Chapitre 4: Power
He barely remembered how long it had been since he was sold. Days? Weeks? It was all a blur. The noblewoman who had bought him—a tall, elegant figure named Madame Rose—was unlike anyone he had ever met. Her painted face, always covered in thick makeup, seemed to hide something darker beneath the surface. But she hadn't beaten him, hadn't screamed like the other slavers. No, her control was quieter, more insidious. And as long as he stayed obedient, she left him alone.
His new life, though better than the underworld he had come from, was suffocating in its own way. He was always working—cleaning floors, tending to the garden, and fetching water. The other servants, mostly older women, kept their distance from him, whispering about how lucky he was to be under Madame Rose's care. 'Lucky'. The word left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"Get up, boy!" a stern voice barked. One of the maids—a gray-haired woman named Natalia—stood over him, hands on her hips. "You're on laundry duty today."
He nodded wordlessly, pulling himself to his feet. His limbs moved on autopilot now, as though his body had already memorized the routines.
As he carried a basket full of linens through the wide hallways of Madame Rose's estate, his eyes darted to the ornate tapestries hanging on the walls. Each one depicted scenes of grandeur—battles, royal processions, and the towering walls in the background. The Walls... the boy's heart skipped a beat whenever he looked at them. They were a constant reminder of what this world had in store for him.
The walls that protected humanity from the titans. Marley, they called this city.
He was inside the world of Attack on Titan.
He knew what was coming—he knew the disaster that would soon tear this world apart. But what could he do? He was just a slave, a nobody.
"Boy!" Neatalia's voice snapped him out of his daze. She was watching him from the doorway, her expression tight with irritation. "Keep your head straight. Madame Rose doesn't pay for daydreamers."
He nodded, muttering an apology. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself.
The hours passed in silence as he scrubbed and wrung out the cloths, his hands raw and sore. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was living on borrowed time. If he was in this world, then surely the events of the anime would play out soon. The walls would fall. The titans would come. And he… he would be crushed like any other nameless casualty.
But there was a part of him, deep down, that refused to accept that fate. He had been given this second life as cruel as it was he was going to live it. There had to be more to it than scrubbing floors and folding laundry until the titans trampled him into dust.
As dusk fell, he returned to the servant quarters, his body aching from the day's labor. The other servants whispered among themselves as they shared what little food they were given—stale bread and thin soup. He ate in silence, his thoughts heavy with the weight of the future.
When the meal was over, he made his way to his sleeping mat, ready to collapse. But before he could lie down, the door creaked open, and a shadow fell over him.
"Boy," a soft voice called.
He looked up to see Madame Rose standing in the doorway, her tall figure cloaked in a deep purple gown. Her face was painted with the same heavy makeup as always, her eyes gleaming with a strange intensity.
"Come with me," she said, her voice smooth yet commanding.
The other servants immediately averted their eyes, shrinking back into the shadows. He felt a cold knot form in his stomach but followed her without a word. As he trailed behind her down the hall, his mind raced with questions. Why him? Why now?
Madame Rose led him to a small, dimly lit room—a study filled with books and strange artifacts. She closed the door behind them and turned to face him, her gaze piercing.
"You've been doing well, haven't you?" she asked, her tone almost sweet. "Such a diligent worker for someone so young."
He said nothing, his eyes fixed on the floor. He had learned long ago that speaking out of turn only brought trouble.
"Do you know why I bought you?" she asked, stepping closer, her voice lowering. "You're special."
He froze. Special? He was just a boy—a boy who barely understood this new world he had been thrown into.
Her hand reached out, lifting his chin so that he had no choice but to meet her gaze. There was something unsettling in her eyes, something hungry.
"I can sense it," she whispered. "Power… buried deep within you."
He flinched at her touch, an uneasy feeling curling in his chest. 'Power? What was she talking about?'.
"You'll understand soon enough," she said, her voice dripping with a dangerous promise. "We all have roles to play in this world. And yours… will be magnificent."
She released him, turning away as though the conversation had ended. His mind was spinning, his heart pounding in his chest, he thought 'What did she mean? What was she planning?'.
"Return to your quarters," she ordered without looking at him. "We'll speak again soon."
He left the room in a daze, her words echoing in his mind. Power? He had no power. He was a slave, barely more than a shadow in this house. But as he lay down on his straw mat, staring up at the dark ceiling, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming.
And whatever it was, it would change everything.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
Ramon69
Ramon69 Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more POWER. I NEED MORE POWER!!!.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone