Lock stood amidst the aftermath of the brawl, the sounds of groaning zealots still echoing faintly across the construction site. Dust hung in the air like smoke after a battle. His knuckles ached faintly—not from injury, but from sheer overuse. Dozens of unconscious believers lay sprawled around him, and the soldiers of the Survey Corps looked at their captain with a newfound mix of respect and awe.
Lock felt the adrenaline slowly ebbing from his system, replaced by a calm, sharpened clarity. His body thrummed with the familiar sensation that came after intense combat—he could feel every heartbeat, every breath, as if the world had slowed down to match his rhythm.
He didn't pause for long. Adjusting his jacket, he strode directly toward Father Nick.
The priest's face drained of color. "Y-you… What do you intend to do?!" he stammered.
One man had just crushed more than sixty opponents in a matter of minutes. Even if those followers were just civilians—many undernourished refugees with little fighting skill—the sheer numbers should have made it difficult. But Lock had dismantled them methodically, efficiently. To Father Nick, the scene was almost inhuman.
The lock stopped directly in front of him. Their eyes met—one calm and piercing, the other trembling with panic.
"What do you think I want to do?" Lock replied lightly.
With one hand, he grabbed Father Nick's collar and yanked him forward, closing the distance between them. The priest's feet lifted slightly off the ground.
"I am a priest of the Church of the Walls!" Nick sputtered, trying to regain some dignity. "You have no right to punish me! Or do you intend to let the Survey Corps practice lynching now?"
The nearby soldiers, who had been admiring Lock's display moments before, shifted uneasily. Petra, Eld, Oluo, and Günther all exchanged quick looks and began to move forward, worried things might escalate.
Lock raised his free hand, stopping them. His voice was smooth, almost amused. "Relax. I never said I was going to hurt him. His robes just looked a little messy, so I thought I'd straighten them up."
With theatrical slowness, he released the priest's collar and smoothed out the wrinkles he'd just created, his smile never faltering. Confusion rippled through the onlookers. Father Nick stared at him, caught between fear and outrage.
Then Lock leaned closer, almost pressing his lips to the priest's ear. His voice dropped to a quiet, deliberate whisper—words only the two of them could hear.
Father Nick's eyes widened instantly. His body stiffened as though he'd been struck by lightning. "Y-you… you…" His voice cracked, trembling with disbelief.
Lock patted him on the shoulder casually, as if speaking to an old friend. "No need to be so shocked. Just do as I say."
Straightening up, he turned his back on the stunned priest and addressed the soldiers. "Resume construction. I want this breach sealed before sunrise tomorrow."
"Yes, Captain Lock!" the soldiers roared in unison.
Before this day, many of them respected Lock because of his rank and battlefield record. Now, after witnessing his overwhelming strength and unshakable composure, that respect transformed into genuine conviction. The Survey Corps was a place where personal strength held real weight. Lock had just demonstrated why he led them.
He gave a short nod, ignoring the groans of the fallen zealots and the priest's pale, stunned expression, and walked away with Eld, Oluo, Günther, Petra, and Ymir at his side.
The air was cooler on the road back to their temporary barracks. The sky had shifted toward dusk, long shadows stretching across the ground. None of them spoke at first, still processing the scene they'd just witnessed.
Finally, Oluo broke the silence. "Rookie—what did you say to that priest back there?"
The others turned to Lock, curiosity written plainly on their faces. Even Petra tilted her head slightly, waiting for his answer.
Lock's lips curved into a faint grin. "Nothing much. I just told him to bring more people next time. That crowd was too small to be any fun."
Oluo choked. "You're unbelievable…"
He trailed off mid-complaint, the memory of Lock dismantling dozens of attackers replaying vividly in his mind. He couldn't even argue. For Lock, sixty people really hadn't been much.
The others exchanged helpless smiles. They all knew he wasn't telling the full story, but none of them pushed. Lock was their captain, and if he had a plan, they would follow his lead.
When they arrived back at their quarters, Eld, Oluo, and Günther split off, heading to their rooms to rest. Petra and Ymir followed Lock into his quarters.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Petra's composure cracked. She turned to him with furrowed brows. "Lock, was it really all right to handle Father Nick like that? The Church has powerful backing."
Lock shrugged, his expression unchanged. "There shouldn't be a problem. And if there is… well." He didn't finish the sentence.
Petra waited for him to continue, but he didn't. She sighed, exasperated. Ymir rolled her eyes dramatically.
"Captain, I didn't expect you to be the sly type," Ymir said. "My life's in your hands right now, so do me a favor—don't do anything stupid that gets us all killed. I'd be pretty upset."
Petra nodded firmly. "She's right. You're not alone anymore, Lock. You have us, Eld, the others… people who trust you. You can't keep acting on impulse."
Her voice softened slightly at the end. Since inheriting a Titan power, Petra's relationship with Lock had subtly shifted. The weight of the memories she'd absorbed sometimes overwhelmed her—visions, feelings, fragments of someone else's life flashing through her mind at unpredictable moments. It unsettled her deeply. Lock had been the anchor keeping her steady through it all.
She wasn't sure how well she could cope without him.
Lock understood this without her needing to say it. He gave her a small nod. "I know. Don't worry. The Church isn't foolish enough to let things spiral out of control. If they try…" His eyes hardened, and a dangerous glint flashed briefly. "I'll make sure they regret it."
The sudden cold edge in his voice made Petra's stomach tighten. She opened her mouth to say something, but Ymir gently grabbed her arm, stopping her.
"Captain," Ymir said, her usual sarcasm tempered by seriousness. "If there's nothing else, Petra and I will leave you to rest."
Lock blinked and then shook his head. "Actually, there is something. I need your cooperation for something. It's not particularly dangerous, but I want to know if you're willing."
"What is it?" Petra and Ymir asked at the same time.
Lock leaned back against the table behind him, arms folded. The warm lantern light cast sharp shadows across his face, making him look both calm and calculating. Outside, the sounds of distant construction and the wind against the Wall filled the silence.
The night stretched on, heavy with anticipation. The Survey Corps had made enemies before—Titans, nobles, military police—but the Church of the Walls was different. It wasn't just soldiers or politics. It was faith, secrets buried within the Walls, and forces that didn't want the truth uncovered.
Lock had just thrown a stone into still water. And the ripples were spreading.
But he wasn't afraid. Whatever came next, he intended to face it head-on.
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