In the training corps base, inside the chief instructor's office, Lock and Erwin sat alone across from each other. The silence was heavy.
Lock showed neither fear nor restraint. He didn't feel guilty—after all, the others had attacked first. All he had done was defend himself. If anything, he had simply defended too well.
If Erwin had arrived ten minutes later, I could have cleared the mission reward, he thought bitterly.
Erwin studied him quietly. The boy's gaze was calm, almost distracted, and it only reinforced Erwin's impression—this one was going to be trouble.
Finally, he spoke in his steady tone:
"Lock, do you understand what you did today?"
Lock answered without hesitation. "It wasn't my fault. They blocked my way, and I pushed back. Simple as that."
"You seem very sure of yourself." Erwin's face betrayed nothing.
Lock smiled faintly. "I had the support of my peers."
He was confident Erwin wouldn't discard someone useful over a brawl. Levi's history in the underground had proved that much—raw talent was too rare to waste.
Erwin's eyes narrowed slightly. Then, to Lock's surprise, he smiled.
"You look at me as if you already know I won't punish you. What makes you think you're worth tolerating?"
"Because my strength alone can match every new recruit this year," Lock replied evenly.
He didn't hide his ambition. In front of a commander like Erwin, it was better to show his edge than to mask it.
For half a minute Erwin said nothing, only watching him. The silence stretched until he finally asked:
"What is it you want?"
"I want to graduate early."
Normally, cadets endured three years of training before graduating. The schedule was deliberate—systematic instruction, slow accumulation of skills, and time to harden both body and mind. Even then, many left the corps unprepared.
But Lock was different. He didn't have three years to waste. Not with the year 845 looming over them. Not with his secret advantage.
He was gambling now—gambling on Erwin's boldness, on how much the commander valued talent, on his own worth.
Seconds ticked by. Lock sat with a steady face, but inside his nerves coiled tight. Erwin's mind was unreadable, his patience terrifying.
At last, the older man's lips curved in the faintest smile.
"Lock, you are very smart."
The words didn't soothe him. If anything, they set off alarms. He felt exposed, as though Erwin had peeled back his thoughts.
"But I like smart people," Erwin continued. "So no—I won't punish you for today. As for your request to graduate early…"
He rose from his chair, eyes sharp as steel, voice cutting straight through the air.
"The corps has many exercises, each one vital. Skills that save lives when it matters most. If you want early graduation, then prove yourself. Master everything faster than the others. Meet my standard. Then—perhaps—you'll earn a place in the Survey Corps ahead of schedule."
Lock stood, posture firm. "Deputy Commander, I won't let you down."
His confidence was absolute, almost reckless.
Erwin's brows twitched at that. "Confidence is good. Conceit is not. My standards are very high."
"I know," Lock answered. "But I'm not like the others."
He had no doubt. With his system, with sweat and relentless effort, he could master everything in months. And in a year when humanity itself might not survive, three years was a luxury he didn't have.
Erwin studied him for another beat, then allowed himself a faint chuckle.
"…Then I look forward to your performance."
The conversation was over. He motioned Lock to leave.
Lock saluted crisply, then turned and walked out. His mind was set. Starting tomorrow, he would throw himself into training with everything he had. Within three months, he would be ready.
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