Road to Hell

Shadows and survival

A/N

~ Hello everyone ~

This story is slightly different from my usual style, but I've had this idea for over a year, and two or three weeks ago I just had the urge to finish it. So, this is the result, I guess. There are no other TWs except for the ones already mentioned in the tags, but if you like stories with a rollercoaster of emotions and stories that make you FEEL things, not just simply feel, then I really hope you'll give this one a shot. Also, Levi in the Underground outfit, like??? Is anyone with me or am I the only one obsessed with his Underground looks? I'm going to stop rambling now and let you read.

Thank you for giving this story a chance!
I really hope you enjoy it!

PS. Any resemblance to other AoT-based works is purely coincidental and unintentional. The MC's nickname and abilities were inspired by Leigh Bardugo's character from Six of Crows, Inej Ghafa. (Best girl, highly recommend SoC)
PPS. This story will be updated twice a week starting from today.

Chapter song: Red7 - Heartbeat

The smell of shit.

That was the only constant thing in the Underground.

Turn right, shit. Turn left, shit. Front and back, all shit.

People died more often than left this cursed place, but the smell of crap accompanied you wherever you went - stinging your nostrils and reminding you that you were still alive and kicking.

That you still hadn't given up.

In that sense, the smell of shit was also comforting and familiar. No matter how stifling this place could get sometimes.

But living in the slums could have its perks too, if you knew how to play your cards right.

"It's the third fucking time this week! How do they steal without ANYONE noticing anything?!"

"I'm so sorry sir, I-"

Angry droplets of spit falling from his mouth, the older merchant's face bled scarlet with fury. "Do you have any idea how much I paid to smuggle this stuff in this shithole?! How the hell did they steal MY money right from under YOUR nose?! Where the hell were you?!"

"I-I don't know, sir! The bag was right here in my hand, I swear on the Walls!" The younger man said, hands fidgeting nervously and sweat gathering at his temples the more he searched his pockets.

You'd be a liar if you said you didn't enjoy watching his struggles.

It was in vain, of course, bag tightly secured inside your breast pocket. Stealing it had been a piece of candy. The poor idiot didn't even question the reason his horse was acting up. You hated using animals as a diversion, but you had no other way if you didn't want to go back home empty-handed.

If your mother had thought you one thing before she died, that was to never turn your back on money. Literally and figuratively.

After that, snatching the bag right from his hand, and replacing it with a fake one, was child's play. If you acted fast enough, people didn't have the time to register the exchange, as long as the bag was the exact weight and size as the one you aimed for.

And your father's mathematical skills came into play for that.

At least, that was what your mother had told you from the moment she noticed your peculiar abilities to calculate the size just by eye only. Not that you ever met your father, of course, and your mother was a lying cunt who immediately sold you, the moment feeding both of you became too much of a hassle.

If she had to choose between raising a sickly child and surviving by herself, your mother had no trouble making that decision. Maybe you two were more similar than you wanted to admit.

Well, you turned out better than she did, that's for sure. At least you didn't end up dead in a ditch, all alone, and with who knows what travelling through your bloodstream.

That was the last time you saw your mother. And that was the last time you allowed yourself to feel pity for anyone other than yourself.

The Underground was no place for pity. Not if you wanted to survive. And despite everything, you were good at surviving.

Embraced by shadows, your hiding spot was the perfect place to observe the same scene over and over again every time you stole from one of those leeches. Everyone in the Underground knew they were buying their way to get inside, only to sell their products ten times what they were worth.

You may be the one hiding in the dark, but they were bigger thieves than you would ever be. Needless to say, most people couldn't afford them. It was like dangling a bone in front of a starving dog.

Cruel. Unfair. Inhumane.

But then again, people from the Underground weren't exactly considered humans by the snobs from above, were they?

The sound of a slap echoed, and before you knew it, the older merchant was straddling the boy you stole from. His face was turning a concerning shade of purple the more the beast strangled him.

And a second before you heard the cracking of bones, you turned around and left. No sympathy inside your heart, feet light as they carried you towards what you called your home for the past couple of years.

No, life in the Underground was far from simple. Murder was as common as breathing and selling your body for a scrap of bread became a routine in this godforsaken world.

And despite everything, all of you were fighting to survive. Shows just how stubborn humans can be.

You were the most stubborn of all.

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