"Wow, finally a chance to rest."
"The ride was so bumpy I almost threw up."
"You did throw up."
"…Disgusting."
"…"
Lock narrowed his eyes, watching the group of recruits climb down from their carriage. He gave them only a glance before turning away. It didn't seem like Ellis and Levington would be back anytime soon, and his gaze drifted to the training field beside the rest area.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"After sitting in a carriage all day, I feel like my body's turning to rust."
With a sigh, he stretched his arms and walked straight onto the field. After loosening his joints, he set into a run.
The rest stop had been built for the Garrison, and its facilities were solid. A single lap measured about four hundred meters. After two laps, Lock felt the faint burn in his muscles and was satisfied. His body was holding up well.
He didn't slow down. He kept running, each step easing the unease that lingered inside him.
It was the year 845.
That date alone weighed on him like a whisper of what was coming. Every breath, every heartbeat reminded him: disaster loomed closer each day. He had to push forward.
He couldn't rely only on the system. At his age, his body was still growing, and simple training could sharpen his strength—though not as quickly as the system, it still mattered. Quantitative effort built the foundation for qualitative change, so long as his potential wasn't drained.
But reality rarely offered time. Ellis and Levington eventually returned, and the three of them retired to the lounge to rest for the night. There, they crossed paths with the recruits who had just arrived.
Both sides exchanged glances. Lock, recognizing no familiar faces from the story he remembered, gave up on stepping forward. Ellis, ever sociable, went instead. After a round of introductions, he came back with news.
"They're recruits too," Ellis explained. "From a city east of the Wall, Maria. Headed to the Training Corps, same as us."
Then, lowering his voice, he added, "Since we're all from Wall Maria, I figure it'd be smart to stick together. That way, we'll have each other's backs once training starts."
"I've no objection," Lock said calmly.
Humans were social creatures. He wasn't against building connections.
"I… don't object either," Levington muttered, though his hesitation was plain.
Ellis smirked knowingly. His childhood friend's shyness was acting up again. He gave him a nudge with his elbow but said nothing more.
Lock didn't dwell on it. What mattered to him was how many of these recruits would choose the Survey Corps in the future. Those would be his true comrades. The rest—at best, passing connections.
Still, a deliberate effort at conversation soon broke the ice. They were all young, after all.
Ellis turned out to be the oldest at twenty. The other three stood at eighteen. And then there was Lock, the youngest at fourteen. Yet despite his age, the dynamic between him, Ellis, and Levington left no doubt who held the lead.
It puzzled the others, but none voiced the question. That restraint alone told Lock they weren't fools.
With their addition, the room grew more lively. Lock listened to their stories of other districts within Wall Maria. It broadened his understanding of life beyond Shiganshina—though soon enough, he lost interest. Customs and festivals mattered little when survival was the real question.
The night passed quickly.
By traveling together, their group grew more cheerful, laughter breaking out along the road.
When the newcomers learned Lock had placed first in Shiganshina, the admiration in their eyes was clear. A few even asked him for guidance during breaks.
One afternoon, a tall, broad-shouldered youth stepped forward, scratching the back of his head.
"I heard from Ellis that you're strong. I want to see it for myself. How about a one-on-one match?"
Lock studied him through narrowed eyes.
"You want to fight me?"
"Yeah," the young man admitted with a sheepish grin. "I just want to test myself. Nothing serious."
Lock caught no malice from him. The boy looked fierce but was honest enough, driven by a simple competitive spirit. Another first-ranked recruit, no doubt.
"Alright," Lock agreed.
The boy's eyes lit up. "Then let's get started!"
They drew a crowd immediately. Ellis, Levington, and even the soldiers escorting them stopped to watch. Lock understood their intent. They wanted to see him tested, to confirm whether his reputation meant anything.
After all, endurance and coordination didn't always translate to combat skill.
The boy charged without hesitation, arms wide in a clumsy attempt to grapple. Lock slipped past easily, pivoting at the last moment. His right fist shot forward, striking the boy's abdomen with a sharp crack of air.
"Ugh—!"
The youth's breath left him in a strangled groan. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, face twisted in pain, trembling as he sank to his knees.
Lock… won.
The silence broke with a chorus of disappointment.
"That's it?!"
"We waited this long for that?!"
The crowd muttered, unsatisfied, as the boy writhed on the ground.