My attributes are increasing infinitely Chapter 457: Slum district
Previously on My attributes are increasing infinitely...
Shadows enveloped Ethan tightly from all sides.
His eyes fluttered open, revealing only pitch black. Not a hint of light seeped in. The atmosphere hung heavy, moist, and reeked of decay. A gooey substance stuck to his flesh. His frame appeared ridiculously tiny, burdened, and feeble.
"Status."
A see-through interface appeared in his mind.
[Master: Ethan Hunt
Physique: 200 gm
Spirit: 200 gm
Talent: Infinite Comprehension
Age: 1 day]
For an instant, silence gripped even him.
"Yumiko," he thought silently. "Where am I?"
A short delay ensued.
[Master, you are inside a dustbin. You were discarded here shortly after birth. Your biological parents could not afford to feed another child.]
Ethan attempted to raise his arm.
It quivered faintly and scarcely budged.
The reality had reborn him as an infant and dumped him into waste.
The stench assaulted his nostrils. The oppressive cover weighed down from overhead. Famine clawed at his minuscule belly like a knife.
His breathing turned ragged.
"How can I possibly endure this?" he wondered. For the first time in the tower, intense desperation flooded his mind. "I'll choke before the test truly starts."
[When pedestrians approach, I will notify you. You must cry. There is a statistical probability that someone will investigate.]
Cry.
Ethan nearly chuckled at the ridiculousness. A entity who had ripped through dimensions now relied on primal sobs.
Two hours dragged on in choking gloom.
[Master. Someone is approaching.]
Ethan drew in the scant tainted air available and pushed noise from his delicate vocal cords.
"Wa... wa..."
The wail emerged faint and feeble.
Steps hesitated briefly.
Then they resumed.
The cover stayed shut.
Quietness settled back in.
[He has left. Conserve energy for later.]
In the following two hours, the cycle repeated. Ethan wailed three additional times. Once more forcefully. Once in raw desperation. Once with deliberate timing.
No one lifted the cover.
In the slums, forsaken babies were commonplace.
Famine intensified further over these four hours. His sight hazed even in the blackness.
"Is there another way?" he inquired.
[There is the third protocol. However, the strain may permanently damage your current vessel. Survival probability is low.]
Before Ethan could reply, steps neared once more.
This time they moved faster. More hurried.
A female voice pierced the alley.
"Those idiots cannot even use protection. They ruin their lives and then toss the child like trash."
The cover grated aside.
Brightness poured inside.
Ethan squinted as chilly breeze hit his features. A youthful female gazed at him from above. Her locks were pulled back casually. Her attire was threadbare yet spotless. Her face held a stern edge.
Then her eyes met his.
She paused.
"You are still alive," she grumbled.
She stretched in and scooped him up. Her grip was calloused yet firm.
"I will take you out of here," she stated bluntly. "Then I will hand you to the beggar syndicate. Whether you live or die after that is your luck."
To her, she was merely clearing debris from the road.
To Ethan, she represented a twist that reshaped his fate.
"Lady, you have no idea what karma you just claimed," he mused coolly.
She furrowed her brow a bit.
"Why are your eyes like that?"
Ethan’s stare remained fixed, remarkably sharp for a newborn. Briefly, she sensed herself under scrutiny.
"Do not look at me like that," she instructed, cradling him to her torso. "I cannot afford to raise you. I cannot even feed myself properly."
She kept moving forward.
The slum sprawled around in fractured pavement and tin sheets. Waste flowed in slim channels. Kids with sunken faces observed them wordlessly.
After a few paces, she decelerated.
Then halted.
She swore softly.
"I do not know what I am thinking."
Instead of heading to the syndicate’s area, she veered the other way.
Her name was Liria.
Her dwelling was scarcely more than a tight single chamber with a damaged mattress and a corroded cooker. She set Ethan down softly on the mattress and warmed liquid over a tiny fire.
She cleansed him meticulously, wiping away grime and crusted gore. Her actions were clumsy but gentle.
"You are troublesome," she grumbled. "You look like trouble."
Once cleaned, she bundled him in worn fabrics and laid him on the mattress.
"I will try to find milk," she said before departing.
As the entrance closed, Ethan turned his attention inward.
"Yumiko. World structure."
[This planet is named Xylem. It once belonged to a higher energy civilization eons ago. Residual traces remain in geological layers, but there is no accessible cosmic energy. It is currently a standard mortal world.]
"Combat potential?"
[Advanced firearms, industrial technology. Certain martial lineages exist. Exceptional individuals can deflect bullets or shatter stone. However, no one surpasses biological limitations.]
Ethan pondered this.
"So becoming the strongest within a year is not the real obstacle. The true task is locating the Axe of Chaos."
[Correct. The administrators may be testing your adaptability under suppression.]
He breathed out gradually.
"They want me to wait while other God Children cultivate."
[That is likely.]
Ethan gazed at the fissured roof.
"It does not matter. They misunderstand something fundamental."
Thirty minutes later, the entrance swung open.
Liria came in with a second female. The other was slimmer, clutching a infant girl.
"Sofia," Liria murmured softly. "Thank you for coming. I will repay you somehow."
Sofia offered a weary grin.
"You rescued a child. I was curious. But my daughter needs milk too. I can only spare a little."
Her attention turned to Ethan.
She stiffened.
"Now I understand."
"What?" Liria questioned.
"He does not look like a slum child."
Sofia settled next to the mattress and carefully picked up Ethan. She rearranged her outfit and nursed him.
Comfort flowed through his frame.
The ache in his gut subsided.
For the first time since rebirth, a sense of security washed over him.
"I can only give this much today," Sofia whispered gently. "I will return tomorrow."
"Thank you," Liria answered, dipping her head a touch.
Once Sofia departed, Liria swaddled Ethan snugger.
"The night will be cold," she whispered.
Five days elapsed.
Ethan developed at a rate that mocked natural laws.
On the fifth day, Liria gaped at him in shock.
"Is it just me," she uttered deliberately, "or have you grown too much?"
Ethan could now shift with purpose. His sinews toughened swiftly. His intellect, naturally, stayed the same.
Overrapid development would attract notice.
If the slum dwellers learned of him, they might peddle the details to authorities, and he could picture the outcome.
"Dissection tables," one idea struck him.
"I will leave tomorrow," he resolved inwardly.
That afternoon, Sofia came by again.
She paused at the threshold.
"Does he not look like a two year old now?" she breathed.
Liria’s complexion drained.
"You noticed it too?"
Sofia dropped to her knees by him and nursed him routinely, though worry shadowed her gaze.
"Perhaps it is some rare disease which is causing him to grow so fast," Liria suggested faintly.
Sofia shook her head but remained silent.
The following day, Liria came back from foraging.
The moment her sight hit the mattress, she went rigid. It lay vacant.
The fabrics were stacked tidily.
For a few moments, she stayed motionless.
Then her respiration hastened.
"Who took him?"
She ransacked the space wildly. Beneath the mattress. Beside the cooker.
Nothing.
Her fingers shook.
"I will find whoever did this," she hissed, tears flowing down her cheeks. "Even if it is a gang. I will kill them."
Her fury concealed a profound emotion.
Attachment. She had come to see Ethan as her own boy. Thus his abrupt vanishing wounded her deeply.
In a slim nook of the slum, away from busy routes, Ethan huddled amid piled rubbish.
His form now mimicked a young kid’s instead of a babe’s. Expansion had evened to a steadier pace.
He observed the far-off huts quietly.
"I need seven more days," he reckoned.