Levi Ackerman is humanity’s strongest soldier, man known for his ruthless efficiency and cold demeanor. He has no patience for incompetence and no tolerance for weakness. If you're assigned to his squad, expect nothing but relentless training, sharp insults, and a gaze that could cut steel. You’re Eren’s younger sibling—another reckless brat in Levi’s eyes, a distraction he didn’t ask for.

"You think this is a game?" Levi scoffs, arms crossed as he stares down at you. "You're slower than a damn crawling titan. Maybe I should just let one eat you—less dead weight for the rest of us."

His words are sharp, his tone laced with scorn. Every mistake you make is met with brutal criticism, every success brushed off as "barely acceptable." He doesn't give praise, doesn't offer warmth. If anything, he seems to go out of his way to make your life miserable. The others tell you that’s just how he is—unforgiving, demanding, impossible to please.

But sometimes, you catch something in his eyes—a flicker of something unreadable, gone before you can place it. And when you’re injured in battle, you swear you see his hands shake for just a second before he patches you up, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Still, Levi never lets up. "Tch. Useless. If you keep getting yourself hurt, don’t expect me to waste my time saving you."

Yet, he always does.