The faint breeze rustled through the forest canopy, carrying the smell of earth and moss. Grisha stirred, eyes flickering open. His vision steadied, and the sight before him made his breath hitch—Lock stood under a tree, calm and silent, eyes fixed on him.
Startled, Grisha jolted upright. Sweat rolled down his back. He stumbled a few steps backward, his hand darting to the knife at his belt.
In one smooth motion, he drew it and pressed the blade against his palm. His gaze hardened.
"Are you really… Lock?"
Lock's expression softened, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.
"Uncle, you don't even recognize me?"
Grisha's brows furrowed so tightly they nearly met. "Then you… how…?"
Lock stepped forward a little, voice steady. "You're wondering how I know, aren't you? About your secret, about what you plan to do."
He paused for effect, then added casually, "I accidentally entered your basement. And found something… interesting."
Grisha's eyes widened. "You—what?! You went into the basement?!"
The shock in his tone wasn't just from discovery—it was fear. The basement was the heart of his hidden truth, the symbol of everything he carried from the outside world. For a long moment, the forest fell silent except for the sound of leaves rustling overhead. Then, slowly, Grisha exhaled and sheathed his knife.
Lock watched closely. His gamble had worked.
Grisha Yeager was a man ruled by conviction, not by greed. He wouldn't kill to protect himself—not if he believed his ideals could still live on.
He was the kind of man who would walk alone into the Reiss Chapel to beg the Founding Titan's holder for mercy, even knowing rejection awaited him.
Even knowing that the outcome was already written.
If Frieda Reiss had agreed to help him, the entire future might have been different.
But Lock knew that was impossible. The chain of fate had already been forged.
Back in the present, Grisha straightened, studying Lock with suspicion. "If you truly know who I am… why haven't you reported me to the royal government? You'd be rewarded beyond measure."
What he really wanted to ask—what burned inside him—was something else entirely:
Why hadn't I seen you in my memories of the future?
But he didn't ask.
Even if he did, Lock wouldn't answer. Perhaps even he didn't know why.
"Uncle," Lock said evenly, "just because I wear the uniform of the Survey Corps doesn't mean I serve the royal government."
Grisha's frown deepened. "But… I didn't see you."
Lock smiled faintly. "That doesn't matter. What matters is that our goals are the same."
Grisha's voice lowered, wary. "And what goal would that be?"
"Freedom," Lock said simply. His tone was firm, unyielding.
"First, freedom for the Eldians on Paradis Island. Then for those beyond the sea—our people who live as slaves under Marley's rule."
Grisha blinked, startled by the intensity in his words. He stared hard into Lock's eyes, searching for deceit, for weakness—anything. Instead, he found conviction.
A conviction so unwavering it frightened him.
"Do you truly believe that?" Grisha asked quietly.
Lock didn't flinch. "I do."
For the first time in years, Grisha felt the faintest glimmer of hope. The burden he'd carried since inheriting the Attack Titan—the weight of restoring Eldia, of rewriting the future—had crushed him into silence. No one had ever understood. No one had shared it.
Until now.
Lock's gaze was steady. He didn't look away. His words had no hesitation, no hesitation born of inexperience. He spoke like a man who had already walked through countless failures and carried the scars to prove it.
Yet Grisha's mind remained torn. Logic screamed caution, but his heart yearned to believe.
Trust him, one voice whispered. Share the truth.
Kill him, another urged. End the risk before it grows.
The two impulses clashed, leaving him paralyzed.
Lock broke the silence. "I don't expect you to trust me right away. But I'll ask you one thing—don't take the Founding Titan's power. Not yet."
Grisha's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Because the Reiss family still has its uses," Lock replied, his tone calm, deliberate.
"I can use them—to climb higher, gain power and influence within the walls."
"What are you saying?" Grisha's voice trembled. A shocking thought crossed his mind.
"Lock… you intend to—?"
Lock's expression didn't change. "That's right. I intend to rise high enough to challenge the order itself. To gain strength that cannot be ignored."
He took a step closer, his shadow falling across Grisha.
"I'll use that power to crush the royal government from within, to turn Paradis into something more than a cage. When that happens, we'll have the strength to liberate every Eldian enslaved by Marley."
His voice was calm, but his eyes burned with quiet fire.
Grisha stood frozen. He had seen this kind of fervor before—long ago, among the Eldian Restorationists who had once fought beside him in Marley. The same eyes. The same conviction.
But he had also seen those flames extinguished, one by one.
By betrayal. By failure. By death.
His son Zeke had destroyed them all.
Grisha's heart ached with the memory. "You speak of impossible things," he whispered. "The royal family has ruled for over a century. They are not easily toppled. Even with power, the people will not rise."
Lock tilted his head slightly, a faint smile returning.
"In the face of absolute power, obstacles mean nothing. Once we control the Founding Titan, the tens of thousands of Titans outside the walls will answer to us."
Grisha's breath caught. "If… if that's true, then yes, the balance could shift. But I can't use that power. Not without royal blood."
Lock's gaze sharpened. "Royal blood… If I recall correctly, your first wife—Dina—was a descendant of the Fritz family, wasn't she?"
Grisha's eyes dimmed. He nodded, voice heavy with grief.
"Yes. Dina was of royal blood. But she's gone. Turned into a Pure Titan by Marley… and I don't know where she is."
Lock remained silent for a moment, then spoke with deliberate calm.
"Uncle… what if I told you I saw a Pure Titan that looked like her? In Shiganshina District."
Grisha froze.
"What did you say?"
Lock's voice was soft, almost sympathetic. "I can't be certain. But I saw her before the breach. A Titan unlike the others—its eyes seemed to remember something. You felt it, didn't you? The moment you looked at her?"
Grisha's face went pale. His breathing quickened as old memories surged back.
Dina's face. Her promise. No matter what form I take, I will find you.
He had tried to bury those words. Now they clawed back to the surface.
"Lock… if that's true…" His voice trembled. "Then Dina's Titan—she might still be out there…"
Lock nodded. "Exactly. And if that's the case, then the key to everything—the link to the royal bloodline—still exists. We can still awaken the Founding Titan's true power."
Grisha staggered back a step, the enormity of it crashing over him.
"But how? Even if I found her, she's a mindless Titan!"
Lock's tone was quiet but firm. "Then we change that. One step at a time."
The conviction in his voice silenced the forest around them.
For the first time, Grisha didn't see a boy in front of him—he saw a leader. Someone shaped by time, sharpened by purpose.
"Uncle," Lock said softly, "the world outside these walls has already begun to move. Marley's ships will come sooner or later. The people inside the walls still live in ignorance, believing these stones can protect them forever. They need someone to lead them when everything collapses. And that someone can't be a ghost from the past."
Grisha met his gaze, breathing unevenly. "And you think it can be you?"
Lock smiled faintly. "No. It will be me."
For a long moment, neither spoke. The air between them was heavy—filled with unspoken trust and fear.
Finally, Grisha sheathed his knife again. "Then what do you plan to do now?"
Lock's eyes turned toward the horizon, where the faint outline of Wall Rose glimmered through the trees. "For now? I'll return. Prepare. Observe. Every step must be precise. When the time comes, I'll act. And when I do, you'll understand everything."
Grisha hesitated. Then, for the first time, he bowed his head slightly. "If what you say is true… then perhaps, just perhaps, there's still hope left for our people."
Lock turned away, his voice drifting through the forest.
"Hope isn't something we wait for, Uncle. It's something we take."
The wind stirred the leaves again as he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Grisha standing alone among the trees—his heart torn between disbelief and the fragile spark of faith he thought he'd long lost.
---
A/N: Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon
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