Wide, clean streets. Tall, magnificent buildings. Well-dressed citizens moving about in orderly lines.
Compared to the other districts, the interior of Wall Sina—the heart of the Interior—was far more prosperous. It resembled a modern metropolis from another world, a place that could easily make people lose themselves in comfort.
It's easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to go back once you've tasted it.
Here, surrounded by opulence, people's hearts inevitably softened.
After several days of travel, the Survey Corps and the Central Military Police Brigade, led by Kenny, finally arrived at the part of the Walls that people both longed for and despised.
As expected, the moment they passed through the city gates, they were stopped for a "routine inspection" by Military Police soldiers.
"These guys always do this. Do they have nothing better to do?" Oruo muttered irritably.
Lock remained calm as his gaze fell on Neil Dalker, who was speaking with Kenny nearby, his face sour. Lock thought to himself: He trained in the same class as Commander Erwin… his skills must've been decent once. What a waste.
After years in the Interior, Neil—who might once have rivaled Erwin's talent—had become just another cog in the rotten machine.
Soon, the inspectors reached Lock's carriage.
"Well, well. We meet again," one of the Military Police sneered.
This was no coincidence; they'd approached deliberately. It was a group of recruits.
Lock simply scanned his surroundings, ignoring their attempt to provoke him.
His calm scrutiny only made the recruits look down on him further. Their eyes said it all: country bumpkin.
Oruo and the others, already irritated by the Military Police's arrogance, immediately urged their horses forward.
"Don't push your luck," Oruo warned sharply.
The recruit stepped forward, ready to retort—but before he could, a blade gleamed in the sunlight right before his eyes. Lock's voice followed, low and murderous.
"Inspection's done. Leave. Now."
"You—!"
The recruits, used to Interior luxury and untouchable status, had never been treated like this—except by nobles. They bristled, ready to lash out.
But Lock moved. The blade flicked through the air. A few strands of hair from the front of the man's head drifted down slowly.
"Next time," Lock said coldly, "it won't be hair. It'll be your ears. Don't test me."
The recruits froze, their blood running cold. One glance at Lock's icy stare was enough—they were looking at someone who had killed before. Not once. Many times.
The polished Interior had never confronted such raw, lethal intent. Their bravado evaporated instantly.
Then, a sharp voice cut through the tension.
"Soldier. Explain yourself. What do you think you're doing?"
Neil had appeared, sword in hand, his face stern as his gaze locked on Lock.
"Nothing," Lock replied coolly. "Just helping you maintain discipline, Captain Neil."
He sheathed his blade deliberately, showing no sign of deference. Oruo and the rest of the Survey Corps couldn't hide their admiration—they knew that in his place, they likely would've backed down.
Neil's eyes lingered on Lock's captain's armband. "So, you're Lock. Squad captain at fourteen. Impressive. But that doesn't give you the right to discipline my soldiers. You attacked a comrade—what do you think the punishment for that is?"
He turned to the recruit whose hair Lock had trimmed. The man's new uneven hairstyle was ridiculous, but no complaint came. Lock's blank stare made it clear: if the man spoke, he might not leave alive.
This guy's insane, the recruit thought, terror spiking in his chest. Why did I provoke him…?
Taking a shaky breath, he said, "Captain, uh… Lock was just… joking with me."
"You…" Neil started, dumbfounded by his soldier's sudden backpedaling. But before he could continue, Lock's voice cut in again, smooth as steel.
"Permission to leave, Captain Neil?"
"Hmph."
Neil's pride smarted at being humiliated by someone younger, but at that moment, Erwin and Kenny, ahead of the convo, noticed the disturbance. Erwin looked ready to intervene. Kenny wore the look of someone enjoying a show.
Neil knew if he dragged this out, he'd only embarrass himself further. He waved his hand sharply and turned away.
The Military Police recruits followed him reluctantly, but none dared meet Lock's eyes again.
The Survey Corps members were barely holding in their laughter. Their gazes turned to Lock—not tall, but sharp as a drawn blade—filled with admiration.
This is how the Survey Corps should be.
"Captain, why didn't we arrest that guy back there?" one of Neil's subordinates muttered.
Neil shot him a look. "On what grounds?"
"He attacked Mani!"
"What proof do you have?" Neil countered.
His gaze shifted to Mani, the recruit walking with his head down. Disappointment flickered in Neil's eyes.
He knew his men were weak in combat—but to see them cower at just a look from Lock was pathetic.
Would Lock really have acted if Mani had pushed it? Neil thought grimly.
Meanwhile, among the Survey Corps, Oruo asked, "Captain… if that guy had called you out, would you really have attacked him here?"
Even Petra and Ymir, riding in the carriage, turned to hear the answer.
"Why wouldn't I?" Lock replied calmly.
"But if you'd done that, you'd be dragged before a military court," Oruo said, baffled.
Lock's lips curled in faint disdain. "No chance."
His eyes flicked toward Erwin at the head of the column. My performance wasn't bad, right, Commander?
During this critical period, Lock was a key figure in the Survey Corps. As long as he didn't cross a fundamental line, the royal government wouldn't dare touch him.
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