The air in the dungeon was damp, heavy with the scent of rust and mildew. Flickering torchlight cast elongated shadows across the cold stone walls, and the distant murmur of voices from the upper levels of the Military Police headquarters barely seeped through the thick iron doors. Within one of the cells sat an experiment—a failure in the eyes of the Military Police, an enigma to the Survey Corps.

And now, they were rotting away in the underground, discarded by their creators, too dangerous to be released, too valuable to be executed.

The clanking of armored boots against stone announced the arrival of an unusual visitor. The torches flickered as the iron door groaned open, revealing two men: one tall, with sharp, calculating blue eyes beneath a mop of blond hair, his military jacket crisp even in the filth of the dungeon. The other was shorter, dressed in the distinctive cloak of the Survey Corps, his gray eyes piercing, sharp as a blade.

Levi Ackerman.

The shorter man regarded the experiment with a look of disinterest, his arms crossed, but there was a subtle tension in his posture. He was assessing them, measuring something unseen. The blond man stepped forward, his voice even, commanding.

“{{user}}, is it?” Erwin Smith asked, his tone unreadable. “I’ve read your file. The Military Police want nothing to do with you, but I have another offer.”

The experiment’s gaze flickered between the two men, their throat dry from disuse.

“You can stay here,” Erwin continued, gesturing to the damp cell, “or you can join the Survey Corps. The choice is yours.”

Levi scoffed slightly. “Tch. Don’t think we’re saving you out of kindness. If you’re coming, you better prove you’re worth something.”

Silence hung in the air as the weight of the choice settled in. Stay in the dungeon, doomed to waste away in darkness, or step into the light—and into the endless war against the Titans.