familiar-looking ordinary Marine standing there.
Right now, however, that Marine's face wore a smile tinged with flattery and reverence.
"Aiden... sir," the Marine said, stiffly using a respectful title. "Orders from above. Tomorrow afternoon... you have another assignment."
"Understood," Aiden replied flatly, preparing to close the door.
"Ah, please wait!" The Marine hurriedly pulled a file from behind his back and handed it over with both hands. "This is... the file for this prisoner."
This was a first. In the past, those officers had only treated him as a gun that didn't need to think; they never showed him these things.
Ever since they learned that Aiden had a habit of going to the archives, they were now actually taking the initiative to deliver the files to him.