In the following days, Lock's life became very regular. Each day was either spent training or on his way to train, with the rare free moments reserved for time with his family.
Eren was still determined to join the Survey Corps. This time, however, Carla did not openly object. There was clearly a reason behind Grisha's silence on the matter. With little time left, he had already begun preparing for the day Eren would inherit the Attack Titan.
The process would be cruel, but there was no other path.
Eren, of course, knew nothing of this. He was simply thrilled that his dream was no longer being denied. Abandoning his clumsy three-sword style, he focused on dual blades and proper balance training instead.
Driven by his enthusiasm, Mikasa occasionally joined the practice out of boredom. Yet even with only a few sessions, her progress far outstripped Eren's. She had already begun to display both outstanding physical ability and natural talent—unmistakable signs of the Ackerman bloodline's strength.
As for Harry's family, their lives had settled into a comfortable rhythm. Thanks to Lock's influence and Harry's own abilities, he secured a stable position with the Survey Corps and avoided conscription into the frontlines. In such a harsh society, peace and stability were treasures.
One morning, after breakfast with Eren and Harry's family, Lock set out for the valley.
After some work had been done to clear and isolate the area, it had become Ymir's designated training ground.
As soon as Lock arrived, he saw Ymir in her Jaw Titan form darting through the forest at surprising speed. Her clawed fingers gleamed like blades, leaving deep scars in every tree she raked.
The sight showed just how sharp her claws really were.
"The forms of the Nine Titans vary by inheritor," Lock thought. "Even among the Attack Titan, the difference between Eren and Grisha's forms was significant. But Ymir… her Jaw Titan is far weaker than it should be."
Over the past days, Ymir had trained relentlessly, staying in her Titan form until her body could endure no more before reverting. Yet even with such intensity, her form hadn't improved. She was nothing like the stronger, hardened Jaw Titan that Lock remembered seeing later.
Her size, speed, and strength all seemed stunted.
"This shouldn't be the case. Does she still have hidden abilities waiting to be drawn out?" Lock wondered.
At that moment, Ymir sensed his arrival. She charged toward him, jaws snapping, her serrated teeth glinting menacingly in the sunlight.
"Ymir, stop!" Petra cried out in alarm.
But Ymir ignored her, barreling straight at Lock. Just as they were about to collide, she suddenly leapt upward, sailing overhead with a mocking glint in her eyes.
Her triumph was short-lived.
A flash of steel cut the air—
"Shhk!"
Lock's blade severed her right foot mid-leap.
"Thud!"
Ymir crashed to the ground, tumoring until she lay sprawled in the dirt. She scrambled upright, staring at her half-severed foot with visible frustration.
Petra rushed forward, panic in her voice. "Lock! What are you doing? How can you just—"
"I cut the Titan's foot, not Ymir's," Lock interrupted calmly.
He gestured toward the limb already steaming and regenerating. "You know how Titans heal. This is nothing."
"…I—" Petra fell silent, unable to argue.
Ymir's steaming form reared before Lock, annoyance burning in her Titan eyes. "Isn't that a little ruthless, Captain?"
"I don't like things that stay flat," Lock replied cryptically.
Both Ymir and Petra froze, baffled. Then, belatedly, they understood.
Ymir's mouth twitched with irritation, while Petra blushed and instinctively straightened her posture.
Before either could speak, hurried footsteps echoed through the valley.
Hange appeared at the entrance, her voice urgent. "Lock! The Commander wants to see you."
"Got it. I'll head over right away."
But Hange didn't move on. Instead, her wide eyes stayed fixed on Ymir's Titan form.
Lock smirked. "Still not done studying that strange creature of yours?"
"No," Hange admitted honestly. "I just want to talk to Ymir."
Her expression was so earnest that even Lock was momentarily disarmed. He turned toward Ymir. "What do you think?"
"I—" Ymir began, ready to refuse. But Petra tugged at her sleeve gently. With a sigh, Ymir relented and gave a reluctant nod.
"Then I'll leave you to it," Lock said, already turning away.
He mounted up and rode quickly toward the garrison.
Erwin had been absent for days, wrestling with what Ymir had revealed. If he was calling Lock now, it meant he had reached a decision—perhaps even begun drafting the Survey Corps' next strategy.
"You won't let me down, Commander Erwin," Lock thought as he spurred his horse faster.
The ride was short, and Lock soon arrived at the base. Entering the commander's office, he found everything unchanged, the neat order of the room reflecting Erwin's disciplined nature.
"You're here."
Erwin's composure had returned. Gone was the flicker of doubt; he stood tall, calm, and unreadable.
"Commander," Lock said directly, "what do you want of me?"
Erwin met his eyes. "I've considered Ymir's words carefully. I admit, they shook me… but now I've decided. Our goal remains the same. The Survey Corps' purpose has never changed: for the freedom of humanity."
"So, Commander," Lock asked, his voice steady, "what's the plan?"
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