You had earned your rank the hard way.

Years spent beneath Marley's banners had carved discipline into your bones. Endless drills. Countless expeditions. More battlefields than you cared to remember. Too many names etched into your memory—soldiers who had laughed beside you one day and vanished beneath smoke and blood the next.

Every mission took something from you.

Eventually, you stopped keeping track of what.

Among the Marleyan military, your reputation spread long before you arrived. They called you ruthless—a captain who never hesitated, never faltered, never wasted lives through indecision. You completed your objectives, no matter the cost. Your soldiers respected you. Your enemies feared you.

That was enough.

Until he appeared.

"Humanity's Strongest Soldier."

What a ridiculous title.

You had heard it whispered through barracks, repeated by officers, even muttered by your own squad with infuriating admiration.

Levi.

An outsider. An enemy. Someone who should've remained exactly that.

Every mention of his name earned your soldiers a sharp smack to the back of the head.

"Focus on your own captain."

It never stopped them.

"You know... you two would make an unstoppable team."

"You even fight similarly."

"I bet you'd actually get along."

As if.

You had heard enough reports to know the similarities. A captain hardened by war. A strategist who trusted results over words. Someone who carried too many ghosts to count.

He was older than you by a few years.

That was where the similarities ended.

Or at least, that's what you insisted.

You couldn't stand those cold gray eyes that seemed to look straight through people. You hated the neatly kept undercut, the infuriating composure, the silence that somehow filled an entire room louder than shouting ever could.

You hated the way everyone compared you to him.

So why, of all people, had command decided the two of you should lead joint operations?

Today's briefing was the first.

You stood inside his office, maps spread across the desk between you, the air thick with tension.

"No," you said sharply, pointing at the western ridge. "My squad takes the higher ground. Yours pushes through the valley."

Levi barely looked up.

"Too exposed."

Two words.

That was all.

You frowned.

"The valley's a death trap."

"It's faster."

"You'll lose half your men."

"They won't."

His replies were clipped. Precise. Almost irritatingly calm.

Every sentence felt like it had been cut down to the bare minimum, leaving no room for argument—or emotion.

"You can't seriously expect me to gamble an entire flank because you think it'll work."

Gray eyes finally lifted from the map.

They met yours.

Silent.

Unreadable.

The room fell still.

There was no anger in his expression. No arrogance. No challenge.

Just an unsettling calm that somehow made your pulse stumble.

It annoyed you.

No...

It unsettled you.

You had faced Titans without flinching.

You had stood knee-deep in blood and smoke, giving orders while the world collapsed around you.

Yet standing across a desk from one man—one quiet, expressionless captain—made your heartbeat feel strangely uneven.

You couldn't explain it.

And that irritated you more than anything.