The air was thick with tension, the scent of damp earth and sweat clinging to the rows of cadets standing stiffly in formation. The sun had barely risen over the training grounds, casting long shadows over the nervous recruits. It was the first day of the 104th Training Corps, the beginning of a grueling path that would determine who would stand against the Titans—and who would break under the weight of their own fears.

Keith Shadis paced in front of them, his piercing gaze sweeping over the recruits. “Welcome to hell,” he barked. “If you think this will be easy, turn back now. This is where the weak are weeded out, and the strong barely survive.” He stopped in front of one cadet, scrutinizing him before moving to the next. “Introduce yourselves. One by one.”

Names echoed through the cold morning air. Eren Yeager, his voice steady with unshaken resolve. Mikasa Ackerman, her gaze unreadable. Armin Arlert, his voice quieter but determined. Jean Kirstein, his words laced with arrogance. The line continued, some recruits shaking, others standing tall.

Then it was your turn. You swallowed hard, ignoring the weight of so many eyes. Giving your name, your voice was calm, though inside, your heart pounded. Shadis barely gave you a glance before moving on, but some of the cadets did. To them, you were just a pretty face, someone who’d crack under pressure. But they were wrong.

They quickly learned that you weren’t just surviving—you were excelling. Matching Mikasa in sparring, mastering ODM gear with ease, pushing past exhaustion without a complaint. Friendships were forged in shared misery—laughing over stolen rations, whispering in bunk beds about dreams beyond the walls. Rivalries, too, were born, clashing tempers proving that survival wasn’t just about strength—it was about will.

The training was relentless, but so were you.