The massive city gate creaked as it rose, the chains straining against the weight of the ancient wood and iron. Sunlight spilled through the widening gap, cutting a bright path across the packed earth outside. Without hesitation, Lock spurred his horse forward and was the first to charge through. Behind him followed ten hand-picked soldiers and a sturdy wagon.
Their sudden departure caught the surrounding volunteers and garrison soldiers off guard. Dozens turned their heads to follow the small unit as it thundered through the gate, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.
"Isn't that Captain Lock?!" someone whispered in disbelief.
"Why is he leaving the city with such a small team?"
"He's the commander of this entire operation. Shouldn't he be here to direct the mobilization?"
"Shh! Don't talk too loud. The Corps soldiers around here are fiercely loyal to him. You don't want to get on their bad side."
A few volunteers exchanged uneasy glances. One lowered his voice further.
"I heard some men questioned his age a few weeks ago… they said someone that young couldn't possibly lead this kind of campaign. He didn't need to lift a finger—his own soldiers beat the guy so badly he couldn't get out of bed for days."
"So this little excursion of his…" another muttered. "He might not be coming back."
The rumors rippled through the crowd, but none of them noticed the figures standing quietly among them. Their uniforms were similar to the Survey Corps standard but with subtle differences—reinforced harnesses, newer blades, and additional gear pouches. These were Lock's personal hundred-man unit, strategically placed to monitor and stabilize the masses.
Tens of thousands were about to march beyond the walls. One reckless spark could ignite panic or rebellion. Lock had no intention of allowing mutiny before the operation began.
Outside the walls, the wilderness opened up—a vast stretch of plains dotted with the remnants of abandoned villages. Wind swept across the fields, carrying the faint scent of grass and distant decay.
Lock's objective today was simple: capture a pure Titan under five meters and bring it back alive. It wasn't supposed to be dangerous, so he had deliberately kept the team small. He'd ordered Elder to select ten promising recruits from his elite unit—soldiers who had shown talent but lacked real combat experience. Petra and the others had been left behind to maintain control inside the walls.
This wasn't Lock's first venture beyond the walls. Far from it. He had faced Titans dozens of times and captured them before. His expression was calm and focused as his sharp eyes swept the landscape, searching for signs: disturbed earth, broken fences, footprints too large to belong to humans.
In contrast, the ten recruits trailing behind him were stiff as boards. It was their first time leaving the safety of the wall.
They had endured brutal months of training—grueling obstacle courses, endless hours with maneuvering gear, and live-blade exercises under relentless instructors. They had learned how to read a Titan's movements, exploit its blind spots, and kill efficiently. But theory and practice were different beasts. Now, with nothing but open land between them and the Titans, the fear was real. Their breaths were shallow; hands gripped reins too tightly; eyes darted toward the distant tree line.
Lock noticed their unease but said nothing. This mission wasn't just about capturing a Titan. It was about burning away hesitation.
Moments later, he spotted movement. Wandering across a field was a four-meter-class Titan, its grotesque body swaying as it lumbered forward with mindless persistence. No other Titans were in sight.
"Good," Lock murmured to himself. "Fortune favors us today."
Behind him, however, the recruits tensed even more. Seeing a Titan in training manuals was one thing. Seeing its massive, fleshy body moving in the real world was another.
The Titan soon noticed them, too. Its slack jaw opened in a grotesque grin, and it began to stumble toward them. The distance closed rapidly—three hundred meters… two hundred…
Lock raised his hand. "Stay here," he ordered flatly.
Before any of them could respond, he pressed his heels into his horse's flanks. The animal leapt forward, galloping straight toward the Titan. Dust flew behind him as the recruits stared in shock.
"What do we do?!" one hissed.
"Should we follow?!" another asked, panic in his voice.
They glanced at each other, fear mirrored in every pair of eyes. For months, they had followed Lock's commands with military precision. He was younger than some of them, but his strength and leadership left no room for doubt. He had dragged them out of the hellish underground, forged them into soldiers, and given them purpose.
Many of them owed him their lives. And more than that, t—he had earned their respect through overwhelming strength. He wasn't a commander because of birth or politics. He was a commander because no one could stand against him.
One by one, hesitation gave way to resolve. They straightened in their saddles, hands tightening around their maneuvering triggers. Whatever Lock was doing, they would not shame themselves by cowering in the rear.
But then they saw it.
Lock reached the Titan alone. He dismounted in one fluid motion, blades flashing as his gear fired with a sharp hiss. The steel cables buried themselves in the ground around the Titan. He vaulted upward, twisting through the air like a streak of silver.
In seconds, he disabled it.
A sharp slice severed its jaw, robbing it of its bite. Two quick arcs took its limbs. Blood sprayed in fine crimson mist as the creature crashed onto its side, writhing helplessly like a slaughtered animal.
The recruits stared, wide-eyed.
"I… Is that it?" one whispered.
The battle had lasted less than thirty seconds.
The Titan that had terrified them moments ago looked pathetic now—flailing on the ground, its limbs stumps, its jaw useless.
They exchanged glances, their previous fear giving way to something else entirely: a stunned realization.
Titans weren't invincible gods. Not in the hands of someone like Lock.
"Should we… still go help?" the youngest recruit asked weakly.
"…," came the collective non-answer.
Lock wiped his blade clean with practiced efficiency and sheathed it. He stood beside the crippled Titan, scanning the surroundings.
"This spot is at least five kilometers from the wall," he muttered. "And only one Titan? That's… strange."
His instincts prickled. It wasn't normal for this area to be so empty. But he couldn't pinpoint why. After a moment's thought, he pushed the unease aside. If trouble came, they would deal with it. That was the Survey Corps way.
He turned to his recruits, who were now staring at him with a mixture of awe and renewed confidence. "Move," he ordered. "Tie it down and load it into the wagon."
"Yes, Captain!"
They dismounted, snapping out of their shock. Working quickly, they secured the Titan using reinforced chains and pulleys. It thrashed weakly, but with its limbs and jaw gone, it posed no real threat. Once it was loaded onto the wagon, Lock mounted up again and led the team back toward Stoheis.
As they rode, the recruits' faces were different from when they'd left. Their nerves hadn't vanished completely, but something fundamental had shifted. Seeing Lock dominate a Titan so easily had rewritten their understanding of what was possible.
Fear had been replaced by a spark of determination.
This was exactly what Lock wanted. By the time they returned, this restrained Titan would become the centerpiece of a brutal training session for the tens of thousands preparing to march. He would make them stare fear in the face before they ever set foot beyond the walls.
For humanity to survive, their courage couldn't be theoretical. It had to be forged against flesh and blood.
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A/N: New Fanfic Is Out " Naruto: I'm Boruto Uzumaki"
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