Ryan woke up, carried back by a hunter. At the time, his head was wrapped in bandages.
Ryan Ackerman, 12 years old. He was born on December 25, 835—Christmas Day on Earth, the same birthday as the Son of God, Jesus. But in this world... sorry, it meant nothing.
Now it was the summer of 847. Word was that the Southern 104th Training Corps was recruiting, and Ryan planned to enlist. Or rather, he had no choice.
Because if he didn't, he'd probably starve to death and become just another failed transmigrator.
Yes, Ryan was a transmigrator. He had two names in his previous life, but now he was simply Ryan.
The real Ryan had died a month ago. While hunting, he was chased by a bear and should have died in its maw.
But in that life-or-death moment, a powerful force suddenly surged from within Ryan. His control over his body drastically increased.
Did he kill the bear?
Of course not. He wasn't Russian. A minor couldn't possibly defeat a black bear.
His bow and arrows had dropped earlier, so all he could do was run for his life. After a mad dash, he finally lost the bear with its gaping jaws.
But heaven showed no mercy to this youth.
Just as he slowed down from his escape, he tripped on some vines on the ground. Exhausted, he tumbled down a slope.
He wasn't careful. Missed a step. Smashed his head into a large rock—and died.
Then the transmigrator Ryan opened his eyes, wiped the blood off his face, and found himself being carried piggyback by a hunter, brought to a small village on the forest's edge.
"Ryan, you feeling better? I heard you're joining the training corps too," the middle-aged hunter who carried him back asked in a courtyard.
"I'm fine now, Uncle Braus. It's been a month. I'm planning to enlist and will be leaving in the next few days."
Uncle Braus, dressed like a hunter with a hat, smiled.
"Ryan, you're a strong young man. But going off to get revenge on that bear half a month ago—that was too reckless. Not the cautiousness a hunter should have.
I don't know how you managed to kill it, but that was dangerous! Living on your own isn't easy. If you have trouble, talk to us. I've known your father for ten years. He's gone now, so I should look out for you a bit."
Ryan nodded and smiled.
"Thanks for caring, Uncle. I'm already 12 and can take care of myself. This time, I'll become a powerful soldier and drive out the Titans. Then everyone can hunt safely in the forest again!"
As a transmigrator, he had a few tricks. Even though he didn't seem to have a system, this was actually his second transmigration.
At 14, he had woken up in another world in the body of a teenager.
That world wasn't from any novel or anime he knew. As he was panicking, he was tested and found to have a rare knightly talent—1 in 1,000. He joined a border knight regiment of the empire to train in Holy Battle Aura.
Normally, that would mean a legendary rise. He was so excited he could barely sleep!
Then reality slapped him hard.
That so-called "Holy Battle Aura" was nothing like fantasy. Forget flying or splitting mountains—it couldn't even release sword beams. It was invisible, intangible, and had no flashy effects.
It only enhanced physical abilities and could be applied to fists, blades, or arrows to increase damage.
And what were their enemies? Orcs—iron-skinned, monstrously strong, and terrifying.
He had some talent. After a year and a half of training and half a year of real combat, he became an elite knight capable of killing orcs one-on-one.
And then… nothing.
The Thorn Knight Regiment, one of twenty at the border, was ambushed and nearly wiped out.
No miracles. No saving the day. No shouting your way into victory. Outnumbered and overwhelmed.
Before dying, he took seven orcs with him. No miracles, except that he transmigrated again. This time, bringing with him the not-so-great Holy Battle Aura.
Half a month ago, he had used arrows enhanced with invisible Battle Aura to kill the bear. That avenged the original Ryan.
Braus sighed. When he heard that Rya wanted to drive out Titans, he felt both worried and proud.
Ten years ago, Ryan's father had brought 2-year-old Ryan to the village at the forest's edge and became a hunter, often hunting alongside him.
Two years ago—845—the Wall Maria was breached by Titans. Refugees flooded into Wall Rose. The forest was cleared, and food became scarce. Ryan's father ventured deep into the forest and never returned, leaving the 10-year-old to survive alone.
Now two years had passed. Ryan was 12—just old enough to enlist. Braus also planned to send his daughter to join the corps, so they'd go together and look out for one another.
"Sasha, come say hi to Ryan. You'll be going to enlist with him." Braus glanced toward a girl hiding behind a tree in the yard—Sasha Braus.
She had reddish-brown hair in a shoulder-length ponytail, a slim figure, and striking features. When free, she wore a medieval-style dress—a classic beauty.
Sasha peeked around the tree, then shyly stepped out. "H-Hi, I'm Sasha Braus. Pleased to meet you!"
Ryan facepalmed. "Sasha, we've met several times. No need to be so formal."
"A-ah, sorry..." Sasha mumbled, flustered and unsure what to say.
Braus looked exasperated. He couldn't delay anymore. He had to send his daughter to enlist. He'd planned to do it last year, but couldn't bear to let her go. Now, he had no choice.
She'd spent too long in the forest—she could barely communicate normally anymore. Plus, with how little food was left, he couldn't afford to keep feeding his gluttonous daughter.
Braus cleared his throat and turned serious. "Sasha, pack your things today. Tomorrow, you'll go enlist with Ryan. The village chief is heading out to get supplies, and you can ride with him."
Sasha puffed her cheeks and snapped at her dad. "Hmph! Fine! At least there'll be food in the army!"
She had argued with him days earlier about whether to abandon their hunting lifestyle and accept government rations and raise livestock. So even without Ryan, she would've been sent to enlist.
Seeing his daughter's tantrum, Braus sighed and turned to Ryan. "Ryan, you're usually sharp. When you get to the corps, please look after my foolish daughter."
"Don't worry, Uncle Braus. I'll keep an eye on her. I'm sure everyone will come to like her," Rein replied with a smile.
"Agh! Who are you calling foolish?! Hand over that grilled meat and apologize!" Sasha yelled, grabbing her father's arm. He struggled weakly—his daughter's appetite was too terrifying. If he didn't send her away, there'd be no food left.
Ryan returned home—a shabby little wooden hut.
It had almost no furniture. Dirt poor. The kind of place where the wind blew through the walls, and meals were rarely full.
He had nothing much to pack.
One decent set of clothes, some dry food, a water pouch, and a bit of money—earned from killing that bear half a month ago.
Thanks to that bear, he'd eaten okay for the past couple of weeks and even bought decent clothes. He didn't fight the bear just for revenge.
Compared to poverty, the bear was cuter—it was edible. Genuine bear paw. Tasted... acceptable.
Bear: (;Д｀)
That night, Ryan began practicing the knight's breathing technique. The world had changed, and the technique only worked at half efficiency here.
[Holy Battle Aura → Aura]
Still, thanks to the two years of cultivation in that strange fantasy world, he brought over a decent amount of Aura. Though it wasn't powerful—even weaker than what the knight order used to summon horses!
But if he coated his blades with it, it'd help him cut Titans a bit more easily. Better than nothing—he could only comfort himself with that.
Two hours later, his training was done. Normally, one hour a day was enough. But since it worked at half power in this world, he had to train more. Still, breathing techniques shouldn't be used more than three hours a day—or it'd cost you some lifespan. Not that Ryan thought he'd live long after joining the Survey Corps in three years anyway.
Titans were far scarier than orcs. Besides the nape, they had no weaknesses and were enormous.
Without Omni-directional mobility gear, he might be able to take down a few 3–4 meter Titans. But those 7–15 meter ones? He'd have no choice but to run—if he even could.
This "Aura" sounded impressive, but wasn't. It couldn't unleash ranged sword energy.
If attached to arrows, the energy would dissipate after 20 meters. And arrows didn't really work on Titans anyway. So he'd have to rely on high-tech gear—the Omni-directional Mobility Gear!
Clearly, science was the most powerful force. The true productive power. Everything else? Just gimmicks!