Kenny Ackerman's pistol pressed against Lock's chest.
The silence in the command hall was absolute.
The soldiers of the Survey Corps, dozens of them, had their fingers on their triggers, but no one dared to move.
Lock, standing in the center of it all, didn't even flinch. His calm was unnerving.
Even the faintest tremor of fear would have emboldened Kenny—but there was none.
Instead, Lock smiled faintly. "Didn't I already tell you the reason, Kenny?"
That light, almost teasing tone rippled through the tense air.
The veterans watching—Oluo, Miche, Gunther—exchanged uneasy glances. Even in the face of an Ackerman madman, their Commander's voice stayed as steady as ever.
"Reason?" Kenny frowned, confused and irritated. "You mean this nonsense about why I can't use the Titan serum?"
Lock's eyes dropped to the syringe still clutched in Kenny's other hand.
The fluid shimmered faintly under the lamplight.
"You're Ackerman blood," Lock said quietly. "Pureblood. That's the reason."
Kenny scowled. "And what the hell's wrong with that?"
"To become a Titan, you need Eldian blood," Lock explained. His tone was calm—almost too calm. "You don't have it."
Kenny's face went blank.
For a moment, his hand trembled. The idea struck him like a blade through the ribs.
He looked down at the syringe—the dream he'd carried for years—then back at Lock, his expression hollowing out.
"Only Eldians can…" he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.
Fragments of memory flickered in his mind—Uli Reiss, smiling sadly; Rod Reiss, shaking his head, telling him "No" without explanation.
He had thought it was a lie. That they were protecting their power.
But now, everything fits. The rejection, the avoidance, the silence.
So I was chasing something I could never have…
Kenny laughed once, bitterly. "Damn."
Lock didn't comment. He turned away and gestured toward the prisoners nearby.
"Take Zeke and Pieck to the cell block. Separate them. Same precautions as Reiner."
The human soldiers who had helped bring them in hesitated. "Commander… Captain Kenny—"
Kenny's low, rasping voice interrupted them. "You heard him. Go."
That was all it took. The men obeyed instantly, saluting before retreating toward the infirmary.
Lock's troops moved in to take the captives, hauling the unconscious Beast Titan and Cart Titan toward containment.
Once the corridor emptied, Lock turned back toward Kenny. "Come. We should talk."
"Talk, huh?" Kenny's tone was unreadable. "Sure, why not?"
Behind the Command Center
The air was heavy with dust and oil. Faint light bled through the cracks in the old brick walls. It was quiet—too quiet.
They'd barely stepped inside before Kenny moved.
No warning. No words.
He lunged, faster than most could blink, his arm sweeping toward Lock's neck in a brutal arc.
But Lock had expected it.
He pivoted sharply, forearm blocking the strike, then surged forward, driving his shoulder into Kenny's chest.
Thud—!
The impact rattled the wall behind them. Lock didn't move; Kenny stumbled back several paces, boots scraping across stone.
For a heartbeat, both men stared at each other.
Kenny smirked through clenched teeth. "You've got some muscle, kid."
Lock's answer was a blur of motion.
He was faster. Sharper. Every strike is measured with surgical precision. Kenny parried, his instincts honed by decades of street fights and bloodshed, but the younger man pressed relentlessly—left jab, elbow hook, a knee toward the ribs that forced Kenny to twist away.
It wasn't the wild brawl of two killers.
It was a duel between predators.
When their fists met, the impact cracked the air like a whip.
Even Kenny—whose strength once made soldiers tremble—felt the weight of the years pressing against his body.
Lock's movements were too quick, too disciplined.
After ten exchanges, Kenny faltered.
Lock seized the moment—his foot lashed out, sweeping Kenny's leg, then followed with a clean kick to the chest.
Kenny hit the ground hard, rolling once before lying still. His hat, long since lost, might as well have been buried with his pride.
Lock didn't advance. He simply exhaled, hands loose at his sides. "I win."
For a long time, Kenny didn't speak.
Then, from the floor, came a low chuckle. "I'll be damned."
When he looked up, there wasn't anger in his eyes—just something close to nostalgia.
"Uli beat me once," Kenny muttered, voice gravelly. "But he used Titan power. You… you did it with your own hands."
Lock raised a brow. "Is that respect I'm hearing?"
"Call it what you want," Kenny said, grinning through the blood on his lip. "Didn't think I'd ever meet a human who could do that."
He sat up, leaning against the wall. For a fleeting second, the firelight caught in his eyes—tired, bitter, but alive.
Lock could see it clearly: that familiar hunger. The restless spirit of a man who lived on violence because it was the only thing that ever made sense.
"Talent, Kenny," Lock said softly. "You can't teach it."
Kenny snorted. "Don't start preaching. If we're talking talent, the Ackermans still have the strongest blood in the world."
"Maybe," Lock admitted. "But not the right blood for Titans."
That struck a nerve—but Kenny only laughed again, leaning his head back against the stone. "Guess that makes me human after all."
The silence that followed was uneasy but calm.
The hostility between them had settled into something stranger—an understanding.
Kenny finally spoke. "If I remember right, our little deal was that you'd help me get Titan power. But since that's off the table, it seems we don't have much reason to keep working together."
Lock studied him for a moment. "Is Levi reason enough?"
Kenny's eyes flicked up. "Levi?"
"You've seen him," Lock said. "He's your blood. He's already surpassed what anyone thought humanly possible. There's another Ackerman under my command, too—Mikasa. Half-blood. Maybe… she can do what you couldn't."
Kenny smirked. "So, you want me to train her."
Lock's lips curved slightly. "Why not? You'd be good at it."
"Flattery won't get you far, boy," Kenny said, but his tone wasn't mocking. It was curious.
He rubbed his bruised jaw thoughtfully. "You've got guts asking me that."
"I've got plans," Lock replied. "And every plan needs someone like you."
Kenny looked away, exhaling smoke that wasn't there.
"Plans, huh? You really are like the old man—full of ideas that'll get you killed."
"Maybe," Lock said, meeting his gaze. "But mine might just work."
Kenny grinned. "You're confident. I'll give you that."
He went quiet for a long moment before speaking again, his voice lower now, almost reflective.
"I've been trapped behind these walls too long. The world's changing out there, and I'm stuck breathing the same damn air every day. I want to see it—beyond the island."
Lock's eyes narrowed slightly. "Not possible now."
"I can wait," Kenny said simply. "In the meantime, I'll clear your obstacles—if you ask. I don't move without your say-so."
He paused, glancing toward the window, where faint light spilled through cracks in the wall.
"My men took heavy losses catching those Titan bastards. I'll need replacements."
Lock's expression softened. "Three hundred soldiers. Fully equipped. That enough?"
Kenny whistled low. "More than I expected."
They stared at each other for a moment longer, then Kenny pushed himself to his feet with a groan.
He adjusted his coat, his posture regaining that same lazy confidence he'd always worn like armor.
"Well, Commander Lock," he said with a grin. "Looks like we've got an understanding."
Lock nodded once. "For now."
Kenny turned toward the door, his boots echoing on the stone.
Just before leaving, he looked back over his shoulder. His grin had faded—replaced by something quieter.
"You're a strange one, kid," he said. "Most people with your ideals die early. Don't disappoint me."
Then he was gone.
Lock stood there for a while, watching the empty doorway.
Kenny Ackerman—unpredictable, dangerous, impossible to control—was an enigma. A relic of violence who somehow still had a role to play.
If not for the situation inside the walls, Lock thought, I'd have killed him already.
But for now, Kenny's existence served a purpose—stability.
The people feared him. The military respected him.
And as long as Levi and Mikasa lived, the Ackerman line couldn't be erased from Paradis.
Lock sighed, his hand brushing the faint bruise at his neck.
He'd survived another day—but the war was far from over.
Outside, the wind carried the smell of smoke from the battlefield.
Inside, the walls creaked softly, whispering a truth no one wanted to hear.
Peace was coming—
But only through monsters.
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