The door to the infirmary groaned as Lock pushed it open.
The moment he stepped inside, a wave of stinging, acrid scent washed over him—the smell of alcohol, blood, and burned flesh.
The moans and shuffling breaths of the wounded filled the air like a chorus of ghosts.
Rows of cots lined the long, dim hall. Bandaged soldiers twitched in restless pain; others lay still beneath white sheets that would never be moved again.
The Survey Corps had won, but it was a victory drowned in loss.
Two-thirds of the unit stationed in Shiganshina had been killed or crippled.
The remaining third were all wounded—some missing limbs, some eyes, most too shaken to speak.
Lock's boots echoed faintly on the stone floor as he walked between the beds. He didn't speak. He didn't need to.
Every face here was proof of what he already knew.
Even with Thunder Spears, heavy artillery, and the latest gear… we're still insects before the Beast.
The memory of Zeke's stone volleys flickered in his mind—hundreds of projectiles slicing through the air, each impact an explosion of blood and dust. It hadn't been a battle; it had been a massacre.
If Levi hadn't struck when he did, if he hadn't crippled the Beast Titan's throwing arm, the Survey Corps might not have existed at all.
Lock exhaled slowly. "We're not ready," he muttered to himself. "Not yet."
He pushed open the inner door, where Levi Ackerman lay unconscious on a cot.
Petra Rall and Ymir followed quietly behind him.
Levi's breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling under the thin blanket. His body was covered in bandages from shoulder to thigh, but both arms and legs were intact.
Relief softened Lock's usually cold eyes.
"Captain," the physician on duty greeted, standing at attention.
"Relax," Lock said quietly. "How is he?"
"His condition is stable," the doctor replied, voice reverent, as if speaking to a myth. "He'll need rest—three months at most. But with his resilience… one and a half should do. No lasting damage expected."
Lock nodded. "Good work. Watch him closely."
"It's my duty, Commander," the doctor said, bowing.
Lock's gaze lingered on Levi for a moment longer. In this world of chaos and monsters, Levi was one of the few constants.
Without him, Paradis would lose more than a soldier—it would lose its sharpest blade.
Then Lock turned to leave.
Outside the tent, the night air felt heavy. The fires from the battlefield still smoldered beyond the walls, painting the horizon in faint red.
"Reiner's next," he said, voice low.
Petra glanced at him, brow furrowing. "You're going to question him already?"
Lock nodded. "Before the world learns what he is."
The truth was unavoidable now. Too many had seen the impossible—human form emerging from a Titan's carcass.
Rumors were already spreading, whispering one terrible truth: Titans were once human.
If that secret was confirmed too soon, panic would swallow the island whole.
Lock rubbed at his temples. "Not yet," he murmured. "We'll hold the truth until the walls are ours again. Once Erwin completes his restructuring, once the Corps stands united… then we tell them."
Petra and Ymir exchanged uneasy glances.
Even they could imagine the chaos that would erupt the day that truth reached the masses.
But Lock's tone left no room for argument.
The command post was buried in reports when they arrived.
Stacks of bloodstained papers and half-dried ink covered the desks.
Miche Zacharius—Sanmao to his comrades—sat at the center of it all, hair wild, sleeves rolled up, scowling at a ledger like it had personally insulted him.
When he looked up and saw Lock, relief washed over his face.
"Commander! Finally, you can deal with this mountain of bureaucratic torture. I'm heading out to check morale!" Miche blurted, already halfway to the door.
Lock's brow twitched. "Miche—"
But the older man was gone, leaving only a faint echo of retreating boots.
A snort escaped Petra before she could stop it. "It's the first time I've seen Captain Miche look like that. Guess the 'cool veteran' image is dead."
Lock smiled faintly. "I don't blame him. Paperwork terrifies me, too."
He gestured at the mountain of documents. "They're yours."
"Wait—what?" Petra blinked. "Lock!"
But he was already halfway to the exit. "I'll be in the cell block. The Armored Titan should be awake by now."
"Unbelievable!" Petra stomped her foot, cheeks puffed in exasperation. "He really is a hands-off Commander!"
Ymir crossed her arms, half amused, half resigned. "He trusts you. Besides, we've always done this anyway."
Petra sighed. "You make it sound like a compliment…"
The Prison Below
The corridor leading to the holding cells was damp and dimly lit, torches flickering along the stone walls. Guards stood to attention as Lock approached.
"Commander," the senior guard saluted. "The prisoner's inside. Still breathing."
"Leave us," Lock ordered. "All of you."
They obeyed instantly, filing out without hesitation. The heavy door clanged shut behind them.
For a few seconds, there was silence—only the faint hum of steam and the slow rhythm of breathing from within the cell.
Lock stepped closer.
Behind the reinforced bars sat Reiner Braun. His hands were shackled with iron cuffs heated to keep him from transforming. His golden hair was matted with sweat, and his body—though healing—was crisscrossed with burns and bruises.
His eyes were closed.
"Don't bother pretending," Lock said quietly. "I know you're awake."
There was a pause. Then, slowly, Reiner opened his eyes.
"…You know my name."
Lock's gaze didn't waver. "You were careless enough to use it on the field."
Reiner exhaled, a hollow sound that might have been a laugh. "No. You learned it from Ymir, didn't you? She inherited the Jaw Titan—Marcel's power. She remembers us."
Lock said nothing. His silence was confirmation enough.
Reiner leaned back against the wall, expression shadowed. "Then you know what we are."
"I do," Lock said. "And now you're going to tell me what Marley plans next."
Reiner's jaw tightened. "Even if I told you, it wouldn't matter. They'll come again. Stronger. Smarter. You can't stop them."
Lock stepped closer, the torchlight cutting sharp lines across his face. "They sent three of you this time. Two fled, one failed. How many more can Marley afford to lose?"
Reiner's eyes flickered. "You underestimate them. The world beyond the walls is vast. You think you're fighting a few soldiers, but there are nations—armies—machines you can't imagine. Even if you kill me, Paradis will fall."
Lock's voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of iron. "Maybe. But we'll make sure we take your world down with us."
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Steam drifted faintly from Reiner's wrists as his regeneration worked against the restraints. Finally, he said in a low voice, "You sound like him."
"Who?"
"Eren Yeager," Reiner muttered. "Before he knew the truth… he talked the same way. Like he could save everyone."
Lock's expression didn't change. "Eren's alive. And if I have anything to say about it, he'll stay that way."
Reiner looked up sharply. "You—what?"
But Lock had already turned toward the door. "Rest, soldier. You'll need your strength for what's coming."
He knocked twice on the iron frame. The guards reentered immediately.
"Keep him under twenty-four-hour watch," Lock ordered. "No food that isn't inspected, no visitors without my clearance. If he tries to speak Marleyan… gag him."
"Yes, Commander!"
As the door slammed shut behind him, Lock exhaled slowly. His reflection flickered faintly in the iron bars—young, but tired beyond his years.
For the first time in hours, his thoughts drifted to the horizon beyond Wall Maria.
To the sea.
To Marley.
And to the war that was already moving toward them again.
The Beast will return.
And when he does… we'll be ready.
Meanwhile, far beyond the burning ruins of the district, a shadow moved through the forest under the cover of night.
Kenny Ackerman crouched on a high branch, peering through the smoke with his rifle slung across his back.
Below, the deep footprints of Titans led south, toward the coast.
He grinned, biting down on a cigar.
"Uli… you'd laugh if you saw me now," he murmured. "Chasing devils in the dark. Guess it's in the blood."
The wind shifted, carrying a faint, guttural roar from the distance.
Kenny's smile faded.
He reached into his coat, fingers brushing against a small metal injector—the one Lock had given him.
His reflection gleamed in the glass.
"Almost time," he whispered. "Let's see what makes you monsters so damn special."
And with that, he followed the trail into the black woods—toward his fate.
---
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