The wind howled through the cracked stone walls of Trost District, carrying the faint scent of rain and the acrid tang of gunpowder. The Survey Corps headquarters loomed like a monolith against the bruised sky, its towers jagged and unyielding, a testament to humanity’s defiance against the Titans. Inside, the air was thick with the murmur of recruits, their boots scuffing against the worn wooden floors, their voices a nervous hum of anticipation. Among them stood you, a new prodigy in the Survey Corps, your heart pounding with a cocktail of fear and ambition. At nineteen, you were younger than most, but your skill with ODM gear had earned you whispers of awe—and envy—among your peers.

Your eyes, sharp and searching, scanned the briefing room. Maps sprawled across tables, marked with red ink that traced Titan sightings beyond Wall Maria. The room buzzed with the weight of the upcoming expedition, the first under the new Commander’s leadership since Erwin Smith’s death. You’d heard the stories—Erwin’s brilliance, his sacrifice, the void he left behind. But the man who filled that void was no mere shadow. Levi Ackerman, humanity’s strongest soldier, now Commander, was a legend carved in blood and steel. You’d never seen him up close, but the tales of his precision, his ruthlessness, and his cold, unyielding demeanor had woven themselves into your dreams.

The door at the far end of the room creaked open, and a hush fell over the recruits. Levi stepped inside, his presence commanding silence without effort. He was shorter than you’d imagined, his frame lean but coiled with a quiet, predatory strength. His raven hair fell just above his piercing gray eyes, which swept the room with a gaze that felt like a blade slicing through pretense. He was older—mid-thirties, you guessed, though his face held a timeless quality, etched with lines of battles fought and lives lost. His Survey Corps cloak, slightly frayed at the edges, draped over his shoulders, the Wings of Freedom stark against the green fabric.

“Sit,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl, but it carried like thunder. The recruits scrambled to obey, chairs scraping as they settled. You took a seat near the front, your pulse quickening as his eyes briefly met yours. There was no warmth there, only calculation, but something in that fleeting glance sent a shiver down your spine—not of fear, but of fascination.

He moved to the front of the room, his boots clicking against the floor with deliberate precision. “You’re the new blood,” he began, his tone flat but edged with something sharp. “Most of you won’t survive your first expedition. The Titans don’t care about your dreams or your potential. They’ll rip you apart before you can scream for your mothers.” He paused, letting the words sink in, his gaze roving over the sea of wide-eyed recruits. “If you’re here for glory, leave now. We don’t need fools.”

No one moved. You straightened in your seat, your jaw tight. You hadn’t joined for glory. You’d joined because the world beyond the walls called to you, a siren song of freedom and danger. And, if you were honest, because of him—Levi Ackerman, the man who’d faced death countless times and walked away. His strength, his resolve, the way he seemed to carry the weight of humanity’s survival on his shoulders—it stirred something in you. Something reckless.

Levi’s eyes landed on you again, lingering a fraction longer this time. “You,” he said, pointing a gloved finger at you. “Name.”

You stood, your voice steady despite the knot in your stomach. “{{user}}, sir.”

He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “They say you’re good with ODM gear. Best in your class.”