There is a very specific, deeply unpleasant acoustic resonance to an underground military dungeon.
It is entirely built of solid, unyielding limestone.
The walls do not absorb sound.
They reflect it.
Every drop of condensation falling from the ceiling echoes like a gunshot.
Every shift of the heavy iron chains bolted to the floor sounds like a collapsing bridge.
It is a sensory nightmare for a normal human being.
For a fifteen-year-old boy whose central nervous system is permanently hardwired with hyper-vigilant combat paranoia, it was absolute torture.
I was sitting on a cold, damp stone bench.
My wrists were bound in heavy iron manacles.
The manacles were connected to a thick steel chain, which was bolted directly into the bedrock.
My Peter Parker intellect had completely dismantled the structural integrity of the handcuffs within the first forty-five seconds of my incarceration.
‘The locking mechanism is a primitive, single-tumbler design,’ my brain had calculated instantly.
‘The iron is porous and poorly forged.
The hinge pin is exposed.’
‘I could pick this lock using nothing but the metal aglet of my shoelace and exactly three pounds of applied rotational torque.’
I hadn’t picked it, of course.
Escaping a military holding cell was a logistical error of catastrophic proportions.
If you pick the lock, they label you a flight risk.
If you are a flight risk, they post more guards.
If they post more guards, I couldn’t take a nap.
So, I remained entirely compliant, perfectly still, and profoundly annoyed.
Directly across the narrow, torch-lit cell, my idiot twin brother was currently unconscious.
Eren was chained to a heavy wooden bedframe.
His manacles were significantly thicker than mine.
His chains were bolted to all four corners of the bed.
They were treating him like a rabid animal.
Which, biologically speaking, was entirely accurate.
I leaned my head back against the freezing limestone wall.
My body was experiencing a severe, agonizing physiological crash.
The Adrenal-Stim syringe I had used in the Trost supply depot had fully expired.
The chemical high was gone.
It left behind a crushing, suffocating wave of lactic acid and cellular exhaustion.
My muscles felt like they had been beaten with iron pipes.
My eyelids weighed fifty pounds each.
I needed calories.
I needed protein, carbohydrates, and a massive influx of refined sugar.
Paradis Island military rations consisted of stale bread and heavily salted, unidentifiable root vegetables.
That was not going to repair the catastrophic micro-tears in my muscle fibers.
I closed my eyes.
I mentally summoned the glowing blue interface of the Gacha Survival System.
I had one standard Exchange Ticket remaining.
I hadn’t wanted to use it.
I preferred to hoard them.
But my core temperature was dropping, and my metabolic rate was cannibalizing my own muscle mass just to keep my organs functioning.
‘System,’ I commanded silently.
‘Execute a single standard pull.’
The digital slot machine materialized in the pitch-black void of my mind.
It spun with a quiet, melodic chime.
It clicked into place.
A bright, solid blue light illuminated my mental interface.
‘[Congratulations!
Host has pulled an [Uncommon] Tier Reward!]’
‘[Item Acquired: 24-Pack of Military-Grade High-Calorie Protein Bars (Peanut Butter Chocolate Flavor).]’
A heavy, rectangular cardboard box materialized instantly in my digital inventory.
I didn’t smile, but my inner Parker persona absolutely wept with joy.
I manifested a single protein bar directly into the palm of my shackled right hand.
It was wrapped in sleek, modern foil.
It felt heavy.
Dense.
I used my teeth to tear the foil wrapper open, entirely bypassing my restricted mobility.
I took a bite.
The taste was indescribable.
It wasn’t just peanut butter and chocolate.
It was the taste of modern food science.
It was the taste of whey protein isolate, high-fructose corn syrup, and artificial flavorings that had no business existing in the year 850.
My body reacted instantly.
The simple carbohydrates hit my bloodstream like a localized lightning strike.
The fog of physical exhaustion began to recede, pushed back by a massive, aggressive wave of synthetic calories.
I ate the entire bar in exactly three bites.
I manifested a second one.
I ate that one too.
‘[Metabolic stabilization achieved.
Cellular repair initiated.]’
I let out a long, slow breath, resting my hands on my knees.
The immediate threat of starvation was neutralized.
Now, I just had to deal with the political nightmare.
The Garrison standoff in Trost had been a complete disaster.
Commander Kitz Weilman, a man entirely lacking in emotional regulation and tactical foresight, had cornered us against the wall.
He had ordered a cannon to be fired directly at us.
A solid iron cannonball.
My unified mind had mapped the trajectory instantly.
I had exactly a 0.5-second window to intercept the cannon’s fuse mechanism with a thrown blade.
I had been fully prepared to do it.
I had been fully prepared to commit high treason in front of two hundred witnesses.
But Eren had panicked first.
He had bitten his own hand.
He had summoned a massive, steaming, localized ribcage of Titan bone to block the projectile.
It was an incredible display of anomalous biological power.
It was also highly unsanitary, extremely loud, and entirely ruined my plan to handle the situation quietly.
Commander Pixis had intervened shortly after, utilizing Eren’s Titan form to physically plug the breached gate of Trost with a massive boulder.
It was a victory for humanity.
But for me, it was a logistical catastrophe.
We were now the property of the military judicial system.
We were locked in the lowest level of the central command dungeon.
Awaiting a tribunal that would decide if we were saviors, or if we were going to be dissected in a laboratory.
Across the cell, the heavy iron chains rattled loudly.
Eren let out a low, pained groan.
He shifted on the wooden bed, his eyes fluttering open.
He stared blindly at the stone ceiling for a few seconds.
His green eyes slowly focused on the torches.
Then, he felt the heavy iron cuffs on his wrists.
He violently jerked his arms, the chains snapping taut with a loud, metallic CLANG.
“What…
what is this?!” Eren panicked, thrashing against the restraints.
“Stop moving, you absolute liability,” I said, my voice deadpan and entirely devoid of sympathy.
Eren snapped his head toward me.
His eyes widened as he took in the sight of me sitting on the bench, covered in dried blood and ash, bound in my own chains.
“Kai!
Why are we chained up?!” Eren yelled, his voice echoing painfully off the limestone walls.
“Did we lose?!
Did the Titans breach the inner wall?!”
“The inner wall is perfectly intact,” I replied, crossing my legs lazily despite the shackles.
“You successfully lifted a massive boulder.
You plugged the hole.
You saved Trost.”
“Then why are we in a dungeon?!”
“Because you are an unregulated biological weapon of mass destruction, Eren,” I explained calmly, as if I were reading a weather report.
“Humanity does not possess the psychological fortitude to trust a teenager who can spontaneously transform into a fifteen-meter cannibal.”
“I’m not a cannibal!
I fight them!” Eren argued, straining against his cuffs.
“I know that.
You know that.
Mikasa knows that,” I sighed.
“But the Military Police do not care about your personal motivations.
They only care about the preservation of the status quo.”
I manifested a third protein bar into my hand.
I ripped the foil with my teeth and tossed it across the cell.
It landed perfectly on Eren’s chest.
“Eat that.
It will stabilize your blood sugar.
You are currently operating on a severe caloric deficit.”
Eren looked down at the modern, shiny foil wrapper.
He looked back up at me with absolute confusion.
“What is this?”
“It is a highly concentrated block of survival nutrients,” I lied smoothly.
“I stole it from the Garrison supply depot.
Do not ask questions.
Just consume it.”
Eren struggled to maneuver his chained hands.
He finally managed to peel the foil back and took a tentative bite.
His eyes instantly widened.
He had never tasted chocolate before.
He devoured the entire bar in a matter of seconds, practically licking the wrapper clean.
“That was…
incredible,” Eren breathed, the color slowly returning to his pale face.
“It’s a tactical advantage,” I muttered.
“Now, listen to me very carefully, Eren.”
I dropped the lazy facade.
I leaned forward, my eyes locking onto his with cold, unyielding authority.
“We are going to face a military tribunal.
It will be a public spectacle.”
“The Military Police will advocate for your immediate execution and dissection.”
Eren flinched, his jaw tightening.
“The Survey Corps will advocate to take custody of you, utilizing you as an asset to reclaim Wall Maria.”
“I want to join the Survey Corps!” Eren declared instantly.
“I know you do.
Which is why you need to control your temper,” I warned him.
“If you scream.
If you threaten them.
If you act like a monster, they will shoot you right in the middle of the courtroom.”
“You must project absolute, uncompromising submission to humanity’s survival.”
“And what about you?” Eren asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“Why are you in chains?
You didn’t turn into a Titan.”
“I am an accomplice,” I deadpanned.
“I murdered three Titans in a basement without using ODM cables.
I then orchestrated your tactical deployment during the Trost reclamation.”
“They do not know what I am.”
“They suspect I am either a prodigy or a sociopath.
Statistically, they are leaning toward sociopath.”
Before Eren could respond, a heavy, metallic sound echoed down the corridor outside our cell.
It was the sound of the main iron gate unlocking.
My threat-assessment radar pinged instantly.
I didn’t need to see them to know who was coming.
The acoustics of the hallway painted a perfect, high-fidelity picture in my mind.
‘Two individuals.
Approaching at a steady, synchronized pace.’
‘Individual One: Heavy footfalls.
Leather boots with a reinforced heel.
Stride length indicates a height of exactly six feet, two inches.
Confident.
Authoritative.’
‘Individual Two: Extremely light footfalls.
Almost entirely silent.
Zero kinetic waste.
Center of gravity is unnaturally low.
Height is approximately five feet, three inches.
Highly lethal.’
“Company,” I whispered to Eren.
“Do not speak unless spoken to.”
The heavy iron door of our cell groaned open.
The torchlight flickered violently, casting long, dancing shadows across the stone floor.
Two men stepped into the cell.
The first man was Commander Erwin Smith.
He was imposing, perfectly groomed, and radiated an aura of absolute, unwavering command.
He didn’t look at us with fear.
He looked at us with deep, calculating curiosity.
He was a man who viewed the world as a massive, complex chessboard, and we were two highly anomalous pieces that had just completely upended his strategy.
The second man was Captain Levi.
My Peter Parker intellect immediately analyzed his physical structure.
He was short.
Five feet, three inches.
But his center of gravity was flawless.
His muscle density was entirely localized for explosive rotational velocity.
He wasn’t just a soldier.
He was a human spinning top.
A highly compressed, terrifyingly sharp blender with a terrible undercut.
My Leon S.
Kennedy survival instincts practically screamed.
‘Apex predator detected.
Lethality confirmed.
Avoid close-quarters engagement at all costs.’
Levi stepped past Erwin, his cold, steely grey eyes locking directly onto Eren.
He didn’t say a word.
He just stared, projecting an overwhelming wave of sheer intimidation.
Eren swallowed hard, shrinking slightly against the wooden bedframe.
Levi then slowly turned his head.
His dead, unamused eyes locked onto me.
I didn’t shrink.
I didn’t blink.
I just stared back, utilizing my Leon persona to completely neutralize his psychological pressure.
We held eye contact for a long, agonizing ten seconds.
It was a silent, intense standoff between a man who had killed hundreds of Titans, and a twelve-year-old boy who just really wanted a nap.
“You have dead eyes, brat,” Levi finally spoke.
His voice was low, flat, and completely devoid of warmth.
“They look like the eyes of a soldier who has seen the end of the world.”
“I assure you, Captain, I am just severely sleep-deprived,” I deadpanned without missing a beat.
“My circadian rhythm has been catastrophically disrupted by the Garrison’s inability to maintain basic perimeter security.”
Erwin Smith raised a thick blonde eyebrow, stepping forward into the torchlight.
“You are Kai Yeager,” Erwin said, his deep voice echoing smoothly in the cell.
“The cadet who secured the Trost supply depot.”
“I am merely a logistical manager, Commander,” I replied, leaning back against the cold wall.
“I simply optimized the available resources.”
“You killed three Titans in an enclosed space without utilizing your ODM gear,” Erwin countered gently, stating it as a fact, not a question.
“Several cadets witnessed you completely dismantle the anomalies using nothing but standard blades and extreme kinetic velocity.”
“They were very clumsy Titans,” I lied effortlessly.
“It was a tragedy of poor balance and localized friction.
I simply helped gravity complete its natural cycle.”
Levi let out a sharp, derisive scoff.
“He’s a smartass,” Levi muttered, crossing his arms.
“I hate smartasses.”
“I am a realist, Captain,” I corrected him.
“And currently, the reality is that we are chained to the floor of a dungeon, awaiting a tribunal that will inevitably turn into a political circus.”
Erwin smiled.
It was a small, dangerous smile.
It was the smile of a man who had just found exactly what he was looking for.
“You are highly perceptive, Kai,” Erwin said, pulling a brass key from his pocket.
“The tribunal is tomorrow morning.”
“The Military Police, led by Commander Nile Dok, will demand your brother’s execution.”
“They will argue that his existence is a threat to the peace of the inner walls.”
“And what will the Survey Corps argue?” Eren asked, his voice trembling slightly with suppressed hope.
Erwin turned his gaze to Eren.
“We will argue that you are the key to humanity’s survival.”
“We will offer to take full custody of you.
To place you under the direct supervision of Captain Levi.”
“If you lose control, Levi will kill you.”
Erwin said it so casually, it was terrifying.
Eren didn’t flinch.
His green eyes burned with that familiar, manic fire.
“I want to join the Survey Corps,” Eren stated fiercely.
“I want to slaughter every last Titan on this earth.”
Levi stared at Eren for a moment, analyzing the raw, unadulterated hatred in the boy’s eyes.
“Not bad,” Levi muttered quietly.
“A monster with a purpose.
I can work with that.”
Erwin turned back to me.
“And what about you, Kai?”
“The reports indicate you actively tried to maintain a Rank Eleven status in the Cadet Corps.”
“You deliberately underperformed to avoid the Military Police, yet you clearly possess the skills of a Vanguard elite.”
“What do you want?”
I looked at the Commander of the Survey Corps.
I looked at humanity’s strongest soldier.
I didn’t want to fight.
I didn’t want to be a hero.
But I was bound to this idiot brother of mine by blood and trauma, and I couldn’t let him die.
“I want a guarantee, Commander,” I said, my voice dropping to a cold, deadpan monotone.
“A guarantee of what?” Erwin asked.
“I want a guaranteed eight hours of uninterrupted sleep every single night,” I demanded.
“I want a dedicated workshop with unrestricted access to raw materials, synthetic lubricants, and high-tension steel.”
“And I want a written exemption from all mandatory morning cardio exercises.”
Levi stared at me like I had just grown a second head.
“Are you negotiating a spa package in the middle of a dungeon?” Levi asked, his eye twitching slightly.
“I am negotiating my operational parameters, Captain,” I replied evenly.
“If you want me to keep my brother alive, and if you want me to maintain your squad’s ODM gear so they stop dying from preventable mechanical failures, that is my price.”
“I am highly efficient, but I absolutely refuse to be tired.”
Erwin Smith chuckled.
It was a genuine, deep sound of amusement.
“You are a very strange cadet, Kai Yeager.”
Erwin stepped forward, inserting the brass key into the lock of my manacles.
He turned the key.
The heavy iron cuffs clicked open, falling to the stone floor with a loud clatter.
I rubbed my bruised wrists, completely ignoring the fact that Levi’s hand had subtly drifted toward the hilt of his blade the moment I was free.
“The Survey Corps accepts your terms,” Erwin said smoothly.
“But tomorrow, during the tribunal, you must both play your parts perfectly.”
“The Premier will be watching.”
“Do not give them a reason to fear you more than they already do.”
Erwin turned and walked out of the cell, his heavy boots echoing down the corridor.
Levi lingered for a moment.
He looked at Eren, chained to the bed.
Then he looked at me, standing freely in the center of the cell.
“If you try to pick a fight with me, brat,” Levi warned quietly, his grey eyes turning to ice.
“I won’t care about your physics.
I will break your legs.”
“I actively avoid physical confrontation, Captain,” I deadpanned.
“It burns too many calories.”
Levi scoffed, turning on his heel and following Erwin into the darkness.
The heavy iron door slammed shut, but it didn’t lock.
We were officially assets of the Survey Corps.
I let out a long, exhausted sigh, collapsing back onto the stone bench.
“Did that just happen?” Eren whispered, still chained to the bed, staring at the closed door in sheer disbelief.
“Yes, Eren,” I grumbled, pulling my flat cap down over my eyes.
“You are now humanity’s savior, and I am officially humanity’s most exhausted mechanic.”
“Now go to sleep.
We have to manipulate a judicial system tomorrow, and I need my brain operating at full capacity.”
I leaned my head against the cold limestone.
I closed my eyes, letting the darkness take over.
I really hoped the Survey Corps had good coffee.
Because I was going to need an ocean of it to survive Captain Levi.