Inside the training ground—
Puff—Puff—Puff!
With a burst of compressed air, Lock shot across the field like a streak of light. His blades gleamed as he swung with precision. The wooden posts ahead—each reinforced with thick sheets of iron—split cleanly in half and crashed to the ground.
Thud!
Landing steadily in front of Elder and the others, Lock calmly handed them the dual blades.
"This… how is this possible?!"
Not only Elder, but also Petra, Gunther, and Oluo stared in disbelief.
What Lock had cut through wasn't ordinary wood—it was an iron-wrapped stump, the metal plating nearly a centimeter thick. With any standard black iron blade, the edges would have bent or chipped beyond repair. Yet these swords remained flawless. The only marks were faint surface scratches, shallow enough to be ignored.
"A damn fine pair of blades…" the four of them muttered in unison.
Elder instinctively reached for them, eager to test their weight.
As elite members of the Survey Corps, they all understood how crucial high-quality blades were in combat.
Seeing Elder about to keep them for himself, the others immediately scowled.
But Elder's mind worked quickly. He laughed, masking his greed, and said, "Don't glare at me. Lock must have new ones ready. I'll just take these old blades off his hands, reluctantly."
"Shameless!"
"Completely shameless!"
"Too shameless!"
Oluo, Petra, and Gunther shot back in unison, fuming. Then, almost as one, they turned their gazes to Lock, eyes filled with expectation.
Lock only shrugged. "So far, we've forged six. Four were already reserved for me by agreement with the captain. The remaining two are in Elder's hands."
"You're hogging four for yourself? Rookie, that's not fair at all!" Oluo snapped.
Even the usually steady Gunther spoke up. "You could at least spare two of them."
"I agree with Gunther," Petra added with a small nod.
I don't care what you think. I only care what I think, Lock almost retorted. Instead, he sighed and replied helplessly, "It can't be helped. My name is already engraved on all four blades. But… if you don't mind that, take them."
"Shameless!"
"Still shameless!"
"Absolutely shameless!"
The three barked at him again, their frustration rising.
Soon after, the group wandered into the workshop. The clang of hammer on steel rang out, flames roaring in the forge.
The others squinted against the smoke, eyes drawn to the blacksmiths working bare-chested in the heat. Petra's cheeks flushed red—it was unclear whether from the haze or from embarrassment at the sight.
"You all don't plan to just squat here forever, do you?" Lock teased.
Taking a freshly polished blade from Uncle Harry, Lock studied the small inscription near the hilt—"Lo" etched neatly into the steel. The balance in his grip felt perfect. These weren't just weapons. They were his future partners.
Watching enviously, Gunther muttered, "I've decided. Next time, I'm engraving my name on mine too."
"Will it say 'Get Lost'?" Oluo jeered, drawing laughter from Elder and Petra.
"It's Gun-ther, not 'Gun'!" Gunther snapped.
"Ohhh, I see. So it does mean 'Go away.'"
"…"
Gunther's face darkened. "You're insufferable."
"Thanks for the compliment," Oluo said smugly, pretending not to care.
His attention, though, was already drifting toward the blazing furnace.
The bickering finally simmered down. All that remained was the rhythmic ring of iron and the quiet hum of conversation.
Lock glanced at Elder, Petra, and Gunther, who had joined the blacksmiths in discussing engravings, and smirked. "Old man, looks like you'll have to wait until the next batch to get your knife."
"Why's that?"
Following Lock's gaze, Oluo realized the truth and cursed under his breath. "You sly bastard…" Then, without hesitation, he too joined the others in the forging debate.
Seeing their excitement, Lock knew he wouldn't get their attention back today. So he gathered his four sabers and headed out.
Back at the training ground, he replaced the old blades on his vertical maneuvering equipment with the new ones.
Every Survey Corps soldier had their own registered set of gear. Not just for combat efficiency, but also for casualty reports. After all, against Titans, there were often no bodies left intact. But gear usually remained, serving as the only record of who had fallen.
After more than ten minutes of adjustments, Lock tightened the last clasp, replaced the gas cylinders, and set the gear on the table. He leaned back, exhaling.
His thoughts drifted. What excuse should I use to remain in Shiganshina District?
By his estimate, Erwin—now officially in command—would soon make his opening moves. The Survey Corps would inevitably march out again.
The government's refusal to resupply the forward base had been nothing more than a warning shot, testing Erwin's resolve. But from what Lock knew of him, Erwin wouldn't be swayed by such trivial tactics. New missions would arrive soon enough.
And with them, the long-anticipated event—the fall of Shiganshina—would finally begin.
For all the seeming peace in the air, unease stirred in Lock's chest.
That tranquility was shattered in an instant.
"Lock! We came to see you!"
Eren's loud, boyish voice rang across the grounds.
Lock pinched the bridge of his nose. Does this kid think this is some kind of playground?
Sure enough, Eren, Armin, and Mikasa came sprinting over, waving like excited children.
Ordinarily, the Survey Corps' base was strictly off-limits to cadets. But since Lock had taken the role of their unofficial leader, no one bothered to stop them anymore.
He stood to meet them, shaking his head in faint amusement.
But then—his eyes flicked toward the city wall.
And froze.
A massive, steaming face loomed above the ramparts. The heat rolling off it made the air waver.
Lock's entire body went rigid.
"…Why is it appearing now?!"
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A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
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