In the Karanis area of the Eastern Wall of Rose…
Here, Oluo and the others finally understood just how great the results of Lock's potato project were.
Without comparison, there was no harm.
The refugees in Karanis could only receive a small ration of bread each day—barely enough to keep them alive.
Their faces were pale and hollow, their bodies little more than skin and bone. Eyes dulled, they moved like ghosts, stripped of all vitality.
If they hadn't been forced to relocate from time to time, they might have seemed no different from corpses already left behind.
Each wore an armband of the Volunteer Regiment, marking them for conscription early next year. When the time came, they would be sent beyond the walls to "reclaim lost territory" from the Titans. Everyone knew what that meant.
Even Oluo—whose sharp tongue rarely softened—could only stare with pity, his last shred of faith in the royal government finally shattering.
"Sending them outside the walls to fight Titans… What's the difference between that and murder?!"
Lock, walking at the head of the formation, answered quietly.
"There is no difference. To the royal government, these people were already meant to die."
"Why?!" Oluo's voice cracked, his eyes red with anger.
Eld and Gunther exchanged grim looks beside him.
Lock's tone stayed calm, though his words cut coldly through the air.
"Because the land that's left inside the Walls can't feed everyone."
He wasn't indifferent. He simply saw the truth for what it was. Unless the royal government allowed him full authority—total control over manpower, resources, and every acre of fertile soil—there was no solution.
The potatoes grown in Trost were the best seedlings they could cultivate under limited conditions. Even with that success, it was only enough to sustain one district. The rest of humanity had to fend for themselves.
And the royal government would never grant Lock that kind of power. The success at Trost had already stretched their tolerance to its limit. Erwin must have faced immense political pressure because of it, yet he never once complained or revealed how heavy that burden was.
That was reality.
There was no world where everyone could live peacefully. Someone's comfort always came at someone else's cost.
Understanding that, Lock never once refused an assignment. He knew exactly what Erwin was preparing for now—the confrontation with Ymir.
After months of tension within the Walls and the Survey Corps itself, Erwin had made his decision. The decisive moment was approaching.
But before that, Lock's team still had to carry out their symbolic mission beyond the Wall.
The air grew heavy as they approached the Karanis command post. Pushing away distraction, the squad followed Lock to deliver their orders.
A familiar voice called from ahead.
"Lock? You're here too?"
"Uncle Hannes?" Lock blinked in surprise. "You were transferred here?"
The man looked older, more worn than Lock remembered. Years of guilt had carved themselves into his expression.
Lock smiled faintly. "That day wasn't your fault, Uncle. Don't carry that weight forever."
Hannes exhaled a shaky breath.
"I know… but every time I close my eyes, I see it all over again. I don't think I'll ever forget."
His gaze softened as he looked at the young soldier before him. Lock, barely into his teens, stood with the calm of a veteran and the resolve of a commander.
"Your father would be proud of who you've become," Hannes said quietly. "You've already surpassed him."
Lock looked away. "I hope so."
He took out the official document and handed it over. "We're on assignment, Uncle. Could you help us pass the message?"
"Of course."
Hannes checked the paper and paused when he saw the seal: Squad Leader Lock.
For a moment, he stood frozen, marveling at how far Grisha's son had come. In such a short time, this boy had risen to a rank that many soldiers never reached in a lifetime.
Then again, Hannes knew Lock's reputation—his skill with ODM Gear, his record of Titan kills, his composure under pressure. In the Survey Corps, ability mattered more than age, and Lock's achievements left no room for doubt.
After verifying the orders, Hannes led them to the top of the Wall.
The massive iron gates below remained shut tight. The royal decree forbade opening them, claiming it was to "maintain city security."
So the only way out was the vertical ladder built for ODM Gear—a slow, grueling climb, but the only option left.
Lock went first. Wind whipped across the Wall's surface as he reached the top, scanning the horizon beyond. Endless plains stretched outward, littered with the skeletal remains of old villages and the ruins of humanity's past.
Oluo and the others followed, attaching their cables to the stone ledge.
Once everyone was ready, Lock gave a curt nod.
"Let's move."
And with that, they vanished into the wilderness.
Hannes watched from below until the last shadow disappeared into the distant haze. He bowed his head and murmured a silent prayer.
Please… let them return alive.
Meanwhile, far behind the Wall, another scene unfolded.
Erwin Smith, accompanied by Captain Levi and several elite members of the Survey Corps, advanced through the bustling farming area—the same one Lock had built from the ground up months earlier.
They headed straight for a modest wooden cabin near the fields, where two figures waited inside: Petra Rall and Ymir.
Around them, the workers quickly noticed the fully armed soldiers approaching. The cheerful chatter of harvest ceased. No one dared to linger. Within moments, the area emptied, leaving only the rustle of wind through the wheat and the echo of boots against the soil.
Erwin stepped through the doorway first, his expression unreadable. Levi followed silently behind, his presence sharp and suffocating.
Inside, Petra and Ymir sat opposite each other at a wooden table.
Hange Zoë stood beside them, eyes locked on Ymir with clinical intensity.
The instant Erwin entered, Petra and Hange both rose to attention.
"Commander!" they said in unison, saluting smartly.
Erwin acknowledged them with a curt nod, then turned his gaze on Ymir.
The woman met his eyes coolly, unflinching. For a long moment, neither spoke. The air between them thickened, charged with unspoken meaning.
Finally, Erwin broke the silence.
"You seem to understand why we're here."
Ymir's lips curved faintly, more bitter than amused.
"Of course I do. Ever since you pulled that pervert Lock off my back, I knew this day would come."
Her voice was calm, but her eyes burned with quiet defiance.
Levi's hand hovered near his blade.
Hange tilted her head slightly, observing every twitch of Ymir's expression.
And Erwin Smith, face unreadable, took one deliberate step forward.
Outside, the fields Lock had once nurtured swayed gently in the wind—serene, indifferent to the storm that was about to begin inside that small wooden room.
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A/N:
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