Following the sound of hooves, three Survey Corps riders emerged from the outer line, galloping hard. They pulled up at the steaming remains of the abnormal titan, eyes fixed on its half-severed neck. For a moment, no one spoke—then one of them swallowed hard.
"You… killed this thing by yourself?"
Lock stood beside the dissolving carcass, steam curling off him where titan blood had spattered. His expression was calm.
"Yeah."
Compared to the hesitation he'd felt leaving the Walls, there was only certainty now. Titans weren't invincible monsters. One on one, with good equipment, he was confident he could cut down any pure titan.
The three riders scanned the area—no other soldiers nearby. Despite their disbelief, the evidence forced them to accept it. Shock gave way to awe.
"Incredible. To take down an abnormal alone at your age… that's something."
They looked at him with respect. Lock couldn't have been older than twenty, yet he'd done what most soldiers couldn't dream of. But there was no time to linger. They urged their horses on, racing back to the convoy. Lock mounted again and rode after them.
As he chased the trail, his thoughts replayed the fight.
He'd wasted too much gas, too many anchors. Charging headlong at an unpredictable, abnormal one-on-one. If he'd failed to land a killing blow, the close combat could've cost him everything.
Simplify. End it in one strike. Equipment is limited—burn through it too quickly, and you die when the real fight begins.
The convoy was moving slowly. He caught up quickly. Relief washed over Elder and the others when they saw him, worry etched across their faces until he drew alongside.
"Lock, are you okay?" Petra called, concern plain in her voice.
"I'm fine. Not a scratch." He smiled, then glanced at Gunda. "What about you?"
"Just a twisted ankle," Gunda shrugged. "Nothing serious."
Elder, riding at the front, finally asked the question that had been on their minds. "That titan back there—wasabnormality"
Lock hesitated, four pairs of eyes fixed on him. "Yeah… a four-meter abnormal. But honestly, it was mostly luck. Without it, I might not have come back."
"Don't take that risk again," Elder said firmly. "We fight as a team. Always."
The same concern showed in Petra's eyes, even Gunda's, and Oluo—despite his usual sharp tongue—looked unsettled. Lock felt their worry. He nodded.
"Got it."
They didn't press further. Soon each fell back into formation, watching the dark fields around them. Lock caught himself smiling faintly. He murmured, too low for the others to hear, "A team… feels good."
But he forced the thought away. Out here, carelessness meant death.
The rest of the day passed without another fight. Their convoy, trailing in the rear and safest position, reached the rest point intact. After a short stop, they pushed on through the night. It was safer—most titans were sluggish or inert after dark—but still dangerous if a sleeper was disturbed.
During the halt, Petra once again showed her gentle touch, cooking a hot meal that eased the exhaustion of the day. Lock found himself watching her move among them, her war with holding the squad together.
Just as they began to eat, footsteps and voices approached. The mood shifted.
Erwin and Levi had arrived to inspect the rear convoy.
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