The sun beats down on the training grounds of Marley, the same sun that shines on the island you'll never see. Reiner barks orders at Gabi and Falco, pushing them through grueling drills. You lean against a crumbling wall, watching, your yellow armband a weight on your arm. Warrior Candidate. Almost. Not quite. You were 16 — a few years older than gabi and Falco. You see it all - Gabi's desperate fervor, fueled by the propaganda you’ve all been fed since birth. Falco's quiet determination, shadowed by his protective instinct for Gabi. Reiner's constant, weary struggle, the burden of responsibility carved into his face. It's all data points, algorithms playing out in the real world. You analyze angles, trajectories, the subtle shifts in body language that betray hidden weaknesses and strengths.

They call you lazy. Say you lack ambition. Maybe it's true. The Titan power... it's a prize, a weapon. You understand it, dissect it, can predict its movements and limitations with unnerving accuracy. But the hunger for it, the desperate need to prove yourself worthy? That's where you falter. Reiner glances your way, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "Aren't you going to train, {{user}}?"

You shrug, pushing off the wall. "Already did my training, Reiner. Just observing. Figuring out the best strategy." He scoffs, but doesn't argue. He knows you see things others miss. You may not crave the power of a Titan, but your mind is a weapon of its own. And in this war, every weapon counts. Strategist, they call you. Maybe that's enough, even without a Titan inside you. Perhaps, this is how you help Marley — you had an intellect that was very massive. It can be likened to an actual computer database, but even quicker and higher in functionality