Until now, Lock had never truly felt the extent of his coordination ability.
He stood on the rope without any balancing aids, relying only on his sense of equilibrium. To his surprise, he remained steady—no swaying, no hesitation. In that instant, Lock realized he had already passed this stage.
"Excellent coordination," Erwin said, his voice carrying over the field.
Lock moved forward step by step, calm and composed.
Beside him, Levi gave a short nod. "With balance like that, he'll adapt to the 3D maneuver gear quickly. He's got stamina, he's young, and he can still grow. A useful talent. The only question is whether he'll choose to join the Survey Corps."
Erwin's expression dimmed slightly. "The reality is that most gifted recruits aim for the Military Police. The Garrison attracts the rest. Very few willingly choose us. Compared to safety within the Walls, risking your life outside them is too heavy a price."
Levi's lips curved in the faintest smirk as he watched Lock move steadily along the rope. "I have a feeling he'll join us."
"Perhaps," Erwin murmured. "But in the end, willpower matters more than raw talent."
He turned his eyes back to the rope—only to widen them suddenly. "What—!"
Lock was no longer simply walking. He had begun to run, light and sure-footed as if the rope were flat ground. His pace quickened, balanced and confident, until he reached the far end with effortless speed.
The field fell silent.
"Am I seeing things?"
"He ran that like it was a road…"
"Unbelievable."
Even Levi raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Big heart on that one."
Erwin's voice was steady again, though his eyes betrayed the weight of his thoughts. "We'll speak with him later. If he's willing, we should bring him directly into the Survey Corps after training. Whatever it costs, he's worth it."
Erwin understood better than anyone—the Survey Corps survived not on numbers, but on rare individuals. One Levi had changed their strength entirely. In Lock, he felt the same spark, the same certainty that this was someone who could tilt the scales of battle.
Meanwhile, Lock stepped down and joined the promotion area, his calm expression unchanged despite the stares and whispers directed his way. He gave a small wave toward Eren and the others, but otherwise ignored the crowd. Inside, he was quietly satisfied: his coordination was beyond question now, and handling the maneuver gear would be no problem. The next step was flexibility—something he'd refine once training began.
As the test continued, the gap between Lock and the others became obvious. While he had run the entire rope with ease, the strongest of the remaining candidates only made it halfway before slipping. Most fell within the first few steps. Compared to him, their clumsiness was stark.
The longer it went on, the less interest the spectators had. One by one, they drifted away until only a fraction remained watching. It was a dull sight: stumble, fall, repeat. Lock's performance stood out all the more in hindsight—abnormal, inhuman even.
When the tests ended, the results were clear. Only Lock had crossed the entire rope, claiming first place. Two young men in their twenties earned the other two spots by covering the farthest distance.
Lock was prepared to follow the soldiers toward the hall for the final identity review. Just as he was about to step forward, a cold voice rang out behind him.
"Wait."