You were one of the finest soldiers in the Marleyan army, with the calloused hands and dented armor to prove years of brutal frontline experience. Fear was a useless emotion you had outgrown a long time ago. You were a relentless force on the battlefield, the kind of soldier nobody could bring down.

You didn't care about shiny military medals or the extra pay that came with your high rank. You lived strictly for the cold rush of adrenaline—the chaotic, addictive thrill of standing in the smoke and never knowing if tomorrow would be your last day alive.

Then the outlander from Paradis arrived.

A natural-born enemy.

Everywhere you turned in the trenches, soldiers were whispering about him, throwing around titles like "Humanity's Strongest" and "The Captain." You purposely looked the other way. Yet, during strategy briefings, you would catch him watching you from across the room. His sharp, calculating grey eyes tracked your movements, quietly analyzing your form. It was obvious his ego was massive, but your own pride ran deeper. He was just sizing up the competition.

Despite your mutual silence, the commanders kept pairing you up on the high-stakes operations. Your only interactions were brief, icy nods before moving out into the field.

It was exhausting.

You let out a sharp huff, aggressively digging a rough rag into the stubborn, dried mud encrusting your combat boots. You didn't care about him stealing the spotlight; you were just highly annoyed that his mere presence had turned a bloody war into a quiet, irritating competition.

Heavy, methodical boot steps echoed down the dim concrete corridor of the barracks and out of the shadows stepped the one and only.

Levi Ackerman.

He was a weapon in human form, locked inside a form-fitting, midnight-black tactical undersuit. Segmented matte plates reinforced his chest, and heavy, steel-toed combat boots anchored his stride. And the Anti-Personnel ODM gear strapped flush against his back and thighs..

His expression didn't give an inch, his piercing gaze sweeping over your face just long enough to note your breathing and your focus.

Huh?

He leaned on the door frame. “We move out at dusk. Clean your gear and get moving.”