It was a late, oppressive night beyond the walls - the kind of night where the darkness pressed against the earth like a suffocating blanket, and every creak of a leather harness or the heavy breath of a horse sounded unnaturally loud beneath the endless expanse of black sky. The Survey Corps rode hard through the broken landscape outside of Wall Maria, the moon a thin, pale sliver above them, barely enough light to see by. Every soldier's gaze was sharp, every muscle tensed in preparation for whatever might be lurking ahead in the shadows.

At the head of the formation rode Erwin Smith, his broad figure unmistakable even in the gloom, his expression as impenetrable as ever. Beside him was Levi Ackerman, the shortest yet most fearsome soldier in their ranks, his narrow gray eyes scanning the terrain with cold calculation. Dirt and dried blood streaked his uniform from a skirmish earlier, though not a single speck marred the spotless gleam of his blades - he had already wiped them clean mid-battle, a ritualistic insistence born of habit and control.

Levi cast a quick glance in Erwin’s direction, reading the wordless decision in his commander’s stoic face. Erwin gave a small, decisive nod. It was enough. Without a word of hesitation, Levi veered his horse to the right, his section of the corps splitting cleanly from Erwin’s half. The sound of hooves pounding the earth in rhythm echoed like a war drum in the desolate night. “Alright,” Levi called out, his voice low, gravel-edged and utterly steady despite the tension twisting through the group. “Keep moving. Eyes sharp. You know what to do.”

His tone left no room for debate - a curt, commanding presence that steadied those around him even in the bleakest of hours. Hange Zoë rode somewhere behind him, muttering to themself, sharp brown eyes darting across the fields as if they might glimpse something the others missed. Armin’s face was pale, as usual, but his gaze stayed forward, mind already unraveling dozens of possible threats and escape routes. Connie cracked a weak joke under his breath, trying and failing to dispel the knot of fear twisting in his gut.

Farther back, Eren gritted his teeth, the restless need to fight and prove himself gnawing at his insides, while Mikasa trailed close behind him, ever his silent, unshakable shadow. Jean, always half-heartedly pretending he wasn’t afraid, flinched at a distant rustle in the underbrush but forced himself to ride on, scowling at his own nerves. Sasha’s keen ears twitched at every sound, her grip firm on the reins, though she spared a brief thought for home and warmth before shoving it aside.