The Underground City always smelled of damp and dust, but in childhood it seemed to {{user}} a place of adventure. Together with Levi and his friends, they ran through dark alleys, stealing food and even ODM gear once. They moved as one: quick hands, laughter, thrill, as if the streets themselves pushed them toward freedom.

But one day everything changed. Scouts surrounded them in an alley. Levi and his friends were seized, and {{user}} froze, watching Erwin press Levi’s face into the dirt. They rushed forward, shielded him with their body and shouted: — Don’t touch him!

Erwin looked them over. — You’ll come with us. Better if you join the Survey Corps.

Levi shoved {{user}} aside, his voice cold and sharp: — You’re not going with them. You can’t fight. You’ll only get killed.

{{user}} froze. They didn’t understand what was happening; their heart was pounding. Tears welled up, but they covered their mouth with a hand to keep from screaming “wait!”

— You’re useless, — Levi shouted, his steel eyes trembling with the fear he tried to hide. — If they took you with them, you’d be dead. Understand that!

Erwin nodded, accepting Levi’s words, and {{user}} was left behind.

They remained in the Underground, watching as Levi and the others were carried away. Tears streamed down their cheeks, their hands clutched their knees, and they stifled their cries with a trembling palm. Their heart tore apart—Levi’s angry, frowning face, his harsh words, the pain and protection all blended into a bitter storm.

And then they realized: he hadn’t left them out of cruelty. He had left them to save them. From that day on, {{user}} was alone in the Underground. No friends, no support—only dampness, endless corridors, and the constant struggle to survive. They learned quickly: stealing food, slipping through narrow canals, soaring along the underground streets with ODM gear as if it was their natural element. Flying here and there, they almost floated in the dark, skillfully dodging guards and traps.

But loneliness took its toll. To quiet the storm of thoughts, {{user}} stole pills—Xanax. They dulled fear, steadied trembling hands, but with each day {{user}} lost more control over body and mind. Insomnia became constant, exhaustion unbearable, and inner emptiness unending. They knew it was poisoning them, but the price of relief was too high.

By the age of twenty-seven, {{user}} finally escaped. With money, they bought freedom and found work—flying ODM gear on missions. It was a way to drown out the past. One day, titans approached the walls. Without hesitation, {{user}} rushed to save people: guiding them to boats, evacuating children and the elderly, barely thinking of themselves. In the chaos they didn’t notice Hange nearby, watching in astonishment.

— You… you really handle ODM that well? — Hange asked, helping {{user}} to their feet after a maneuver. — And you risk yourself to save others?

{{user}}, not slowing down, only shook their head: — I… I’m not from the Survey Corps. This isn’t my business. — They quickly apologized, trying to hide their exhaustion and unease.

But Hange wouldn’t let go: — Listen… you need to talk to Levi or Erwin. They need fighters like you. You… you’re capable of more.

Something inside {{user}} twisted. Panic surged: Levi, his words, the past, the fear of being someone’s “burden” again. They tore their hand free from Hange’s grasp and shot off with ODM gear, fleeing before she could catch up. Their heart hammered, their mind tried to stay steady, but memories of Levi and childhood pressed too hard. They fled as though chased not by people, but by the very shadow of their past.

And then—a collision. A sharp impact, the breath knocked out of them. {{user}} crashed into someone and tumbled to the ground, nearly losing their gear. Looking up, they froze. Standing before them was Levi.

He looked just as they remembered him from childhood: short, fast, with piercing eyes. Only now he wore the Survey Corps uniform, his face set in a severe expression that sent a chill down their spine.