Clang — Clang!
The grappling anchors of Lock's new ODM Gear slammed deep into the Armored Titan's chestplate, sparks flaring as the turbines screamed to life. In the same breath, Lock vaulted from his horse and cut through the air like a bullet loosed from a cannon.
The latest Survey Corps gear—his personal prototype—hissed and thundered with impossible speed.
Three times the gas capacity, faster propellant turbines, tighter anchor rotation—every part of it was engineered for precision and velocity.
Only a handful of soldiers could even control it without breaking bones. Lock intended to make it standard one day, but for now, it was his alone.
The air tore past his ears, the ruined streets a blur below. For the briefest instant, as gravity vanished beneath him, he almost felt free.
Reiner Braun—encased in his shredded Titan armor—looked up and froze.
"That speed…!"
He barely had time to lift his arm. Lock twisted mid-flight, blades crossing in a flash of silver. The Titan's clawed hand was severed cleanly at the wrist, fragments of hardened skin scattering like shattered glass.
Reiner bellowed. Steam gushed from the wound.
Lock swung upward again, blades arcing toward the glowing seams of the Titan's face.
Two flashes of steel. Two precise strikes.
Both blades sank straight into the Titan's eyes.
"End of the line," Lock whispered.
Reiner staggered backward, blind and roaring. He could no longer see, only feel the tremor of wires slicing through the air, the staccato hiss of compressed gas.
Driven by instinct, he flailed with his remaining arm, claws splitting the earth where Lock had been a heartbeat earlier.
"A trapped beast still fights," Lock muttered.
Behind him, soldiers on the wall cheered wildly.
"Commander Lock!"
"The Commander did it!"
"He's unstoppable!"
Lock ignored the noise. His eyes stayed cold, calculating. Every movement, every feint, was the culmination of countless drills—surveying the Titan's weakness, reading its body like a map.
He darted forward again, slashing across Reiner's ankles, severing tendons that glowed like molten iron. The Titan buckled, collapsing to one knee.
Lock landed lightly on the fractured street. The smoke parted around him.
Reiner swung again, desperate. Lock caught the giant's wrist with one hand on his cable and pivoted, twisting the limb until joints cracked. He drove his boot into the Titan's chest, sending the armored beast sprawling back.
"So strong…" was Reiner's last thought before darkness closed in.
The Armored Titan's body went limp, steam rising in ghostly tendrils. Lock released the line, letting his blades hang loose at his sides.
When he stepped from the smoke, he was dragging Reiner's unconscious human form behind him by the collar of his torn uniform. The battlefield fell silent for a heartbeat—and then erupted.
"The Commander is victorious!"
"Commander Lock!"
"Long live the Survey Corps!"
Hundreds of soldiers surrounded him, blades raised in salute. Their cheers rolled like thunder across the broken streets.
They worshipped strength—and Lock had just proven, once again, that he was the strongest among them.
High above on the wall, Miche Zacharius, Oluo Borzado, and Eld Jinn watched the spectacle in stunned admiration.
Miche exhaled, half-smiling. "I used to think I could still catch up to him. I guess that was a joke."
Oluo snorted, shaking his head. "His movement speed—did you see that angle shift? That wasn't human."
"New ODM Gear," Eld added. "I heard it's still in testing. Only the Commander can use it."
"He makes it look effortless," Miche said, quietly in awe. "The Titan didn't even stand a chance."
They exchanged glances, each realizing the same truth: Lock Ackerman—the Commander—wasn't just their superior anymore. He was their symbol.
By the time they descended from the wall, Lock was already debriefing the wounded. He moved among them quickly but without ceremony, checking bandages, replacing broken blades, speaking to each squad in turn. The blood on his coat hadn't even dried.
"How bad are your injuries?" he asked Miche, who had blood seeping through his sleeve.
"Surface wounds," Miche said. "Nothing serious. The Beast Titan's rock volleys tore through most of our line. If not for the new armor plating and Levi's counter-attack, we would've lost Maria Wall again."
Lock's eyes flicked over the cratered landscape. "Levi?"
"Injured," Miche replied. "He took the full brunt of one strike, but he's alive. He's in the southern field medic tent."
Lock nodded once. "Good."
Around them, the surviving soldiers straightened unconsciously under his gaze. It wasn't fear—it was the presence of someone who had never lost.
An ever-victorious commander.
They believed in him completely now.
And Lock, for all his exhaustion, felt the weight of that belief settle heavier than the blood on his hands.
By dusk, the field outside Wall Maria was finally clear.
Dozens of corpses of Pure Titans lay steaming in the evening light.
The combined power of Thunder Spears, anti-Titan artillery, and the newly trained units had turned the tide.
Ironically, the Cart Titan's retreat had drawn half the Titans away, reducing their numbers and saving hundreds of lives.
Lock stood on the wall's edge, wind tugging at his cloak. Below him stretched the ruins of Shiganshina District—his first battlefield, and now once again a graveyard.
He glanced to his right, where Miche joined him, battered but upright.
"Report," Lock said.
"All enemy Titans neutralized," Miche answered. "Survivors accounted for. Reiner Braun is secured and unconscious. We're setting up containment measures as you ordered."
Lock's eyes narrowed. "And Kenny Ackerman?"
Miche's expression darkened. "Gone. His anti-personnel unit was seen patrolling the perimeter before the fight began, but once the Beast Titan attacked, they vanished. No bodies found."
Lock didn't respond immediately. The wind carried the faint smell of smoke and gunpowder as he looked south—toward the direction Zeke and the Cart Titan had fled.
"Kenny doesn't vanish without reason," he murmured. "Either he's gone rogue—or he's following something."
Miche hesitated. "Do you think he's pursuing them?"
Lock's jaw tightened. "No. Kenny doesn't chase. He waits for an advantage."
He turned his gaze back to the field. The sun was sinking now, painting the smoke red. The bodies of comrades and Titans alike glowed in the light, indistinguishable in their stillness.
"This victory cost us," Lock said quietly. "But we've proven something tonight."
Miche looked at him questioningly. "Proven what?"
Lock's expression hardened. "That we can fight the world—and win."
Down in the makeshift infirmary, the smell of antiseptic and blood mixed thickly. Rows of wounded lay under canvas tents, the steady moan of pain the only sound.
Levi Ackerman sat propped against a cot, arm in a sling, half his uniform shredded. His eyes were open but tired—still burning with the same sharp focus.
When Lock entered, the medics instinctively stepped aside.
Levi looked up. "Took your time."
Lock allowed a faint smile. "You always were impatient."
"Zeke got away."
"I know."
Levi's gaze hardened. "Then what are you standing here for?"
Lock crouched beside him, studying his injuries. "Because you'd kill me if I didn't check first."
Levi snorted softly. "You're damn right."
For a moment, the two were silent—just the low hum of distant gunfire and the hiss of Titan steam fading in the distance.
"You did well," Lock said finally. "Without you, we'd have lost the wall."
Levi looked away, jaw tightening. "We still let the bastard live."
Lock's eyes followed the line of the tent to where Reiner was being secured in an iron-reinforced cage, the heat lamps already glowing to prevent regeneration.
"For now," Lock said. "He's our proof. Our warning to Marley."
Levi's lips twitched in the faintest smirk. "Always thinking ahead. You sound like Erwin."
"Erwin thinks ten steps ahead," Lock replied. "I just make sure we have the next one."
Levi closed his eyes again, leaning back. "Whatever you're planning next… don't die before you finish it."
Lock rose, turning toward the exit. "You too."
Night fell.
On the southern wall, the last of the fires burned out. The field was quiet, broken only by the crackle of burning Titan remains and the distant hum of machinery hauling debris.
Ymir joined him there, arms crossed, face unreadable. "You really think they'll come again soon?"
"They will," Lock said. "Zeke won't stop. Not until he's taken the Founding Titan or burned the island to ash."
Ymir's gaze lingered on the horizon. "Then we'd better be ready."
Lock didn't answer. His mind was already elsewhere—beyond the wall, beyond the dark sea that surrounded their world.
If Marley's strength was technology, then Paradis would need its own revolution. The steam engines Hanji had built, the weapons he'd refined, the people he'd armed—these were only the beginning.
He glanced down at his gloved hands, still stained with Titan blood.
Every victory demanded a cost.
And tonight, Paradis had paid in full.
He turned his head slightly, voice low. "Ymir. Send word to Hanji. Tell her to accelerate the engine project. We move into full industrialization immediately."
Ymir raised a brow. "You're not even going to rest?"
Lock looked toward the stars over Wall Maria—cold, distant, countless.
"There's no time left to rest."