It was still 6:30 in the evening.
Carrying his third serving of dinner, Rain walked back to his usual corner by the window.
Old Hank, the cook sergeant, was eating at a nearby table. When he saw Rain get another helping, he muttered around the cigarette hanging from his lips, "Hey, kid… you trying to stuff three people's meals into one stomach or what?"
Rain just nodded without answering, quietly spooning the vegetable stew into his mouth.
It had been three months since he crossed into this world.
Relying on the [Physique Inheritance] from the system, Rain's body had gone through a brutal second growth spurt.
In just three months, his height had shot up from under 1.6 meters to 1.85. His shoulders had broadened, and the standard-issue Marine uniform that had always fit loosely now looked faintly tight on him.
At first, his insane appetite and sudden physical changes did cause him some trouble.
About a month ago.
That day, it was the same few veteran soldiers who loved picking on him. They stopped him in the mess hall, mocked him for being a "starved ghost reincarnated," and tried to snatch his tray.
Up until then, Rain had always followed the rule "less trouble is better than more." He'd chosen to ignore all kinds of exclusion and harassment.
But that day, the hunger in his body—amplified countless times over—crushed the patience of the adult soul inside him.
Rain didn't say a word.
The second their hands touched his tray, he moved.
By the time everyone realized what had happened, those three veterans were already on the floor, clutching their stomachs and curling up like boiled shrimp.
Rain, meanwhile, simply picked his tray back up and, under everyone's awed stares, walked to his usual corner and continued eating.
From that day on, no one dared mess with him again.
His standing in the Loguetown Marine base even improved overnight.
No one dared call him "bad luck" to his face anymore, and those eyes that used to look at him with disdain now held fear and respect. He was still alone—but at least he'd earned some peace and quiet.
"As expected, no matter what world you're in, fists are the most effective way to communicate."
Rain grumbled inwardly, swallowing the last bite of black bread.
On the glass window next to him, he could see his own blurry reflection.
The boy in the reflection still had a delicate face, but his features were gradually becoming sharper and more defined. The fear and confusion from when he first arrived were gone from his eyes, leaving only a bottomless calm.
He was starting to get used to life here.
Leaning back in his chair, enjoying the rare feeling of being truly full, he also took the time to feel the power in his body—so completely different from three months ago.
"This feeling of getting stronger bit by bit… really is addictive."
Rain clenched his fist, savoring that solid sense of strength, and his thoughts drifted farther.
"But… it's still nowhere near enough."
"If I want to have the power to protect myself in this chaotic world—let alone live comfortably—I'll need at least… Admiral-level strength, right?"
And the chance to skip straight to the top was on this very island.
"Gol D. Roger… when are you going to turn yourself in already?" Three months with no sign at all was starting to make Rain anxious.
Not knowing how long he'd have to wait, he forced those unrealistic fantasies down and pulled his focus back to the present.
He thought of the execution he'd carried out just yesterday morning.
[Prisoner: "Iron Hook" Jack]
[Overall Rank: N7]
…
[Selectable Rewards]:
Physique Inheritance (Minor)
Skill Inheritance: Basic Navigation
Rain had, as always, chosen [Physique Inheritance] without hesitation.
He'd already braced himself for that scorching surge of energy and the wave of weakness afterward.
However—
The violent energy he expected never came. Instead, a warmth that could barely be called "hot" flowed into his body, circled around without causing pain or strain, and then… vanished.
Rain did feel his strength increase a little, but it was far below his expectations—worse than any of his previous upgrades.
The hunger that followed wasn't nearly as bad either; it just felt like "oops, I forgot to eat breakfast."
Ever since a month ago, when his [Physique Tier] had broken through from [Basic] to [Intermediate], this feeling had become more and more obvious—these N-rank pirates throwing their weight around near Loguetown were providing less and less "nutritional value" for him.
The explosive surges of power from before had now shrunk into a "better than nothing" warm current.
"Can't you guys work a bit harder and catch some strong pirates?" Rain sighed inwardly and opened his personal panel with a thought.
Name: Corvo Rain
Age: 15
Rank: Seaman Second Class
[Physique Tier]: Intermediate
[Talent]: None
[Skills]: Swordsmanship (Basic), Marksmanship (Basic)
[Sin Points]: 2150
Breaking his [Physique] through to [Intermediate] was his biggest gain in the last three months. As for the random skills he'd drawn during that time, he'd kept only the most practical ones—[Swordsmanship] and [Marksmanship]—finally giving him some decent options in a fight.
As for those 2,000-plus points, one look at the still-grey shop icon made his teeth ache.
"Having money and nowhere to spend it feels worse than being broke."
He'd also been promoted one rank a month ago, to Seaman Second Class—but he still wasn't paid. All he got was three free meals and a uniform.
On his way back to the dorm after dinner, Rain sorted through his thoughts.
To keep from developing too much resistance to his "executioner" job, and to better understand his own "performance," he'd spent the last three months visiting the base archives to read the files of the pirates he'd executed.
He found that the system's [Sin Index] wasn't pulled out of thin air.
For anyone with a [Sin Index] over 100, the crimes listed in their file were easily enough to warrant the death penalty by the standards of his previous life.
As for the worst one he'd seen so far—with a [Sin Index] of 550—Rain felt that even five solid minutes of firing squad would be going easy on the guy.
With that perspective, the guilt in his modern heart about killing people had gradually been replaced by a numb sense of taking out the trash.
He wasn't killing people. He was cleaning up garbage.
Back in his tiny room that was his alone, Rain changed clothes and lay on the bed, bored out of his mind.
Knock, knock, knock.
A slightly hesitant knock sounded at the door.
Rain frowned, opened it, and saw a regular Marine standing there—someone who looked vaguely familiar.
Right now, though, the man's face carried a flattering, slightly fearful smile.
"Sir Rain…" the Marine forced himself to use an honorific, "orders from above—tomorrow afternoon… there's another assignment for you."
"Got it," Rain replied coolly, about to close the door.
"Ah, p-please wait!" The Marine quickly pulled a file from behind his back and held it out with both hands. "This is… the prisoner's case file for this mission."
That was a first. Until now, the officers had just treated him like a gun that didn't need to think, never giving him any of this.
But ever since they learned he had a habit of visiting the archives, they actually started bringing the files to him themselves.