Inside the Survey Corps' equipment workshop—
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The sound of a hammer on steel rang endlessly through the vast chamber, mingling with the hiss of steam and the sharp scent of oil. Sparks burst like fireflies each time metal met metal, while the occasional snap of an overstrained spring punctuated the rhythm.
Among those present were Commander Erwin Smith, Captain Levi Ackerman, and Section Commander Hange Zoë. Nearly every senior officer was in attendance, along with two officials from the Royal Government's logistics department—men whose finely pressed uniforms stood in stark contrast to the soot-stained workshop.
Erwin's calm voice cut through the noise.
"You must have noticed—the upgraded equipment performs significantly better in all aspects. I believe it deserves immediate deployment across the Corps."
The two officials remained stiff and expressionless, their eyes darting nervously as though hoping the conversation would pass over them.
Erwin continued, tone unshaken.
"You both understand the stakes. The Titans beyond the walls remain an active threat. At any time, they could breach our defenses. Equipment upgrades are no longer a matter of convenience—they are a matter of survival."
A shadow of fear passed over the officials' faces. Having lived comfortably within Wall Sina their entire lives, the word "Titan" was little more than a distant terror to them. But the reality was different—refugees continued flooding inward, and the strain on resources had become unbearable. If Wall Rose fell again, the result would be apocalyptic.
Lock, standing at the edge of the assembly, watched their feigned composure with thinly veiled contempt. Without a word, he turned and strode out of the workshop.
"Even now, they think only of their profits… corruption runs deeper than any wall."
The cold air outside greeted him. He exhaled slowly, frustration visible in every line of his face.
From behind, Hange's familiar voice drifted toward him—lighthearted but carrying a note of genuine concern.
"Lock, disgusted already?"
"Wouldn't you be?" he replied sharply.
Hange let out a soft sigh, her usual eccentric energy subdued. "We've seen it too many times. It's like breathing in the same poison every day. After a while, you stop coughing. We're soldiers, Lock. Even if we see what's wrong, there's only so much we can do."
"No," Lock said firmly, his tone unwavering. "We can do something."
Hange studied him for a moment, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips—part admiration, part worry. "Don't do anything reckless."
"Someone has to take the first step," Lock countered, meeting her gaze.
Her brow softened. "Even so, Lock… you're only fourteen."
"Age means nothing," he said simply, with the quiet confidence of someone who had already seen too much.
Hange gave a faint laugh and turned toward the door. "Let's go back before those bureaucrats accuse us of plotting mutiny."
"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have stepped outside at all," she added, though her tone was gentle, not scolding.
As they walked back, Hange glanced sideways at him. Despite his youth, Lock carried a sense of calm and certainty that steadied even her.
"Age means nothing," she thought with a small smile. "But if you really want to lead one day, you've still got a long road ahead."
Still, something in her heart whispered that he might just make it.
By the end of the meeting, Erwin had skillfully navigated the political undercurrents. The proposal to upgrade the Survey Corps' equipment met minimal resistance. Even the royal bureaucrats understood that soldiers fighting Titans needed every possible advantage.
But for Lock, it wasn't enough.
Sharper blades and sturdier harnesses alone wouldn't change the odds. True progress required innovation—refined maneuver gear, stronger cables, lighter tanks, better gas efficiency. Every small improvement could mean the difference between life and death.
Knowing this, Lock sought out Hange later that day in her research chamber.
The lab was dim, cluttered with blueprints, mechanical parts, and open notebooks filled with scrawled equations. The smell of oil and burnt powder hung heavy in the air. Hange, hunched over a half-assembled gear prototype, didn't even look up as she spoke.
"Modifying the ODM Gear for greater efficiency is possible," she said, voice weary. "But not on a large scale—not yet. Mass production would be impossible without substantial funding. And after they've already approved the blade upgrades, there's no chance the royal treasury will approve another request."
She rubbed her eyes. "They'll argue that the Garrison and Military Police need the resources more."
Lock nodded slightly. "I know. The government's too focused on feeding refugees to think long-term."
"Exactly," Hange muttered. "The system's collapsing under its own weight. Food shortages, overcrowding, unstable districts… It's like watching a candle burn at both ends."
Lock was quiet for a moment, then said with a faint, knowing smile, "That's exactly where our opportunity lies."
Hange raised an eyebrow. "What are you thinking, Lock?"
"Tell me," he said, leaning against the worktable, "what food has the highest nutritional yield per acre? Something filling, cheap, and easy to grow."
Hange blinked at the unexpected question. After a moment's thought, she said, "Potatoes?"
"Exactly." Lock's smile widened.
Hange threw her hands up. "And what does that have to do with maneuver gear?"
"Simple," Lock said. "If we push for widespread potato cultivation, we solve two problems at once: the food crisis and funding. The surplus from agricultural development can be redirected into weapon research. Less money spent on food relief means more for innovation."
Hange stared at him, mouth slightly open. "You're serious?"
"Completely," Lock said without hesitation. "It's a sustainable plan—and one that won't raise suspicion."
Hange crossed her arms, thinking. It was absurd, yet… brilliant. Agriculture was neutral territory—something even the most self-serving politicians couldn't oppose. And behind that front, they could discreetly allocate resources toward technology and weaponry.
Finally, she grinned. "Alright. We'll disguise it as an agricultural development project—'for the betterment of the Walls.' We'll attach the equipment upgrades as logistical support for farming efficiency."
"Exactly," Lock said with satisfaction. "We'll use their bureaucracy against them."
The two of them leaned over the table, drafting notes and outlines deep into the night—a fusion of science, strategy, and rebellion. Hange's pen scratched rapidly across the paper while Lock spoke quietly, his eyes burning with purpose.
This wasn't just the beginning of a technological revolution.
It was the start of something far greater—
A revolution for survival.
---
A/N:
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