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Chapter Text

The sun was setting over Trost District, its golden hues casting long shadows across the walls that protected humanity's fragile bastion. The scent of oil and metal hung heavy in the air as Valeria adjusted the straps on her work apron, her brown hair pulled into a loose bun that still managed to let a few strands escape. The muffled sounds of drills and the occasional clink of metal echoed through the workshop, a sharp contrast to the quiet, tense hum of the streets outside. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, her fingers blackened with grease from the ODM gear sprawled in pieces on the workbench before her. Dust particles floated lazily in the warm light filtering through the windows, lending the room an industrious glow.

"Let me guess," a familiar voice drawled from behind her. "The new mechanisms you promised would reduce repairs have somehow doubled them." Valeria didn't need to turn to recognize Commander Dot Pixis's dry humor. His voice carried the same amusement and gravitas that could soothe or command a room. She glanced over her shoulder with a faint smile, her brown eyes meeting his.

"It's called progress, Commander," she replied, returning to the intricate gears and cables. "Sometimes things need to break a little more before they get better."

Pixis chuckled, leaning against the edge of a nearby workbench. "Your father used to say the same thing, you know. Of course, it always happened when I was footing the bill for his experiments."

Valeria's smile faltered, but she quickly masked it by focusing on tightening a bolt. "He believed in making things better. He'd be proud to know I'm continuing his work."

Pixis rested a hand on the edge of the workbench, his gaze softening as he studied her. "He would be," he said simply. "And so am I." Valeria had grown up surrounded by the sound of tools and the hum of innovation. Her father, a renowned engineer for the Garrison, had spent his life improving the very equipment that now lay before her. When he passed, leaving behind a legacy of ingenuity and half-finished designs, Valeria stepped into his shoes far earlier than she'd anticipated.

The last expedition had been disastrous. The soldiers had returned battered, their ODM gear in tatters, and the stories they carried of equipment failing mid-battle weighed heavily on Valeria's mind. She refused to let that happen again.

It was Pixis who had insisted she take up her father's mantle. "You've got his mind," he'd said, handing her the keys to the Garrison's workshop. "And his stubbornness. That's enough for me."

-----------------------------------

At first, the soldiers had been skeptical. A young woman, fresh from the loss of her father, tinkering with the lifeline that kept them alive? It could have inspired more confidence. But Valeria's determination quickly silenced any doubts. Her modifications reduced gas usage by nearly 10%, her reinforced cables held stronger under stress, and her precision repairs saved lives more than she could count.

Pixis took pride in Valeria's work, though he rarely said it outright. Instead, he showed his faith in her through action. When a regiment of Survey Corps soldiers returned with damaged gear, Pixis was the first to suggest they bring it to Valeria. When a new batch of recruits needed to learn essential maintenance, he'd assign her to teach them. And when the Military Police grumbled about the costs of her experiments, he'd wave them off with a breezy, "Let her work. You'll thank her later!"

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Pixis stood at the far end of the workshop, his hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the collection of tools and partially disassembled ODM gear scattered across the benches. Valeria was busy at her usual station, her head bent over a particularly finicky piece of equipment. She hummed faintly under her breath, a tune Pixis recognized as one her father used to whistle when he worked.

"Valeria," Pixis called, his voice carrying the calm authority that always made her pause mid-action. She looked up. "Yes, Commander?"

He approached slowly, his expression unreadable but his tone casual. "I've been thinking."

Valeria raised an eyebrow, looking up at him and back at her work. She sensed that whatever came next would complicate her day. "That's never a good sign," she muttered, though her voice hinted at humor.

Pixis chuckled, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't be cheeky, girl. I've got an idea that could use your expertise."

Valeria straightened, wiping her hands on a rag before following him. "What sort of idea?"

He leaned against the edge of the workbench, his gaze thoughtful. "There's a branch meeting coming up—Garrison, Military Police, and Survey Corps all under one roof. It's a rare occurrence, but when it happens, we discuss strategies, resource allocation, and advancements that affect everyone. I'd like you to join me."

Valeria blinked, caught entirely off guard. "Me?" she repeated, incredulous. "Why would I need to attend a branch meeting? That's for commanders and... leaders. I'm just an engineer."

Pixis waved her protest away with a dismissive hand. "And a damn good one. Your work with ODM gear has proven invaluable to the Garrison and, by extension, the other branches. Imagine what we could achieve with direct feedback from the Survey Corps and the Military Police."

Valeria hesitated, her fingers tightening around the rag. "But I'm not—" She faltered, her voice quieter now. "I'm not someone who belongs in those kinds of meetings. I fix things. I'm not a leader."

Pixis tilted his head, studying her for a moment before responding. "You underestimate your value, Valeria. Leadership isn't always about commanding troops or making speeches. Sometimes, it's about having the courage to stand in a room full of people and say, 'This is what I've created, and this is how it can help.'"

Her gaze dropped to the floor. "What if they don't take me seriously? What if they think I'm wasting their time?"

Pixis smiled faintly, the kind of smile that carried warmth and a challenge. "Then you'll prove them wrong."

Valeria bit her lip, the weight of his words settling heavily on her. She thought of the soldiers who relied on the gear she maintained and the lives her modifications had saved. Slowly, she nodded, though uncertainty still lingered in her expression.

"Good," Pixis said, clapping her on the shoulder. "Now, get your best prototypes ready. We'll be leaving for Stohess District in a few days."

"Stohess?" she echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief. "That's halfway across the walls."

"All the better to spread your brilliance," Pixis replied with a grin. "Besides, it's about time you go out and see bigger things."

Chapter Text

The spacious chamber in the Stohess District Headquarters carried a sense of formality that made Valeria's steps falter as she entered. The walls, adorned with faded banners from the three military branches Survey Corps, Garrison, and Military Police stood as silent witnesses to their uneasy collaboration. A polished wooden table dominated the center of the room, illuminated by the warm glow of iron chandeliers overhead.

Valeria clutched the strap of her bag, which held blueprints and notes, her palms damp as she tried to keep her expression neutral. Pixis, walking ahead of her, cast a brief glance back and gave her an encouraging nod.

"You'll do fine," Pixis murmured, his voice low and reassuring. "Half of them are too proud to admit it, but they'll appreciate what you bring to the table." Valeria swallowed hard and nodded, stepping into the room behind him.

The commanders gathered around the table were as distinct as the banners hanging above them, each exuding a presence that filled the room in its own way. Valeria instinctively took stock of their personalities through the small cues they presented. Nile sat at the far end of the table, his posture stiff and his expression of barely concealed skepticism. His pristine uniform, pressed and perfect, reflected his meticulous nature. His eyes flicked toward Valeria as she entered, sharp and analytical, as though sizing her for some unseen test.

"So," Nile said, his tone clipped. "This is the Garrison's famed engineer?" His words carried no warmth, but neither were they entirely dismissive. Valeria straightened her back and met his gaze, determined not to shrink under his scrutiny.

"I'm here to contribute however I can," she replied evenly.

Nile arched a brow, tilting his head slightly as though weighing her response. "We'll see how much of a contribution that is."

Commander Erwin Smith - Survey Corps

Standing near a corner of the table, Erwin cut a striking figure, his presence calm but undeniably commanding. His sharp blue eyes met hers briefly, and while his expression remained unreadable, there was a faint nod of acknowledgment.

"Pixis has spoken highly of your work," Erwin said, calm and formal. "It's good to have you here."

Caught slightly off guard by the unexpected compliment, Valeria dipped her head, her tone measured, and replied, "Thank you, Commander."

"Erwin," he corrected gently, a faint but polite smile softening his expression. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Valeria," she responded with a nod, her voice steady though her heart raced slightly. Erwin's gaze lingered longer than she expected before he turned and gestured for her to sit near Pixis.

Pixis, by contrast, was as familiar as a favorite tool in her workshop. His relaxed demeanor and easy smile gave her a small measure of comfort as he clapped a hand lightly on her shoulder.

"Don't let them scare you," Pixis said with a chuckle, his flask gleaming faintly. "You've already impressed the hardest of them."

Valeria glanced at him with a faint smile. "If by 'hardest' you mean you, Commander, I'll take that as a compliment."

Pixis grinned. "I meant the tools in the shop. They're tougher than me."

Seated near the Survey Corps' side of the table, two other figures briefly caught Valeria's attention. One, a woman with wild brown and round glasses perched on her nose, who seemed absorbed in her notes. Valeria noted the emblem of the Survey Corps on her uniform but decided against engaging, uncertain of the woman's role. Beside her sat a man with dark hair and an almost unnervingly composed expression. His sharp gaze flicked toward Valeria briefly before returning to the map. Something about his presence made her hesitate to look too long.

Pixis leaned toward her and whispered, "Don't worry about them. Hanji's probably thinking about dissecting something, and Levi only speaks when necessary."

--

"This isn't just about reclaiming territory," Erwin said, his blue eyes scanning the room. "It's about understanding the larger picture—our place in the world and how we can adapt to ensure survival. We need strategies that will outlast any one battle."

Nile folded his arms, his lips pressing into a thin line. "And you're proposing to allocate resources we barely have for hypothetical gains?"

Erwin's gaze didn't falter. "Hypothetical gains often lead to tangible outcomes. Knowledge is as valuable as walls."

The room fell into a brief silence before Pixis chuckled. "It's hard to argue with a man who's thought ten steps ahead of you, isn't it?"

Pixis nudged Valeria gently. "This is where you come in."

She swallowed hard but stood, pulling a rolled blueprint from her bag. Her hands trembled slightly as she spread it across the table. "I've been working on modifications to improve efficiency in dense terrain," she began, her voice quieter than intended. "The new grappling mechanisms reduce gas usage by 15%, and the reinforced cables are designed to withstand more tension in uneven landscapes."

Erwin leaned forward, studying the blueprint with sharp interest. "This could be a game-changer for expeditions," he said thoughtfully. "Have these been field-tested?"

Valeria nodded. "Not extensively, but initial tests with the Garrison have shown promise."

"Shown promise" was not enough to convince everyone, and Nile’s frown deepened. "Unproven technology in the hands of soldiers is a risk we can't afford," he said. His words were sharp but not dismissive, as though he was testing her resolve.

Valeria’s voice steadied as she met his gaze. "Every advancement begins as unproven, Commander," she said, her tone measured. "But the risks have been calculated. The Garrison’s initial results indicate a significant improvement in efficiency and safety."

Erwin’s expression remained calm, but his slight nod encouraged her. "The question," he added, his tone firm, "is whether the potential outweighs the risk. In this case, I believe it does."

Valeria felt her cheeks warm as Erwin defended her work, but she focused on the blueprint, explaining the finer details with as much confidence as she could muster. She spoke of reinforced cable stress tests, reduced energy consumption in long-distance expeditions, and the durability improvements in uneven terrains. As she spoke, she noticed Erwin’s gaze linger on her work, not with skepticism, but with the sharp interest of someone already thinking ten steps ahead.

"Your father’s legacy seems to live on," Pixis remarked when she finished. "And perhaps even surpass it." The compliment was casual, but the weight of it settled deeply in Valeria’s chest.

Erwin’s voice broke the brief silence. "Valeria, I’d like to see a demonstration of these modifications. If they hold up under real conditions, they could be invaluable."

Valeria’s heart quickened, but she managed a steady nod. "Of course, Commander. I can arrange a field test at your earliest convenience."

"Good," Erwin said simply, the faintest trace of a smile touching his lips. "I look forward to it."

------

The meeting had concluded, leaving the air in the chamber heavy with unspoken tension and lingering debates. Valeria exited alongside Pixis, her blueprint-filled satchel weighing more than its physical burden. As the iron doors creaked shut behind them, the muffled sound of distant drills and footsteps filled the hallway.

Pixis glanced at her with a knowing smile. "You handled yourself well in there," he said, his tone carrying no trace of condescension, only genuine approval. "Even when Nile decided to test your mettle."

Valeria huffed lightly, adjusting the strap on her shoulder. "It’s hard to tell if he’s genuinely skeptical or if that’s just his way of… existing."

Pixis laughed, the sound echoing slightly in the narrow corridor. "A bit of both, I’d wager. But don’t let him bother you. He’s more bark than bite when it comes to progress. And you, my dear, are progress."

Her lips twitched upward in a small smile, though her grip on the satchel remained tight. "I just want the work to stand on its own," she said. "The modifications aren’t about convincing anyone—they’re about saving lives."

Pixis nodded, his expression thoughtful. "A sound philosophy. Your father would have said the same thing. But still, I’m curious what’s new since your last iteration?"

Valeria brightened slightly at the question, her hands relaxing their grip on the satchel. "The grappling mechanisms have been reinforced to prevent slippage on uneven surfaces, even in adverse weather conditions. I’ve also adjusted the gas pressure regulators to optimize output without compromising speed. Soldiers can cover more ground while using less gas."

Pixis’s eyes gleamed with interest. "Impressive. And the durability? Those cables always seem to take a beating."

"Exactly," Valeria said, nodding. "I replaced the core strands with a new alloy blend lighter, but with a higher tensile strength. Initial tests showed it could withstand 20% more stress before failure. It’s still experimental, but I’m confident it will hold up in the field."

Pixis stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You’ve thought of everything. And the soldiers? Are they adapting to these changes?"

Valeria hesitated briefly. "It’s a learning curve. The adjustments are subtle, but they require a bit more precision in handling. I’ve been working with the Garrison recruits to refine the design based on their feedback. It’s… rewarding, watching them master the improvements."

Pixis nodded approvingly. "That’s what sets you apart, Valeria. You don’t just build you listen. That’s a quality too many engineers forget in their pursuit of perfection."

They walked in silence for a moment before Valeria spoke again, her voice quieter. "I just want it to make a difference, Commander. My father always said that every invention should serve the people who use it. It’s more than just machines; it’s their lives."

Pixis stopped, turning to look at her with an expression of rare solemnity. "And that’s why you’ll succeed. Your father’s philosophy wasn’t just wise—it was necessary. You’ve taken it further than even he could have imagined."

Valeria’s cheeks flushed at the praise, but she offered a small, genuine smile. "Thank you, Commander. That means a lot."

Pixis resumed his unhurried pace, his tone lightening. "Now, about this gas optimization… would it be too bold to ask if you could make my flask refill itself while you’re at it?"

Valeria laughed, the sound breaking the lingering tension from the meeting. "If I could, Commander, I’d start by patenting it and retiring early."

Pixis chuckled, tipping the aforementioned flask toward her in mock toast. "Fair enough. Just make sure your modifications are ready to impress. Something tells me this demonstration of yours will be more than just a technical test."

As they continued down the corridor, Valeria’s focus sharpened. Her focus is about refining the gear that kept soldiers alive, about ensuring that no one else faced the failures her father once lamented. The faint weight of apprehension gave way to a burgeoning sense of purpose. Her steps grew steadier, her mind already turning to the final touches she would make to ensure her work spoke louder than any words could.

Chapter Text

The morning sun filtered through the narrow windows of the Garrison Headquarters, casting soft beams of light onto the workshop’s cluttered tables. Valeria’s workbench was as lively as ever, littered with gears, tools, and blueprints. She had barely taken a moment to rest since last night, her mind buzzing with the prospect of further refining her designs. However, the arrival of Commander Pixis broke her solitary focus.

"You know," Pixis began, leaning casually against the doorway, "the rest of the world exists outside this workshop. It wouldn’t hurt to step out once in a while."

Valeria looked up from a grappling mechanism she was fine-tuning, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I’ll step out when the world outside stops breaking everything I fix."

Pixis laughed, strolling in and surveying her workspace. "Fair enough, but I think today’s an exception. I have something for you."

Valeria raised an eyebrow, setting the mechanism down and wiping her hands on a cloth. "Something that can pull me away from my work? Must be important."

Pixis produced a letter from inside his coat, handing it to her with a flourish. The official seal of the Garrison Regiment was pressed into the wax, and Valeria’s curiosity deepened as she carefully broke it open.

"An invitation?" she murmured, scanning the text. Her eyes widened slightly as she read further. "To the training camp?"

Pixis nodded, clearly enjoying her reaction. "The recruits will be training with ODM gear all day tomorrow, and they’ve asked for a demonstration of your latest modifications."

Valeria blinked, a mix of excitement and nerves washing over her. "They want me to… show the recruits?"

"Not just the recruits," Pixis clarified. "The instructors, too. Word of your work has been spreading, and they’re eager to see it in action."

Her fingers tightened slightly around the letter. "I’ve used ODM gear before, but never in an official capacity. I… I don’t even know if I can still keep up with the demands of a live demonstration."

Pixis’s expression softened, his voice losing its usual teasing tone. "Valeria, you’ve spent years perfecting this equipment. Who better to showcase it than the person who understands it better than anyone else?"

She hesitated, her gaze drifting to the unfinished gear on her workbench. "I’ll need to make adjustments," she said finally. "If I’m going to do this, I’ll need to be absolutely certain everything works perfectly."

Pixis grinned, tipping his flask in her direction. "That’s the spirit. And who knows? Maybe this will be your chance to create something truly unique for yourself."

Valeria looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You’ve been building and improving gear for others," Pixis said. "But you’ve never made something specifically tailored to your own needs. You’ve got the skill and the knowledge. Why not use this opportunity to craft something personal?"

The idea struck Valeria with a strange kind of clarity. She’d spent so much time focusing on enhancing the standard ODM gear that she’d never considered what upgrades might suit her own abilities. It was an intriguing challenge—one she couldn’t ignore.

"I… I’ll think about it," she said, though the spark of inspiration in her eyes betrayed her growing interest.

Pixis straightened, clapping her lightly on the shoulder. "Good. You’ve got until tomorrow to prepare, but don’t forget to eat and sleep in between. A demonstration is no good if you’re too tired to stand."

Valeria chuckled softly. "I’ll keep that in mind."

As Pixis left the workshop, the letter still in her hand, Valeria turned her attention back to her workbench. The grappling mechanism she’d been tweaking suddenly seemed less daunting, its familiar components sparking new ideas. She could see it now—a modified set of gear designed not just for efficiency, but for adaptability, something uniquely hers.

Pulling out a fresh blueprint, she began sketching with quick, precise strokes. Her mind raced with possibilities, her confidence building with each new idea. By the time the sun had shifted higher in the sky, Valeria was fully engrossed, her initial hesitation replaced by a sense of purpose.

Tomorrow would be her chance to prove herself, not just as an engineer, but as someone who truly understood the balance between innovation and practicality. And perhaps, in the process, she’d discover what she was capable of when she dared to take her work into her own hands.

The crisp afternoon breeze carried the faint metallic hiss of ODM gear as recruits darted between the training grounds. From a nearby observation room overlooking the grounds, Commander Erwin Smith stood with his arms loosely crossed, his sharp blue eyes tracking the recruits’ movements. The faint murmur of chatter from the Military Police outside provided a rhythmic undercurrent to the scene.

Nile leaned against the doorframe with a rare air of ease. "It’s been a while since I’ve seen them this focused," he remarked casually, watching a recruit narrowly miss a target. "Perhaps they finally understand the stakes."

Erwin turned slightly, his expression neutral but attentive. "The improvements to the ODM gear have given them tools to push further. But understanding the stakes will take more than hardware."

Nile chuckled dryly, his arms folding. "Spoken like a commander with an endless supply of optimism."

Their conversation was interrupted by Keith Shadis, who entered the room with the heavy tread of someone long accustomed to command. "I trust you’ve both read the latest reports," he said without preamble, laying a folder on the table between them.

"I have," Erwin replied, stepping forward. "The enhanced grappling mechanisms and gas efficiency modifications are promising."

Nile’s expression remained skeptical. "Promising isn’t proven. We’ve seen upgrades before that worked well in theory but failed under pressure."

Keith’s gaze hardened, his voice sharp. "That’s why I’ve arranged for a field demonstration. The recruits will test the modifications during tomorrow’s drills, with the engineer herself providing oversight."

Nile raised an eyebrow. "Oversight? You trust a civilian to evaluate gear in a military setting?"

"She’s not a civilian," Keith countered. "She’s an official engineer, and she understands this equipment better than anyone. If you want results, you let the expert lead."

Erwin studied the folder’s contents briefly before looking up. "The modifications address specific weaknesses we’ve identified for years. If this demonstration is successful, we could reduce fatalities significantly."

Nile scoffed, though his tone lacked bite. "If it fails, it sets us back."

Keith’s voice carried an edge of finality. "Then we move forward. That’s the nature of this fight. We take risks to gain any advantage we can." He glanced at Erwin. "Both of you can keep an eye out to trusted scouts"

Erwin gave a single nod, his calm demeanor unchanged. "Understood."

Nile lingered, his gaze drifting back to the recruits. "Let’s hope the gear lives up to its reputation." With that, he turned and exited, leaving Keith and Erwin in a brief silence.

"He’ll come around," Keith muttered, shaking his head. "He always does."

Erwin’s gaze returned to the grounds below, where recruits continued their drills. "If the modifications perform as intended, the recruits will come away with more than improved tools. They’ll gain trust in their gear—and in the people who build it."

Chapter Text

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets as Valeria meticulously packed the last of her tools into a leather satchel. Her workshop, usually bustling with the hum of creation, felt eerily quiet. Every sound.. the clink of metal, the soft creak of wood amplified the stillness of her thoughts.

She paused, her fingers brushing against the edge of a grappling hook prototype. Her mind raced with details: tension calibrations, gas efficiency, alloy durability. It was all second nature to her, yet the thought of presenting her work in such a public, official capacity filled her with a mix of excitement and unease.

What if it fails? What if they think it’s not good enough? The doubts were unwelcome but persistent, weaving through her mind like threads of a tangled web. She exhaled sharply, pushing them aside.

A knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts. "Are you ready?" Pixis’s voice called from outside, carrying its usual air of casual confidence.

Valeria swung the door open, her satchel slung over her shoulder. "Yes sir" she replied, her voice steady despite the knot forming in her stomach.

Pixis eyed her with a wry smile, taking in the determined set of her jaw and the faint shadows under her eyes. "You didn’t sleep much, did you?"

She shrugged. "Well.. I had to make sure everything is spotless and clear."

He gestured for her to follow, and they began walking toward the waiting carriage. The streets were quiet at this early hour, the only sound the soft clip-clop of hooves in the distance. Pixis broke the silence first.

"You know, you’ve already done more than most engineers ever dream of," he said, his tone unusually sincere. "These modifications they're improvements even lifesavers!"

Valeria glanced at him, her brow furrowing. "It doesn’t feel like enough. Not yet. Every piece of equipment I work on… it’s someone’s lifeline out there. If even one component fails, it could cost a life."

Pixis nodded thoughtfully. "True. But perfection is a moving target. You’ve built something remarkable, something that gives those soldiers a better chance. That’s more than most can say."

She considered his words as they climbed into the carriage. The familiar creak of the wooden wheels against the road filled the space between them. Valeria stared out the window, watching the scenery shift from the stone walls of the district to the open fields leading toward the training grounds.

"Do you think they’ll trust it?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence. "The gear, I mean"

Pixis leaned back in his seat, his flask resting casually in his hand. "Trust takes time. But trust starts with seeing results. That’s what today is about. Show them what it can do, and let the gear speak for itself."

Valeria nodded, her grip tightening on the strap of her satchel. "I just hope everything pulls through"

They reached the training grounds as the first rays of sunlight began to peek over the horizon. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of earth and grass. Recruits were already gathering, their voices a low murmur of anticipation. Instructors moved among them, their sharp eyes scanning for signs of discipline.

Valeria stepped out of the carriage, her boots crunching against the gravel. She took in the sprawling expanse of the training area, her heart thudding in her chest. Pixis followed, clapping a hand lightly on her shoulder.

"Remember," he said, his voice low but firm. "You’re not here to prove anything to them. You’re here to show them what’s possible."

She met his gaze, drawing strength from the quiet confidence in his eyes. "Right," she said, more to herself than to him.

As they walked toward the central training platform, Valeria’s thoughts settled into a rhythm. The doubts were still there, but so was the resolve. This was her work, her vision. And today, it would finally be seen.

As they walked toward the central training platform, Valeria’s thoughts settled into a rhythm. Before she could fully ground herself in her resolve, a commanding voice broke through her concentration. "Ah, Valeria! Right on time," Keith called out, striding toward them with his usual air of authority.

Valeria straightened instinctively, her grip tightening on her satchel as Keith approached. "Commander Shadis," she greeted, her voice even.

"Let’s get to it," Keith said, nodding approvingly. "I’ve arranged for a practical demonstration with the recruits. We’ll run them through basic maneuvers first, then transition into a field simulation using the modifications you’ve been working on."

She nodded, her mind already ticking through the logistics. "Understood. I’ll oversee the equipment setup to ensure everything is calibrated correctly."

Keith crossed his arms, studying her with an appraising look. "You’ll do more than oversee. You’ll be running the demonstration alongside the instructors. The recruits need to see exactly how these modifications perform, and you’re the only one who truly understands their limits."

Valeria hesitated, glancing briefly at Pixis, who gave her an encouraging nod. "Yes, sir," she said finally, squaring her shoulders. "I’ll make sure they see what the gear is capable of."

Keith’s sharp gaze softened slightly. "Good. Show them why this gear matters. We’re giving these soldiers a fighting chance out there. And every improvement counts."

-----------------------------------------

The sharp clang of metal against wood echoed through the training grounds as Valeria fastened the last buckle on her modified ODM gear. The straps, worn yet sturdy, felt familiar a comforting weight against her shoulders. This was her father’s legacy, refined and reimagined through her own hands. She adjusted the goggles resting on her forehead, their tinted lenses reflecting the pale morning light. Around her, the recruits murmured among themselves, their voices a mix of excitement and skepticism. Some glanced her way, their curiosity plain, while others whispered behind their hands, unsure of what to expect from an engineer stepping into an instructor’s role. Valeria let out a steadying breath, her fingers brushing over the polished metal of the grappling hooks. It was time. Keith Shadis stepped forward, his booming voice cutting through the chatter. “Listen up, recruits! Today, you’ll witness what true innovation looks like.” His gaze swept over the gathered soldiers, pausing on those who dared to slouch. “This isn’t just about mastering your gear—it’s about pushing boundaries. And no one understands that better than Valeria.” He gestured toward her, and every eye turned in her direction. Valeria straightened, squaring her shoulders as she stepped forward. The murmur of voices quieted, replaced by the soft rustle of uniforms. “Valeria is no stranger to the field,” Keith continued, his tone firm. “She’s worked tirelessly to improve the very gear you’re wearing. Today, she’ll not only demonstrate her modifications but also teach you how to make the most of them. Pay attention—you might learn something.” Keith’s sharp tone left no room for doubt. The recruits snapped to attention, their focus locked on Valeria. She met their gazes, the weight of expectation pressing against her chest. She didn’t falter. “Thank you, Commander Shadis,” Valeria began, her voice steady. “These modifications are designed to enhance your mobility and precision. I’ll demonstrate a few maneuvers first, and then you’ll have the chance to test them yourselves.”

She turned toward the field, the open expanse stretching out before her like a stage. The wind tugged at her hair as she activated the gear with a sharp hiss of gas. The world narrowed to the pull of tension, the hum of motion, and the rhythmic release of the hooks.

With a practiced flick of her wrist, she activated the ODM gear. A sharp hiss of compressed gas erupted, and the familiar hum of tension coursed through the lines. The first grapple fired with precision, the steel hook embedding itself into the edge of a distant training pillar. Without hesitation, Valeria leaned forward, her boots lifting off the ground as the gear pulled her skyward with a smooth, almost effortless motion.
The recruits gasped as she soared into the air, her movements a blend of raw power and elegant control. At the peak of her ascent, Valeria twisted her torso, her arms outstretched as if she were carving through the wind itself. With a quick release, the first grapple disengaged, and she fired the second mid-spin, the new anchor point catching seamlessly. The transition was flawless, her momentum uninterrupted as she veered sharply to the left, dodging an imaginary obstacle. Her body moved with an almost musical rhythm, each shift of weight perfectly timed to the hiss and clink of the gear. She rolled midair, tucking her knees close before unfurling into a long, graceful arc. The sunlight glinted off her goggles as she flipped forward, narrowly skimming the surface of a platform below before launching upward again. Her timing was impeccable, every movement calibrated to take full advantage of the enhanced precision and speed her modifications allowed.

The recruits stood frozen, their eyes wide and mouths slightly agape. Even the instructors, veterans who had seen countless demonstrations, exchanged glances of genuine surprise. Valeria’s mastery of the gear was undeniable—not just a display of skill but a dance of confidence and ingenuity. The air around her seemed alive, charged with the energy of her motions. She approached the final stretch of the course, where two close pillars required split-second adjustments. Valeria didn’t hesitate. Her grapples fired in quick succession, the lines crisscrossing as she spun between the narrow gaps. The recruits held their breath, expecting her to falter—but instead, she emerged unscathed, landing softly on a beam with a cat-like grace. For the finale, Valeria pushed her modifications to their limit. She fired both grapples simultaneously, anchoring to points on either side of the field. Using the tension to propel herself upward, she released both hooks at once, flipping through the air in a controlled somersault before landing firmly on the ground in a crouch. The metallic clang of her boots against the earth echoed across the field. A moment of stunned silence followed. Then, one of the younger recruits whispered, “Did you see that?” Another recruit nodded mutely, their expression awestruck. The murmurs spread quickly, a ripple of admiration and disbelief. Valeria straightened, brushing dust from her gloves as she glanced toward the gathered recruits. Her gaze was steady, though a faint flush colored her cheeks. “Now,” she said, her voice clear and unwavering, “it’s your turn.”

As she stepped aside, the recruits’ murmurs grew louder, a mixture of excitement and nervousness. They had seen something extraordinary, and though the challenge ahead seemed daunting, they couldn’t help but feel inspired. For a moment, Valeria stood as more than was someone they could aspire to emulate.

---- ------ ----- -----

Nile stood with his arms crossed, eyes narrowing as the recruits adjusted their ODM gear under Valeria’s guidance. The sharp hiss of compressed gas echoed from the field as the first recruit tested a modified grappling hook. The line zipped out startlingly, latching onto a beam with a satisfying clang.

Hanji’s eyes gleamed behind her glasses, leaning forward slightly. “Theres barely any recoil! These modifications could change the way we maneuver in close quarters.”

Levi tilted his head, watching another recruit fire a hook toward a higher beam. The line reeled them up faster than expected, their boots barely brushing the ground before they swung into a controlled arc. “Efficient,” he remarked quietly. “No wasted motion. They’re cutting travel time in half.”

Nile remained skeptical, though his gaze lingered on the recruits as they moved through the course. “It’s one thing to make it look good here,” he said, his tone clipped. “Let’s see how it holds up under real pressure. Speed doesn’t mean much if it fails when needed most.”

Hanji smirked. “Oh, come on, Nile. Look at the grip strength on those hooks. Did you see how tight it was on the beams? That’s not failing anytime soon!”

Erwin’s gaze remained steady on the field, his expression thoughtful. “It’s not just about speed or grip,” he said after a moment. “The gas efficiency is what stands out. They’re able to maneuver more without depleting their reserves. That could mean surviving longer in a fight.”

The group fell silent as one of the recruits attempted an advanced maneuver Valeria had demonstrated earlier. The modified gear allowed a sharper turn, the recruit spinning midair precisely before landing smoothly on a narrow beam. The instructors on the field exchanged surprised glances, their earlier skepticism giving way to approval.

The recruits moved through the training course, their confidence growing with each maneuver. The clang of grappling hooks echoed across the grounds, accompanied by the occasional cheer as one executed a particularly sharp turn or precise landing. Valeria stood on the central platform, her gaze sharp and focused as she monitored their progress. Occasionally, she stepped in, calling out instructions or adjusting a recruit's stance.

The air was charged with energy part excitement, part tension. Even the instructors, seasoned as they were, seemed drawn in by the spectacle.
From the sidelines, the commanders observed in silence, their expressions ranging from curiosity to cautious approval. As the recruits completed the final leg of the course, Valeria signaled for them to gather at the platform's base.

"Good work, everyone!" she began, her voice carrying clearly across the field. "You've seen what the modifications can do. Now, it's time to focus on precision. Remember, speed is nothing without control."
Her words were met with nods and murmurs of agreement. She continued, demonstrating the mechanics of a key move, a rapid midair pivot designed for evading titans or navigating tight spaces. "The new gas flow system allows for sharper turns but requires timing and practice. Watch closely."
Activating her ODM gear, Valeria launched herself into the air. Her body twisted effortlessly mid-flight, the modified hooks firing in quick succession. The movement was almost too fast to follow, her trajectory snapping sharply before she landed lightly on a narrow beam. The recruits erupted into scattered applause, their earlier apprehension replaced with admiration.

From their vantage point, Hanji leaned forward, practically vibrating with excitement. "Did you see that? The pivot was flawless. No drag, no overcorrection—just pure precision."

Nile remained silent, though his tightened jaw betrayed his thoughts. His skepticism was clearly wavering as he watched another recruit attempt the maneuver, their execution rough but promising.

Erwin's gaze didn't leave the field. "She's teaching them trust in the gear and their abilities."

Hanji grinned, nudging Nile lightly. "I'd say that's a win, wouldn't you?"
Nile didn't respond, but his silence spoke volumes.
Back on the field, Valeria dismounted gracefully, addressing the recruits once more. "This gear is only as good as the person using it. Practice. Learn. And don't be afraid to push your limits."
The recruits nodded, their determination evident. Valeria stepped back, allowing the instructors to take over as they guided the recruits through the next training phase.
Pixis approached from the edge of the field, his expression one of quiet pride. "Well done," he said simply, his voice carrying the approval weight. "I expected nothing less."

Valeria exhaled, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, Commander."
She gathered her gear as the recruits returned to their drills, her focus momentarily shifting inward. Though successful, the weight of the demonstration left her with a lingering question—had it been enough?
Would the modifications genuinely make the difference she envisioned?

Before she could dwell too deeply, Erwin approached, his steps measured and deliberate. He stopped a few paces from her, his presence commanding but not imposing. "You handled that well," he said, his tone neutral but carrying a trace of something warmer. "The recruits responded to you."

She glanced up, meeting his gaze briefly. "Thank you, Commander. I just hope it translates when it matters." "It will," Erwin replied simply, his blue eyes steady. "But innovation always comes with risk. What you've done here—what you're doing—is a step forward. That's not something to take lightly."
His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Valeria nodded, her grip tightening on the strap of her gear. "I'll keep that in mind." As Erwin turned to rejoin the other commanders, Valeria couldn't help but feel a spark of pride mixed with resolve. This was only the beginning. And there was still so much more to prove.

Chapter Text

The glow of the setting sun filtered through the narrow windows of Valeria’s workspace, casting long shadows across the array of tools and ODM gear components scattered on the workbenches. The faint scent of oil and metal lingered in the air as Valeria adjusted the tension on a grappling hook. Her hands moved automatically, the familiar rhythm of maintenance grounding her after the day’s events. The echo of boots approaching broke her concentration. She glanced up as the door creaked open, revealing Commander Pixis. His stern expression softened slightly as he stepped into the room, his hands clasped behind his back. “I figured I’d find you here,” Pixis said, his gravelly voice filling the space. “You always seem to work harder after proving you’re already the best at your work.” Valeria offered a faint smile but didn’t stop her adjustments. “There’s always room for improvement. The demonstration went well, but I noticed a slight delay in the grappling hooks’ retraction speed. It could be dangerous in the field.” Pixis walked closer, studying her movements. “You’re always looking for problems to fix, Valeria. That’s a good quality—up to a point.” She set the tool down and looked up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He exhaled, leaning against a nearby workbench. “It means you’re already doing more than enough. I see how the soldiers look at you—like you’re some kind of miracle worker. But even miracles need rest. You can’t carry all of this alone.”
Valeria sighed, crossing her arms. “It’s not about carrying it alone. It’s about ensuring what I create doesn’t fail when needed most. If even one part of the gear malfunctions, someone could die. How do I justify taking a break when there’s so much at stake?”

Pixis studied her for a moment before responding. “You justify it by understanding that your work is making a difference. The demonstration earlier wasn’t just about showing what’s possible—it’s proof that you’re pushing the boundaries. But you’re only one person. Testing, refining, and improving takes time. Give yourself that time.” Valeria’s gaze dropped to the grappling hook in her hands. “I just… I want it to be better. Stronger. Safer.” “And it will be,” Keith said firmly. “But not if you push yourself past your limit. Perfection doesn’t come overnight. Take this as a step forward, not the end goal. Others will see the value in what you’ve done already.”
She hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted quietly. Pixis straightened, his stern demeanor returning. “I know I’m right. But for now, get some air. This room’s starting to feel like a prison.”

A small laugh escaped her. “You’re not wrong about that.”

Pixis turned to leave but paused at the door. “Your work matters, Valeria. Just make sure you’re here to keep doing it.” With that, he exited, his boots echoing down the hall. Valeria sat in the quiet that followed, her hands resting on the table. Pixis’s words lingered in her mind, a mix of reassurance and challenge. She glanced at the unfinished gear and then at the door, where the last rays of sunlight spilled in. With a deep breath, she stood, grabbed her jacket, and stepped outside.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The workshop smelled of sawdust and machine oil, a mix that Valeria had grown to associate with her father’s steady presence. She was young then, no more than thirteen, her hands smaller and unsure as they hovered over the array of tools on the workbench. Her father, a tall man with weathered hands and a kind but stern demeanor, stood beside her, watching closely.

“The first thing you need to understand,” he said, deep and deliberate, “is that every tool has a purpose. Knowing what and when to use it can mean the difference between success and disaster.”
Valeria nodded, her brow furrowing in concentration. “But what if I use the wrong tool?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity and apprehension.
Her father chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “Then you learn. Mistakes are part of the process, Val. The important thing is to pay attention, understand why it didn’t work, and try again. That’s how you get better.”

He picked up a wrench, turning it over before handing it to her. “Here, let’s start simple. Tighten that bolt over there.”
Valeria took the wrench, her fingers wrapping around the cool metal. She moved to the machine he pointed to—a small generator he had been repairing—and knelt beside it. The bolt seemed easy enough, but it slipped as she turned the wrench. Her hand jerked, and the tool clattered to the floor.

“I… I’m sorry,” she said quickly, reaching to retrieve the wrench.
Her father crouched beside her, his presence grounding. “No need to apologize. Let’s take a look.” He guided her hands gently, showing her how to adjust the angle and grip. “See? It’s not about strength—it’s about control. Try again.”

This time, Valeria tightened the bolt with ease. She looked up at her father, her eyes wide with pride and excitement. “I did it!”
He smiled, his expression filled with quiet pride. “You did. And you’ll keep doing it. But remember, this is just the start. Being an apprentice means being patient, listening, and learning from everything around you.”
Valeria tilted her head, her curiosity sparking another question. “How did you learn all this?”

Her father’s gaze grew distant momentarily, a hint of melancholy in his eyes. “A lot of trial and error and a few good mentors. One day, you’ll teach someone, too. That’s how it works.” She grinned, passing on knowledge, feeling both far away and excited. “Maybe I’ll teach you something one day, too.”

Her father laughed, the sound echoing warmly in the workshop. “You just might, Val. You just might.” That night, as the lamps burned low and the tools were neatly stowed away, Valeria sat beside her father on the workshop’s stoop, looking up at the stars. She felt a quiet sense of belonging from shared effort and the promise of what lay ahead. Even then, she knew the workshop was more than a place to fix things. It was where she’d learn to build—and rebuild—herself.

-----------------------------------

Her thoughts still lingering on the adjustments she had made earlier. The demonstration had gone well, but doubts tugged at her mind, whispering questions about whether her work would make a difference. She let out a slow breath, her eyes lifting to the sky, where the stars shone brightly against the inky blackness.

The sound of steady, deliberate footsteps broke her reverie. She turned, catching sight of Erwin Smith approaching from the path that led past the workshop. His tall frame was illuminated by the faint glow of a lantern nearby, his expression calm but unreadable. He stopped a few paces away, nodding in acknowledgment. "Valeria, isn't it?"

She straightened slightly, brushing her hands against her uniform. "Commander," she replied, her tone respectful but cautious. "I didn't expect to see you here." Erwin's gaze shifted briefly to the workshop door behind her before returning to her. "I'd heard about the demonstration earlier today. I thought it worth seeing the person behind the modifications."

Valeria's brows raised slightly in surprise. "You were watching?"
He nodded slightly, his gaze steady. "Yes! Your demonstration was impressive—a fine balance of precision and practicality. It's clear you've put thought into every detail."

She hesitated, unsure how to respond. Praise from someone who stood by Erwin was unexpected. "Thank you, Commander. I just… wanted to ensure the recruits understood what the gear can do. It's nothing groundbreaking, really."

Erwin's lips curved into a faint smile, his tone steady. "Your humility is commendable, but don't sell yourself short. Few manage to combine practicality and innovation the way you have."

Valeria looked away briefly, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "I've just been trying to refine what already exists. The work isn't perfect."
"No work ever is," Erwin replied. "But perfection isn't the goal. Progress is. And from what I've seen, you've achieved that." She glanced back at him, her expression softening slightly. "Thank you, Commander. That means a lot.". He nodded, his gaze shifting to the stars above them. "Do you often work this late?"

Valeria followed his gaze, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. "Most nights. The workshop… it's where I'm comfortable. There's always something to improve, something to fix."

"A useful mindset," Erwin said, his tone contemplative. "But even the most dedicated need rest. Overwork dulls the mind and the hands."
She smiled faintly, a touch of humor slipping into her voice. "I'll keep that in mind, Commander."

Silence settled between them for a moment, the quiet night punctuated only by the distant rustle of leaves. Finally, Erwin inclined his head. "I won't keep you any longer, but I'll say this your work is noticed, and it's appreciated. Keep at it, Valeria. The difference you make may be greater than you realize."

She felt a warmth in his words that dispelled some of her lingering doubts. "Goodnight, Commander," she said softly. "Goodnight, maybe we'll see each other soon," he replied, turning and continuing down the path, his figure fading into the shadows. Valeria lingered a moment longer, the stars above seeming brighter than before. With a deep breath, she turned back to the workshop, the faintest trace of a smile on her lips.

Chapter Text

Keith stood in the quiet corner of the equipment room, a single modified ODM gear unit laid before him on a sturdy wooden table. The faint clink of metal echoed as he turned the grappling mechanism over in his hands, his keen eyes scanning every detail. The modifications were subtle but precise—a lighter frame, reinforced lines, and an adjustment to the gas canister valve that promised more significant efficiency.

Nile entered the room, his sharp gaze immediately falling on the setup. “Testing out the upgrades?” he asked, his tone neutral but curious.
Keith glanced up briefly, his expression neutral. “Observing,” he said simply, repeatedly turning the grappling hook over. “The mechanics are solid. Better than anything I’ve seen come out of the Garrison in a while.”
Nile stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back. “Impressive work, no doubt. But let’s not forget the cost of rolling these out. Retrofitting every set of gear won’t be cheap or quick.”

Keith grunted, setting the grappling mechanism down and tapping the reinforced gas line with a calloused finger. “You’re too focused on the logistics, Nile. This gear could mean the difference between life and death for a soldier. Faster retraction speeds, higher fuel efficiency… it’s not just impressive, it’s necessary.” Nile’s gaze didn’t waver. “Necessary, yes. But is it sustainable? Valeria’s good, I’ll give her that. But she’s one person. You saw the demonstration. The recruits looked at her like she was the answer to every problem they’d ever had. That kind of expectation can wear down even the best.”

He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table. “You underestimate her work. We must decide how to support her work so it doesn’t become a bottleneck.” Nile raised a brow, his tone softening slightly. “And if it does? What then? I don’t think we need to rely on her work too often; we didn’t before, and we don’t need to now, especially considering expeditions.”

Keith straightened, folding his arms across his chest. “We make sure it doesn’t get to that point. Start small. Field test a handful of these modified units. Let her focus on refining the design while we figure out how to scale it.”

Nile considered this for a moment before nodding. “Fair enough. But she’ll need more resources. And probably more hands to help. If we’re serious about this, we can’t keep her in the shadows as an apprentice. She’ll need a team.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “She’s earned that much. We’ll see if the higher-ups agree.” The room fell into contemplative silence, the faint hum of distant activity filtering through the walls. His gaze returned to the gear on the table, his thoughts lingering on its potential. Nile stepped back toward the door, pausing only briefly. His hand rested on the modified ODM gear, his expression unreadable. “Let's hope she'll be ready,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The room was quiet save for the occasional rustle of papers and the steady tap of Commander Pixis’s fingers against the polished wood of the table. The branch leaders of the military—Erwin, Nile, Keith, and Pixis—had gathered to discuss Valeria’s recent demonstration and the implications of her work. The atmosphere was tense, a mix of optimism, skepticism, and practicality hanging over the table like a storm cloud.
Erwin broke the silence first, his calm and measured voice carrying a note of conviction. “Valeria’s demonstration was a clear success. The modifications she’s made to the ODM gear aren’t just improvements—they’re innovations that could reshape how we operate in the field. Her work deserves broader implementation.”

Nile leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression skeptical. “Broad implementation? That’s a bold claim, Erwin. Let’s not forget that her work hasn’t been tested in real combat scenarios. A controlled demonstration is one thing; a battle against Titans is another. We can’t afford to gamble on unproven technology.”
Keith’s voice cut in, steady and thoughtful. “True, but the recruits need to trust the tools they’re given. Valeria’s modifications are solid, but trust isn’t just about the mechanics. It’s about the person behind them. If she’s going to play a bigger role, she needs to step out of that workshop and prove herself to the recruits.”

Pixis’s brow furrowed, his fingers pausing their rhythmic tap. “And at what cost, Keith? Valeria is a cornerstone for the Garrison. Her work keeps our soldiers alive and our gear operational. You suggest we take her out of her element and risk losing one of our most valuable members?”
Erwin leaned forward slightly, his tone unwavering. “No one is suggesting abandoning her work. But her potential isn’t fully realized if confined to the Garrison. If Valeria steps into a more active role, it could benefit all branches. She has the technical expertise—now she needs to build the confidence and trust of those who use her innovations.”

Pixis’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re asking me to gamble with one of my best engineers. That’s not a decision I take lightly, Erwin.”
“It doesn’t have to be a gamble,” Erwin countered. “We’ll ease her into it. Hanji and Levi can assist. Hanji’s enthusiasm will encourage her to engage with others, and Levi’s combat expertise can help refine her maneuverability skills. Together, they’ll ensure she’s supported while she develops her strengths outside the workshop.”

Nile raised an eyebrow. “You make it sound simple, but what if the gear no longer works? We have other trained engineers, but I don’t think it would be enough to continue with all the expeditions.”

Keith shrugged. “She’s already proven she can handle pressure in her own way. Recruits aren’t just going to trust her because of what they’ve heard. They need to see her skills in action, and she needs to see the impact her work has on the field.”

Pixis sighed, his gaze sweeping across the table. “And what about the Garrison? If she’s focusing on building her skills and presence elsewhere, her workload here will suffer. Are we prepared to risk that?”
Erwin’s tone softened slightly, and his words showed a hint of reassurance. “We’re not asking her to abandon the Garrison. This is about balance. Her contributions will remain vital, but broadening her role could strengthen her impact and connection to the soldiers who rely on her work.” Pixis leaned back, his hand running over his bald head. “You’ve clearly thought this through, Erwin. I’m still unconvinced, but I’ll agree to a trial period. Hanji and Levi will oversee her progress and report back. If I see any sign that this compromises her work for the Garrison, we’ll reassess immediately.”

Erwin nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “That’s all I ask. She deserves the chance to grow, and I believe she’ll rise to the occasion.” Nile gave a noncommittal shrug, clearly skeptical but willing to let the plan proceed. “We’ll see if she’s up for it. Let’s just hope this doesn’t backfire on us.”

As the meeting concluded, the leaders dispersed, each lost in their thoughts. Erwin lingered for a moment, his gaze steady and contemplative. He knew the path ahead wouldn’t be easy for Valeria, but he believed in her potential. And with the proper support, she might just surprise them all.

Chapter Text

The clatter of tools had long subsided, leaving only the faint hum of the wind outside the walls of Valeria’s workspace. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single oil lamp casting flickering shadows across the neatly arranged tools and the unfinished ODM gear on the bench. She traced the edge of a grappling mechanism with her fingers, replaying the day's events. The recruits’ tentative questions and hesitant repair attempts lingered in her mind. One, in particular, stood out—a young soldier struggling to secure a gas valve until she’d guided his hands, showing him the precise motion needed. His relief and gratitude had stirred something unfamiliar within her: the quiet realization that she could make a difference beyond the confines of her workshop.

Her thoughts wandered further, replaying the recruit’s words after he succeeded. “Thank you, ma’am. I thought I’d never get it right.” His smile had been small but genuine and stayed with her throughout the day. Valeria’s lips curled into a faint smile, though her fingers still fidgeted with the tool in her hands. Was she really capable of teaching others? She had spent so much of her time immersed in work—fixing, designing, and refining—that the idea of stepping into a more visible role felt foreign and unsettling.

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her reverie. She looked up just as Commander Pixis entered, his familiar gait steady and deliberate. His presence filled the room, and Valeria instinctively straightened, smoothing her apron.

“Commander Pixis,” she greeted. “I didn’t expect you this late.”
Pixis offered a small smile, his hands clasped behind his back. “Neither did I expect to find you still working. But then again, I should know better by now.” His eyes scanned the bench before meeting hers. “Sit, Valeria. We need to talk.”

She hesitated her pulse quickening, but obeyed, perching on the edge of her stool as Pixis pulled over a chair and sat across from her. His expression softened, and for a moment, he looked less like her Commander and more like the father figure she had always viewed him as.

“You’ve come far since your first days in the Garrison,” he began his tone warm but laced with seriousness. “Your work is meticulous, your dedication unmatched. It’s time for you to take the next step.”
Valeria’s brow furrowed. “The next step?” Pixis nodded. “Starting next week, I want you to visit the training camps regularly. Teach the recruits the mechanics of ODM gear and how to trust it—and themselves. They need someone who’s lived and breathed this work to guide them.”

Her heart sank, her gaze falling to her hands. “Commander, I… I’m not sure I’m the right person for that. I’m better with tools than with people.”
Pixis leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That’s precisely why you’re the right person. The recruits trust you because they see your dedication. You’ve already begun to lead by example—whether you realize it or not.”

Valeria opened her mouth to protest but stopped at the sound of new footsteps. Both turned as Commander Erwin Smith entered the workshop, his tall frame illuminated by the lamp's soft glow. His sharp blue eyes surveyed the room before settling on Valeria.

“Commander Smith,” Pixis greeted, rising to his feet. “You’re early.”
Erwin nodded, his gaze unwavering. “I wanted to speak with her directly.”
Pixis glanced between them, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Very well. I’ll leave her in your capable hands.” As he passed Valeria, he rested a hand lightly on her shoulder. “Listen to what he has to say. Smith has a good eye for talent.”

With that, Pixis departed, leaving Valeria alone with Erwin. She felt the air shift, and the room suddenly became heavier with his presence. Erwin stepped closer, his movements deliberate, before stopping a respectful distance away.

“I reviewed your work today,” he began, his voice calm but inquisitive. “The modifications you’ve been developing... the recruits were engaging with the gear in a way that went beyond repair. That kind of ingenuity is rare.”

Valeria blinked, caught off guard by his observation. “I… I just try to find ways to improve what’s already there, Commander.”

Erwin’s gaze dropped briefly to her hands, still smudged with grease from the day’s work. A flicker of something crossed his face—admiration, perhaps—before his expression returned to its usual composure. “That mindset is precisely why your contributions stand out.” She lowered her gaze, her fingers curling into her apron. “I don't think sure I’m ready for something like this. Innovating is one thing, but applying it strategically… that’s something else entirely.”

Erwin’s voice softened, though it remained steady. “No one is ever truly ready. But you have the skill and, more importantly, the respect of those around you. That’s something even the best leaders struggle to earn.”
He stepped closer, the space between them narrowing slightly. Valeria felt her breath catch, unsure if his words or his unwavering gaze unsettled her. His presence was commanding yet oddly reassuring like the weight of his belief in her was tangible.

“Take it one step at a time,” Erwin added, sensing her hesitation. “You don’t have to change overnight. Just focus on what you do best, and the rest will follow.”

She looked up at him, her uncertainty meeting his steady confidence. “I… I’ll do my best, Commander.” A faint smile touched his lips, barely perceptible. “That’s all anyone can ask.” He lingered for a moment, his gaze holding hers, before stepping back. At the doorway, he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Commander Hanji has requested a meeting with you tomorrow. She mentioned something about integrating your work into her upcoming experiments.”

When he was gone, the room felt quieter than before. Valeria sank back onto her stool, her mind a mix of doubt and determination. She returned to the grappling mechanism, her hands steadying as she picked up her tools. If Pixis’s faith had planted the seed, Erwin’s words had nurtured it. Now, it was up to her to see what it would grow into.

The following morning, Valeria stood outside Commander Hanji’s laboratory, a small, unassuming structure near the Garrison headquarters' edge. The faint hum of activity inside—metal clinking, the muffled gas rush—hinted at the chaos within. She hesitated momentarily, her hand hovering just above the door handle, before steeling herself and stepping inside.

The first thing that hit her was the scent: a peculiar mixture of oil, iron, and something faintly acrid. The room was cluttered but meticulously organized in its own way. Tools of various shapes and sizes were scattered across several workbenches, and a series of strange devices—half-finished and blinking with small, erratic lights—lined the shelves. At the center of it all was Hanji Zoe, hunched over a mechanical contraption that emitted a faint whirring noise. Her lab coat flared as she shifted, adjusting something with an intense focus that made her oblivious to Valeria’s arrival.

“Commander Hanji?” Valeria called out tentatively.
Hanji’s head snapped up, her glasses catching the light as a wide grin spread across her face. “Ah, Valeria! Just the person I wanted to see. Come in, come in!”

Valeria stepped further into the room, her eyes darting to the strange contraption on Hanji’s workbench. It resembled a modified ODM gear harness, but with additional attachments that she couldn’t immediately identify.

“You’ve been busy,” Valeria said, her voice soft but intrigued.
“Busy doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Hanji replied, waving a hand dramatically. “This little marvel here is the start of something revolutionary. Imagine an ODM gear capable of maneuvering and capturing precise samples mid-flight! Tissue, fluid, even minuscule fragments—all without endangering the user. But...” Hanji’s voice trailed off, and her grin faded slightly as she tapped the device with a wrench. “It’s not quite ready yet. The mechanisms jam under rapid movement, and the sample compartment isn’t as secure as I’d like.”

Valeria’s brow furrowed as she stepped closer, her hands instinctively reaching out to examine the device. “Have you tried adjusting the alignment of the extraction claws? If they’re slightly off, it could be causing the jamming.”

Hanji’s eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands together. “Exactly why I wanted you here! Your eye for these details is unparalleled.”
Valeria picked up a nearby tool and began testing the mechanism’s mobility. The soft click of metal and the steady scrape of adjustments filled the room as she worked. Hanji leaned against the workbench, watching her with an expression equal to curiosity and admiration.
“You know, Valeria,” Hanji began her tone more measured, “you’ve made quite the impression. Keith... Nile... Erwin... they’ve both sung your praises. You think differently, strategically. That’s something this regiment needs more of.”

Valeria paused, her hands stilling over the device. The words felt heavy, almost too much to process all at once. “I’m just doing what I know how to do,” she said quietly. “It’s not... anything special.”
Hanji tilted her head, her grin returning but softer this time. “You’re wrong about that. But I get it—you’re not ready to see it yet. That’s fine. We’ll start small.” She gestured to the device. “Help me perfect this, and we’ll call it phase one. Deal?”

Valeria glanced up, meeting Hanji’s gaze. There was something disarming about the Commander’s enthusiasm. This contagious energy made the prospect of working with her less daunting. Finally, she nodded. “Deal.”
Hanji’s grin widened. “Excellent! Now, let’s get to work. I’ll need your insight on reinforcing the compartment’s seal. It’s proving... temperamental.”

The hours passed in a blur of sketches, adjustments, and occasional bursts of laughter as Hanji’s exuberance clashed with Valeria’s quiet precision. At one point, Hanji grabbed a piece of chalk and began sketching diagrams directly onto the workbench’s surface, much to Valeria’s quiet amusement. The contraption slowly transformed under their combined efforts, its movements becoming smoother and its components sturdier.

“You know,” Hanji mused as Valeria tightened a final bolt, “I’ve always believed that the best inventions come from collaboration. Two minds, different strengths, working toward a common goal. You and I... we might make a dangerous pair.”

Valeria glanced up, arching a brow. “Dangerous?” Hanji laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained. “In the best possible way, of course! Innovation doesn’t come from playing it safe.” The project was significantly improved when they called it a night. Hanji gave it a triumphant spin, watching the claws retract and deploy flawlessly. “Beautiful work,” she said, turning to Valeria. “You’ve got a knack for this, you know.” Valeria offered a small, shy smile. “Thank you, Commander. For trusting me.”

“Always,” Hanji replied, her tone light but sincere. “And this is just the beginning. There are so many more projects I’d like to rope you into... but for now, let’s get some rest.”

-----

As Valeria stepped back into the laboratory the next morning, she was greeted by the familiar hum of machinery and the faint clink of metal. The device they had worked on the previous night was still on the workbench, its upgraded mechanisms gleaming under the light streaming through the window. Hanji was already bustling about, sketching frantically on a large piece of parchment pinned to the wall.

“Good, you’re here!” Hanji exclaimed without looking up. “I’ve been thinking about how we could integrate a secondary stabilization system into the ODM gear. Something lightweight but strong enough to withstand turbulence.”

Valeria set down her bag of tools, her brow furrowing as she moved closer to study Hanji’s sketches. “If you’re adding stabilization, you might need to recalibrate the central axis to avoid overcompensating. Otherwise, it could throw off the user’s balance.”

Hanji’s eyes lit up. “Exactly! That’s why I need you here, Valeria. You think through the practical implications while I dream up the chaos.” The door creaked open, and a new presence entered the room. Levi stepped inside, his sharp gaze immediately taking in the cluttered workspace and the two women at the center of it. His expression was neutral, though his eyes lingered briefly on the modified ODM gear.

“Hanji,” he said in his usual monotone. “I’m not here to babysit your experiments. What’s so important that you needed me to come?”

Hanji turned with a grin, waving him over. “Levi! Perfect timing. I want you to meet Valeria. She’s the genius behind these modifications.”

Valeria straightened instinctively under Levi’s scrutinizing gaze. She extended a hand, her voice steady despite her nerves. “It’s nice to meet you, Captain Levi.”

Levi’s eyes flicked to her hand for a moment before he shook it briefly. “You’re the one Pixis and Erwin have been talking about.”

“I’m doing my best to make things a little easier for everyone,” Valeria replied, her voice steady but her fingers nervously brushing against the fabric of her sleeve.

“Your part seems to involve a lot of reinventing the wheel,” Levi said, his tone neither approving nor dismissive. “I'd like to see how it holds up in the field.”

Hanji clapped her hands, breaking the tension. “Oh, it will! In fact, that’s why I asked you here, Levi. I want you to test it.”

Levi raised a brow. “You want me to be your guinea pig?”
“More like the ultimate quality control,” Hanji corrected with a grin. “If it can survive you, it can survive anything.”

Valeria’s lips twitched in a small smile despite herself. “The modifications are designed to improve maneuverability and efficiency. But feedback from someone with your experience would be invaluable.”

Levi crossed his arms, his gaze shifting back to the ODM gear. After a moment, he gave a curt nod. “Fine. I’ll test it. But if it malfunctions, I’m bringing it straight back here.”
“Deal,” Valeria said, surprising even herself with the confidence in her voice.

Hanji beamed. “See? Teamwork already! Now, let’s go over the adjustments before Levi heads out.”

The three of them gathered around the workbench, Hanji’s enthusiasm blending with Valeria’s methodical explanations and Levi’s pointed questions. The room buzzed with a strange but effective synergy as they worked, each bringing their own perspective to the task. By the time Levi left with the modified gear slung over his shoulder, even he seemed mildly impressed, though he would never admit it outright.

As the door closed behind him, Hanji turned to Valeria with a satisfied grin. “Well, what do you think?”

Valeria exhaled, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I think this might actually work.”

Chapter Text

The sky was painted in muted hues of gray as the sun struggled to pierce through the thick clouds. Valeria stood at the edge of the training grounds, her fingers tightening slightly around the straps of her toolkit. Nearby, Levi adjusted his ODM gear with the efficiency of a seasoned soldier, his movements quick and precise, as though second nature.

A group of recruits lingered in the background, their hushed murmurs betraying a mixture of curiosity and awe. Even Hanji, who typically filled the air with chatter, stood back, her grin tempered by anticipation as she watched Levi prep for his test of Valeria’s modified gear.

“You sure about this?” Hanji finally broke the silence, her tone light but edged with genuine curiosity. “I'm glad you chose Levi to test this, but he’s not forgiving about flaws.”

Levi glanced up, his expression unreadable but sharp. “Good. If her modifications have flaws, she’d better hear it from me first.” He turned his attention to Valeria, his steel-gray eyes narrowing slightly. “And if it malfunctions, I’ll make sure you know about it.”

Valeria swallowed but met his gaze with quiet determination. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Captain.”

Without further comment, Levi stepped onto the designated starting platform. The obstacle course ahead was grueling: a complex web of tight turns, sudden ascents, and sharp descents designed to push ODM gear to its limits. Valeria had spent countless hours refining the course, making it as much a test of endurance as of skill.

The recruits fell silent as Levi launched into the air, the sharp hiss of compressed gas cutting through the stillness. His grapples fired with pinpoint accuracy, anchoring onto narrow beams as he maneuvered through the first series of obstacles. Valeria’s heart pounded in her chest as she tracked his movements, her gaze darting between the mechanisms of his gear and the course itself.

“Smooth retraction,” Hanji murmured, leaning closer to Valeria. “That’s new, isn’t it?”

“I adjusted the gas flow regulator,” Valeria replied quietly, her eyes never leaving Levi. “It increases efficiency without sacrificing power. He should be able to sustain longer bursts without overheating.”

Levi’s movements were seamless, each turn and pivot executed with the precision of someone who had spent years mastering the art of survival. Yet, as he approached one of the sharper descents, Valeria’s breath caught. This segment was designed to test the gear’s stability under high speed, a point of contention even in her most recent trials.

Levi fired his grapples and dropped into the descent, his body angled to reduce drag. The modifications might falter for a moment, and the strain on the retraction lines is evident. But then the gear stabilized, and the enhanced tension springs compensated for the velocity. Levi landed gracefully on the next platform, his expression unchanging as he launched into the next segment.

“Not bad,” Hanji muttered, though her grin had widened. “Not bad at all.”
Valeria exhaled slowly, her hands unclenching from where they had unconsciously gripped her toolkit. Levi’s pace didn’t slow as he tackled the final stretch, a series of tight, rapid-fire turns that required perfect timing. The recruits watched in silence, their awe growing with each maneuver.

Finally, Levi landed back on the platform where he had started, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. He stood, silent and unmoving, as the tension in the air thickened. Hanji was the first to break the silence, clapping her hands unabashedly.

“Well? What do you think, Levi?” she asked, her voice practically vibrating with excitement.

Levi turned his gaze to Valeria, his expression as impassive as ever. “It works,” he said simply, his tone neutral but carrying an undercurrent of approval. “The retraction speed is solid. Stability held even under strain. But…” He stepped closer, holding up one of the modified gas canisters. “This valve could use reinforcement. It’s fine now, but under prolonged use, it’ll wear out faster than the rest of the system.”

Valeria nodded, already noting his feedback mentally. “I’ll address that immediately. Thank you, Captain.”

Levi’s gaze lingered on her momentarily, his sharp eyes searching hers. “You’ve got skill,” he said, his voice quieter but no less firm. “But don’t think that means you can slack off for a second. Keep improving. Always.”
Valeria straightened, her confidence bolstered by his words. “Understood.”

Hanji, unable to contain herself, burst into laughter. “See? That’s Levi-speak for ‘You’re doing great.’”

Levi shot her a flat look but said nothing as he stepped past Valeria, the modified gear slung over his shoulder. The recruits parted quickly to let him pass, their admiration evident in how they watched him leave.
As the field settled back into motion, Valeria stood beside Hanji, her thoughts racing. The test had gone better than she had hoped, but Levi’s feedback lingered in her mind. There was always room for improvement, and she was determined to meet the challenge.
Hanji nudged her playfully. “Looks like you’ve earned his respect. That’s no small feat, you know.”

Valeria smiled faintly, her grip tightening on her toolkit. “I still have a lot to prove.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hanji said with a wink. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of chances.”

The faint echoes of recruits’ footsteps fade into the distance. Valeria lingered near the edge of the field, her fingers tracing the smooth metal of the ODM gear she had modified. The cool steel felt grounding in her hands, but her thoughts were anything but still. The morning’s test replayed in her mind—the hum of gas release, the sharp tension of retracting cables, and Levi’s curt yet undeniable approval.

She exhaled, her breath visible in the crisp air, and set the gear beside her. Her gaze drifted upward to the expanse of the sky, a dull gray canvas stretching endlessly above. The clouds churned slowly, mirroring the restless swirl of thoughts within her. For so long, she had defined herself by her work, the endless hours in workshops, and the meticulous attention she poured into every mechanism. But now, with every modification that passed into the hands of soldiers, she felt the weight of something greater.

She had always known, in theory, that her designs could save lives. Yet seeing Levi—the most seasoned of them—trust her work in the field brought that reality crashing down in a way she hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t just about the mechanics or the calculations anymore. It was about survival. About trust. About the lives hanging by the strength of her designs.

Her mind wandered to the recruits she had been instructing earlier. Their wide-eyed focus, earnest questions, tentative hands as they practiced recalibrating valves—each of them carried their own hopes and fears. Each relied on her work to protect them when their skills and courage would be tested against the enemy. The thought was sobering, and her fingers tightened reflexively around the straps of her toolkit.

“Is it enough?” she murmured, the words barely audible. She wasn’t sure who she was asking—the sky, the universe, or perhaps just herself.
She had always prided herself on her precision and ability to predict and control every variable within her reach. But no amount of logic could account for every possibility in the chaos of combat. She thought of the reports she had read, the accounts of soldiers lost even with the best equipment. The weight of that knowledge pressed heavily on her chest.
And yet, amidst the doubt, there was a spark of something else. Determination. She could still see Levi’s sharp gaze as he held up the modified gas canister, his words echoing in her mind. “You’ve got skill. There’s always room for improvement.” A small, almost wry smile tugged at her lips. It wasn’t praise in the traditional sense, but it felt like the highest compliment from Levi. Perhaps she was on the right path if he trusted her work, even with his relentless scrutiny.

She looked down at her hands, calloused from years of labor, and flexed her fingers. They were steady and capable. These hands had built the tools that could mean the difference between life and death, and she couldn’t allow herself to falter now.

Rising to her feet, Valeria picked up the ODM gear. The weight was familiar and comforting. She turned her gaze back to the training grounds, now empty but still carrying the energy of the morning’s efforts. The quiet offered a moment of clarity, a chance to refocus.

If she was going to carry this responsibility, she needed to do more than maintain the status quo. She needed to innovate and anticipate challenges before they arose. Her work couldn’t just be good; it had to be extraordinary. Life depending on her demanded nothing less.
With renewed resolve, she began walking toward the workshop. Her thoughts buzzed with ideas for the next round of adjustments—reinforcing the gas valves, refining the tension springs, and testing new materials for durability. There was so much more to be done, but for the first time, the weight on her shoulders felt less like a burden and more like a purpose.

And somewhere, deep in the recesses of her mind, a new thought began to take shape. One of connection, of understanding. It wasn’t just her work that mattered. It was how she shared it, stood alongside those who used it, and faced the uncertainty of tomorrow not as an engineer but as part of something greater.

Her steps quickened, and the spark of determination burned brighter within her. She didn’t have all the answers but knew where to start.

From his vantage point on the balcony of the command building, Erwin stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the scene below. The training grounds stretched out before him, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. Shadows grew long across the field and the faint hum of distant voices mixed with the occasional metallic clink of tools being stowed away. He observed as Valeria walked across the now-empty grounds, her modified ODM gear slung over her shoulder. Her pace was steady, but her posture carried a weight that Erwin recognized—a blend of exhaustion and resolve that he had come to associate with those who bore the burden of innovation.

“She’s been working hard,” came a voice behind him. Turning slightly, Erwin saw Pixis approaching with a cup of tea. The older commander’s steps were unhurried, his gaze keen as it followed Erwin’s, settling on Valeria as she disappeared into the workshop.
“She has,” Erwin replied simply, his tone thoughtful. “Levi’s report on the modified gear was thorough. He’s impressed—in his own way. That’s not something he offers lightly.”

Pixis chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “It’s rare for him to approve of anything new. She’s done well to earn his respect so quickly.” He sipped his tea before adding, “But respect alone won’t protect her from what comes next. Innovation attracts scrutiny as much as it does praise. And you know as well as I do how quickly admiration can turn into pressure.”

Erwin’s expression didn’t shift, but his eyes narrowed slightly as he considered Pixis’s words. “She’s capable,” he said after a pause. “But capability isn’t always enough. The soldiers rely on her work, and now they’ll rely on her as a figure—whether she’s ready for that. It’s a heavy mantle to carry.”

Pixis hummed in agreement, his tea swirling gently as he tilted the cup. “You’re thinking of giving her a larger role.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’m considering it,” Erwin admitted. “Her modifications are effective, but they’re just the beginning. With guidance, she could reshape the way we approach field operations entirely. But that kind of responsibility…” He let the sentence trail off, his gaze returning to the workshop. A faint light shone from the inside, silhouetting Valeria as she moved with purpose. Her figure seemed small against the vastness of the field, yet her presence commanded attention.

Pixis took another sip of tea, his expression unreadable. “Responsibility can break people or forge them into something greater. It’s a gamble, but I suspect she might be one of the few worth betting on.”
Erwin nodded slightly, his focus still on the workshop. Inside, he could just make out Valeria’s movements as she adjusted a piece of equipment. The faint glow of lamplight illuminated her figure, casting shadows that flickered and danced with her every motion.

“She reminds me of someone,” Erwin said quietly, almost to himself.
“Oh?” Pixis arched a brow. “Who might that be?”
Erwin didn’t answer immediately. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to memories of himself who had stood where Valeria now stood—the one who had carried the weight of expectations and risen to meet it and those who had faltered under its strain. Finally, he said, “Someone who understood the importance of what we’re trying to build. Someone who believed in creating a future, even if they couldn’t see it themselves.”
Pixis didn’t press further. He simply nodded, the lines of his face softening. “Then let’s hope she sees it through. If she can… well, you’ll have quite the ally in your plans.”

As Pixis turned and walked away, leaving Erwin alone with his thoughts, the commander continued to watch the workshop. The faint sound of tools and the occasional hum of machinery drifted through the quiet evening air. Valeria’s figure moved with precision, her focus unwavering despite the hour. She adjusted the gears on her table, pausing occasionally to take notes in a small journal beside her. Every motion spoke of Someone driven, yet her movements carried a hint of weariness that Erwin couldn’t ignore.

Erwin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his mind already piecing together how her talents might align with the larger strategy. There were risks, of course. There always were. But there was also potential—raw and unshaped but undeniably present. The way she carried herself, the determination etched into her every action, reminded him why he had started down this path in the first place.

The amber light faded into the cool blue of twilight, and the sky shifted to a deeper hue, speckled with the faintest stars. Erwin lingered a moment longer, his gaze unwavering. As he turned and walked back inside, one thought solidified in his mind, his steps measured and deliberate.
Some gambles, he thought, are worth taking.

Chapter Text

The workshop buzzed faintly with the sound of tools and machinery, the soft hum of a gas compressor filling the air as Valeria meticulously adjusted the tension springs on a modified ODM gear unit. The dimly lit space, illuminated only by the overhead lamp, cast a warm glow on her workbench. She leaned closer, the tip of her wrench tightening the final bolt into place, when a sharp knock on the door broke her concentration.
“Come in,” she called, not looking up from her work. The door creaked open, and Hanji Zoe's unmistakable voice filled the room.

“Valeria! There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
She glanced up, a faint smile tugging at her lips as Hanji entered. Her energy was as infectious as ever. She clutched a thick, leather-bound book, its edges worn with use.

“Commander Hanji,” Valeria greeted, setting her tools aside. “What can I do for you?”

Hanji waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, no, no, it’s not about what you can do for me. It’s about what I can do for you.” She approached the workbench and placed the book down with a dramatic flourish. “Behold: my field journal.”

Valeria’s brow furrowed slightly as she looked at the journal. Its cover was scuffed, the corners frayed, and the faint smell of ink and parchment wafted from its pages. “Your field journal?” she repeated, curiosity creeping into her voice.

“Indeed!” Hanji beamed, pulling up a nearby stool and plopping down on it. “It’s a compilation of everything I’ve observed, theorized, and experimented on regarding titans. Anatomy, behavior, regeneration… you name it, it’s in here.”

Valeria hesitated, her fingers brushing lightly over the book’s cover. “And you’re sharing this with me?” “Of course!” Hanji exclaimed. “You’re a brilliant mind, Valeria. Your work is incredible, but I think you’ve got the potential to contribute beyond mechanics. Titans are the root of everything we’re fighting for—or against. Understanding them might just give us the edge we need.”

Valeria opened the book cautiously, her eyes scanning the first few pages. The handwriting was neat but compact, the margins filled with annotated sketches of titan musculature and regenerative systems. She paused on a particularly detailed diagram of a titan’s nape, accompanied by notes on the varying tissue densities.

“This is… detailed,” Valeria murmured, flipping to another page. “And ambitious.”

“Isn’t it just?” Hanji said, her grin widening. “I’ve poured years into this. But I’ve hit a bit of a wall lately. That’s where you come in. I’m hoping your perspective can help me see things differently.”

Valeria glanced up. “You’re hoping my tinkering background can contribute to your research?”

Hanji nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! You think in terms of structure, mechanics, and efficiency. Titans, in their bizarre way, are just… biological machines. I want to see how your approach might uncover something I’ve missed.”

The idea intrigued Valeria. She turned another page, her eyes narrowing as she studied a sketch of a titan’s jaw structure. The notes described its crushing force and its size, with calculations estimating its mechanical equivalent. Her mind began to wander, connecting dots she hadn’t considered before.

“I’ll admit,” she said, “this is… fascinating. I’ve never thought about the Titans from this perspective. If nothing else, it’ll be an interesting challenge.”

“That’s the spirit!” Hanji exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I knew you’d be perfect for this. And who knows? Maybe you’ll discover something that changes everything.”

Valeria closed the book gently, her thoughts already racing with possibilities. “Thank you for trusting me with this, Commander. I’ll do my best to contribute.”

“Oh, I know you will,” Hanji said with a wink, standing up and dusting off her coat. “Don’t hesitate to find me if you have questions or ideas. I’m always up for a good brainstorming session.”

As Hanji made her way to the door, Valeria sat back down, the journal resting in her lap. The workshop seemed quieter now, the faint hum of machinery fading into the background as she opened the book again. She lost herself in the intricacies of Hanji’s notes, her mind teeming with questions and ideas.

Hours passed unnoticed, the lamplight casting long shadows across the room. When Valeria finally closed the journal, her fingers itching to jot down her observations, the night had fully descended. The stars outside the workshop window glittered faintly, and the cool air seeped in through the cracks in the door.

Valeria felt the spark of discovery for the first time in a long while. This thrill promised to take her far beyond the confines of her workshop and into uncharted territory.

Just as she leaned back to stretch, the faint creak of the workshop door interrupted her thoughts, followed by a soft knock. Valeria frowned slightly, wiping her hands on a rag as she said, “Come in.”

The door opened slowly, revealing Commander Erwin Smith. The dim light of the hallway silhouetted his towering figure, and for a moment, his commanding presence filled the room with a sense of calm authority. Yet his expression was softer than usual, contemplative rather than commanding, as though he had something more personal to convey.
“Commander Smith,” Valeria greeted, standing quickly out of instinct, her voice carrying a mixture of surprise and respect.

Erwin raised a hand, motioning for her to sit back down. “No need for formalities, Valeria,” he said faintly. “I was passing by and thought I’d take a moment to check on your progress.”

After a brief hesitation, Valeria nodded and reclaimed her seat. “I’ve been going through Commander Hanji’s journal,” she said, her voice tinged with awe. “It’s… remarkable.” Erwin’s sharp gaze moved to the worn journal resting on her workbench. “Hanji’s work always carries depth,” he remarked. “She told me she was sharing it with you. Earning her respect is no small feat.” His tone held a subtle note of encouragement.

Valeria’s fingertips grazed the journal’s scuffed cover, the weight of its contents palpable. “I’m grateful for the trust she’s placed in me,” she said, her voice quiet. “But there’s so much to learn… it sometimes feels daunting.”

Erwin’s expression softened, a rare warmth touching his features. “The most rewarding challenges often feel overwhelming at first. But you’ve already proven you can rise to the occasion. This is another step forward—and one I believe you’re more than ready for.”

The room settled into a brief, reflective silence, broken only by the faint clock ticking on the wall. Valeria lifted her gaze to meet his, her resolve evident. “Thank you, Commander. I won’t let you or Commander Hanji down.”

Erwin inclined his head, his thoughtful demeanor unchanging. “I have no doubt you’ll rise to meet this challenge. If you need any resources or assistance, please let me know. This work could be a turning point for all of us fighting on humanity’s behalf.”

He didn’t move to leave immediately. Instead, Erwin’s gaze lingered on the journal, and his voice softened, taking on a more personal tone. “Do you know why Hanji’s journals are so valuable?”

Valeria tilted her head slightly, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “I would assume because of her experience and insight?”

“That, yes,” Erwin agreed, “but also because they are one of the few records we have that attempt to make sense of what many would dismiss as chaos. Titans—these creatures we fear and fight—are terrifying partly because we don’t fully understand them. Hanji’s work is a step toward bridging that gap. And now you’re a part of that effort.”

Valeria’s fingers brushed the journal’s cover. “It’s overwhelming to think about… trying to understand something that’s destroyed so much. But it's worth it if it helps us fight more effectively.”

Erwin stepped closer, his voice steady but reflective. “Understanding isn’t just about fighting. It’s about survival, strategy, and perhaps even hope. Every detail Hanji has written and every observation you make builds a foundation for what might one day lead to a solution none of us can imagine. Sometimes, the smallest discoveries lead to the most profound breakthroughs.”

Valeria glanced at the detailed sketches in the journal, her brow furrowing in thought. “Hanji’s notes mentioned the regeneration rates varying between titan types. She calculated it down to seconds in some cases. That kind of consistency… it’s like a system, isn’t it?”

Erwin’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. “Exactly. Patterns, systems, structures… they’re everywhere, even in what seems unexplainable. You can see those patterns differently through the lens of an engineer. Don’t underestimate the value of that perspective.”

Her grip on the journal tightened, her resolve strengthening. “I’ll give it everything I have.”

“I know you will,” Erwin said, his tone filled with quiet confidence. “One more thing, Valeria. Don’t just look for answers when reading through those pages. Let yourself ask new questions. Curiosity is often our greatest ally.”

Valeria nodded, his words echoing in her mind as he finally exited the room. Alone once more, she opened the journal again, her thoughts racing. Her responsibility felt immense, but it was no longer daunting. Instead, it carried a sense of purpose that burned brighter with every word she read.

----------------------

The workshop was quieter now, with only the soft rustle of papers and the hum of a nearby lantern filling the space. Valeria sat at her workbench, deep in thought, as she flipped through Hanji’s journal. The sketches and notes seemed to breathe with life, every page offering a new puzzle for her to unravel. She jotted her observations in the margins, her handwriting neat and deliberate.

The door creaked open suddenly, and Valeria barely looked up as Hanji strolled in. Her usual energy was subdued but still unmistakable.
“Still at it, I see,” Hanji remarked, plopping onto a nearby stool. “You’re relentless, Val. I like that.”

Valeria smiled faintly, setting down her pen. “I want to make sure I understand everything. Your notes are incredibly detailed, but they raise as many questions as they answer.”

“Good!” Hanji exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. “Questions are what keep us moving forward. Speaking of which, how’s it been working with Erwin? He’s not exactly known for being hands-on with new recruits.”

Valeria’s brow furrowed slightly. “Commander Smith hasn’t been difficult to work with if that’s what you mean. He’s… thoughtful. Direct.”
Hanji leaned forward, her grin widening. “Oh, thoughtful and direct, is he? That’s an interesting choice of words.”

Valeria blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What are you talking about, Commander?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Hanji said, waving her hands innocently, though the mischievous glint in her eyes suggested otherwise. “It’s just that Erwin doesn’t usually spend so much time personally checking in on someone. He must see something special in you.”

Valeria’s cheeks warmed slightly, and she quickly returned to the journal. “He’s invested in everyone’s success. That’s his role as a leader.”
Hanji let out a low hum, resting her chin in her hand as she watched Valeria closely. “True, but he’s a man who values potential, and you’ve clearly caught his attention. I’m just saying maybe it’s worth paying attention to how much he believes in you. That kind of support isn’t something to take lightly.”

Valeria paused, her hand hovering over the journal’s pages. Hanji’s words lingered in the air, their weight heavier than the teasing tone in which they were delivered. She finally glanced up, meeting Hanji’s gaze. “I’ll keep that in mind, Commander,” she said quietly.

Hanji’s grin softened into something more genuine. “Good. Just don’t forget to give yourself credit, too. It’s not just about what others see in you. It’s about what you’re willing to see in yourself.”

For a moment, the two women sat in comfortable silence, the hum of the lantern filling the space once more. Then Hanji clapped her hands, breaking the quiet.

“Alright, I’ve taken up enough of your time. But before I go…” She leaned in conspiratorially. “If Erwin comes by again, make sure you ask him something profound. He loves that kind of thing. You might surprise him.”
Valeria laughed softly, shaking her head. “Noted, Commander.”
With that, Hanji stood, her energy renewed as she went to the door. She paused briefly, glancing back with a wink. “Don’t work too hard, Valeria. Save some brilliance for tomorrow.”

Valeria let out a small sigh as the door closed behind her, her mind swirling with thoughts. She looked back down at the journal, but her focus had shifted. Hanji’s words echoed faintly in her mind, leaving a trail of questions she wasn’t quite ready to answer. Still, a small smile played at the corners of her lips as she picked up her pen and resumed work.

Chapter Text

Erwin leaned back in his chair, the day's weight pressing heavily on his shoulders. The late hour was evident in the dark circles under his eyes and the slight sag of his usually upright posture. The command responsibilities were unrelenting, and though he had grown accustomed to the burden, nights like this reminded him of the toll it took. He glanced at the papers strewn across his desk—maps, reports, and schedules—each one a piece of the intricate puzzle he was tasked with solving. A faint sigh escaped him as he pushed back from the desk, standing and rolling his sleeves further up his forearms. Despite the fatigue pulling at him, there was one more matter he needed to attend to before the day was done.

He reached for his jacket but hesitated, opting to leave it behind. Tonight wasn’t about formalities. As he exited his office, the cool air of the hallway refreshed him, and his steps echoed softly against the stone floor. The barracks were quiet, the usual hum of activity replaced by the stillness of the evening. As he walked, his thoughts turned to Valeria, recalling the progress reports he’d read about her modifications to the ODM gear. Her work had been described as meticulous and innovative, but what intrigued him most was her evident passion for the craft. It was a rare quality and one that he admired.

The walk to her workshop allowed Erwin a moment to reflect. His days were a blur of strategies and sacrifices, each decision made with the weight of lives hanging in the balance. He didn’t often have the chance to focus on something hopeful, representing survival and progress. Valeria’s contributions reminded him of what they were fighting for the opportunity to create a future where humanity could thrive.

Valeria meticulously inspected the modifications she had made to the ODM gear on her workbench. The flickering glow of a single lantern illuminated her workspace, casting long shadows on the scattered tools and blueprints. Her fingers traced the reinforced grappling mechanism, the faint hum of tension lingering in the air as her mind turned over the intricacies of her design. The recruits’ earlier practice replayed in her thoughts, their movements hesitant but improving under her guidance. She let out a small sigh, satisfaction mingled with the ever-present worry that accompanied her work.

A knock at the door interrupted her reverie. Quickly brushing her hands on her pants before crossing the room to answer. To her surprise, Commander Erwin stood in the doorway, filling the quiet space with an unspoken authority. He wasn’t in his usual uniform—instead, he wore a plain button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the casual attire contrasting with his usual composed demeanor.

“Commander Smith,” Valeria greeted, her voice steady but laced with curiosity. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Erwin inclined his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” she replied, stepping aside to let him enter. The room suddenly felt smaller with him inside, his towering figure a reminder of the weight he carried as leader of the Survey Corps.

Erwin’s gaze swept over the room, lingering on the half-finished blueprints and neatly arranged tools. “I wanted to discuss something with you,” he began, his tone calm but purposeful. “The upcoming expedition. Your modifications to the ODM gear have proven invaluable in training. Still, it’s time to see how they perform in the field.”
Valeria’s eyes widened slightly, and she nodded. “You’re planning to use the upgrades?”

“Yes,” he said, his hands resting on the back of a nearby chair. “The enhancements you’ve implemented could give us a critical advantage. The terrain we’re navigating will test the limits of our current gear. I believe your work will make a significant difference.”

She felt a swell of pride at his words but tempered it with the responsibility that came with them. “I’ll ensure everything is ready before deployment,” she said, her voice resolute.

Erwin gestured toward a chair at the table. “Sit with me for a moment. There’s more I’d like to discuss.”

As she sat, Erwin unrolled a large map across the table, the worn parchment crisscrossed with markings and notes. He pointed to a densely forested area near the northern edge of the chart. “This is our target. It’s uncharted territory with limited visibility and uneven terrain. Your modifications will need to handle these conditions without fail.”

Valeria leaned forward, her brow furrowing in concentration as she studied the map. “The grappling hooks will need additional reinforcement for the trees,” she murmured, almost to herself. “And the gas valves… they might require recalibration to adapt to the changes in altitude.”

He watched her closely, noting how her fingers traced the map’s lines, and her lips moved silently as she calculated adjustments. “Your attention to detail is remarkable,” he said, breaking the silence.

She looked up, meeting his gaze. “It’s what’s required. Lives depend on this.”

He nodded, a faint glimmer of respect in his eyes. “Exactly. And that’s why I wanted to share something with you.”

He pulled out a worn leather-bound journal. He turned to the table and placed it before her, opening it to reveal detailed sketches of ODM gear alongside annotations in neat handwriting.

Valeria’s breath caught as she recognized the familiar scrawl. “This… this was my father’s,” she whispered, her fingers brushing the edge of the page. “I thought all of his work was lost.”

Erwin’s voice softened. “My predecessor preserved it. Your father’s contributions were foundational to the development of our current gear. I thought it was only fitting that you see this.”

Emotion swelled in her chest as she flipped through the pages, each sketch and note a testament to her father’s genius. “Thank you, Commander,” she said, her voice thick with gratitude. “This means more than I can express.”

He leaned back slightly, his gaze thoughtful. “Seems like your father was a visionary, much like my own. He was an educator who sought to uncover truths about our world.”

Valeria looked up, her expression softening. “I’m sorry. Seems to have been difficult.”

Erwin nodded. “It was. But it taught me the value of persistence. Knowledge and progress come with a price, but they’re worth fighting for.” She smiled faintly, her fingers lingering on the journal. “My father used to say every innovation was a step toward survival, no matter how small. He believed in building a future, even if he wouldn’t live to see it.”

“And you’ve carried that belief forward,” Erwin said, his voice steady. “It’s very evident in your work.” Erwin handed another book filled with titan anatomy illustrations and behavioral notes. “I thought you might find this useful,” he said. “It’s a compilation of observations and theories. Some are proven; others remain untested. But they could inspire new directions for your work.”

Valeria’s eyes lit up as she opened the book; her curiosity was ignited. “These details… they’re incredible. If we could understand their regeneration patterns more deeply, it might open doors we haven’t considered.”

Erwin watched her with quiet admiration. “Your perspective is invaluable, Valeria. Don’t underestimate the impact of how you see the world.”
She looked up, meeting his gaze with determination. “I won’t. Thank you, Commander.” “It’s belief. We're building together in your work and in the future,” he replied.

Leaning back slightly in his chair, his expression softening as the conversation with Valeria drifted from the serious to the comfortable. The tension of discussing the upcoming expedition and her father’s work had eased, replaced by a quieter atmosphere of mutual respect and understanding. The candlelight flickered, casting warm shadows across the room. For a moment, the weight of their responsibilities seemed to lessen.

Valeria glanced at the open journal before her, the pages brimming with her father’s precise handwriting. “It’s fascinating to see how much thought went into these designs,” she said, running her fingers along the edge of the paper. “But honestly, I can’t imagine trying to teach these concepts to recruits who… well, let’s just say don’t always seem eager to learn.”

Erwin let out a low chuckle, a rare sound that caught Valeria off guard. “You’d be surprised. Sometimes, commanding the Survey Corps is less about strategy and more about convincing a group of stubborn soldiers not to charge headfirst into certain death.”

“Oh, I believe it. During one of the training sessions, a recruit insisted that the grappling mechanism would work better if they ‘modified’ it themselves. By the time I got to them, they’d managed to tie the lines in a knot so tight it’d take hours to undo. They’re lucky they didn’t try to use it first.” she laughed.

Erwin’s lips curved into a smile, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. “And how did you handle that?”

“Oh, I gave them the untangling job,” Valeria said, smirking. “Figured they’d learn better if they fixed their own mistake. I’m not sure they’ll ever touch the grappling lines again.”

Erwin nodded approvingly. “That’s one way to ensure they remember. I’ve found that hands-on lessons stick the most… although it can lead to some interesting incidents. Once, during my early years as a commander, a soldier experimented with a new formation without approval. Let’s just say the results were memorable for everyone involved.”

Valeria raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What happened?”

Erwin’s smile widened, though he shook his head as if debating whether to share. “The formation resulted in half the squad hanging upside down from the trees while the other half tried to free them. It took the better part of the afternoon to get everyone down. I’m certain the local wildlife thought we were some strange, flailing fruit.”

“And here I thought you were always so composed and in control.” Valeria’s laughs are bright and infectious.

“I’d like to think I’ve improved since then,” Erwin replied dryly. However, the twinkle in his eyes suggested he was enjoying the moment. “But I’ll admit, even now, there are days when I wonder if I’m more a babysitter than a commander.”

“You’re not alone in that,” Valeria said, grinning. “Just last week, I had to discuss an argument between two recruits over who got to test the upgraded gear first. They were so insistent, you’d think I was handing out free rations.” Erwin chuckled again, the sound deep and genuine. “It’s a wonder we get anything done.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the warmth of their shared humor lingering in the air. Valeria glanced at the journal again, her expression softening as she traced one of the sketches. “It’s moments like these that make the harder days worth it, though. Knowing we’re building something better, even one small step at a time.”

Erwin studied her for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “You have a rare perspective, Valeria. You see the bigger picture, but don’t lose sight of the details that make it all possible. That’s a valuable trait, especially in times like these.”

Valeria looked up, meeting his gaze. “I think I just learned it from watching others. My father always said that progress isn’t about giant leaps the small, steady steps that get you there.”
Erwin nodded, his expression softening. “Wise words. And ones I’d say you’ve taken to heart.” The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over their faces, and for a moment, the weight of the outside world seemed to fade.

“Commander,” Valeria said after a beat, her tone lighter, “if you ever need help babysitting the recruits, just let me know. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Erwin’s smile returned, small but genuine. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
With that, their laughter hung in the air, a quiet reminder that moments of levity and connection could still be found even amidst the chaos.

--------------------------

As the evening deepened and the candlelight began to dim, Erwin leaned back in his chair, his posture finally relaxing as the weight of the day seemed to settle into his bones. The quiet of the room wrapped around him like a familiar cloak, the soft crackle of the dying candlewick the only sound breaking the silence. Across from him, Valeria’s workspace had returned to its tidy order, the tools she had been using earlier neatly stowed away. She had left with a polite nod and a faint smile that lingered in his mind longer than he expected.

He glanced toward the journal he had shown her, now sitting closed on the corner of his desk. The weight of its contents wasn’t just physical; it was a symbol of legacies her father’s, his own, and the collective struggle of those who came before them. Seeing Valeria's eyes light up as she pored over the pages reminded him of the rare moments of hope he allowed himself to feel. It was a small thing, but small things mattered. In a world as fraught as theirs, they were sometimes the only things that did.

Erwin stood slowly, rolling his shoulders to work out the stiffness that had settled there after hours at his desk. His movements were deliberate, almost ritualistic, as he extinguished the candle and moved to the small window overlooking the barracks below. The moon hung low, casting its pale light over the quiet courtyard. He could see faint figures moving about, soldiers on late-night patrol or finishing tasks they hadn’t managed to complete during the day. Their dedication never ceased to impress him, even as he knew the burden it placed on them.

His thoughts turned to Valeria again her curiosity, her determination, and the quiet strength she carried despite her own doubts. She reminded him of the early days of his career when the fire to create change burned fiercely, unhindered by the scars of failure and loss. It was a fire he’d kept alive, though it sometimes felt like it flickered dangerously close to going out. People like her fanned those flames, reigniting his resolve in ways he rarely admitted.

As he looked away from the window, he began unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, rolling the sleeves down with methodical precision. The small, mundane act was a welcome reprieve from the complexities of his role. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to shed the mantle of command, to simply be… Erwin. There are no grand strategies or endless calculations—just a man trying to navigate the world like anyone else. It was a fleeting thought, one he quickly pushed aside. His responsibilities were too great to entertain such indulgences for long.

He moved to the edge of his bed, the mattress creaking slightly under his weight as he sat. The room was sparse, almost Spartan in its simplicity, but it suited him. The fewer distractions, the better. He reached for the small stack of books on the nightstand, his fingers brushing over the familiar leather-bound cover of a text on titan behavior. It was the same book he had shared with Valeria earlier, and he found himself thumbing through the pages absentmindedly, his mind tracing their conversation.
Her observations had been sharp, her questions insightful. She had a methodical and inventive way of approaching problems, a rare combination.

It was clear to him now why Pixis had spoken so highly of her. Erwin had initially viewed her contributions as valuable but peripheral; now, he realized she was integral to their efforts. If they were to survive, it would be through the work of individuals like her who dared to think beyond the limitations imposed by fear and tradition.

Lying back, Erwin allowed himself to close his eyes. The day’s exhaustion pulled at him, but his thoughts remained active, darting between strategies for the upcoming expedition and the fleeting moments of connection he’d shared with Valeria. For all his careful planning, there were still so many variables he couldn’t control, and the weight of that uncertainty pressed heavily on him. But in the quiet of his room, he allowed himself a sliver of hope, the one that the paths they were forging might one day lead to something better, no matter how uncertain.

As sleep claimed him, his last thoughts lingered on Valeria’s parting words. “Every small step matters,” she had said. As the darkness enveloped him, Erwin resolved to keep taking those steps, no matter how heavy the burden or how distant the destination was.

Chapter Text

Valeria awoke to the muted light of dawn filtering through the thin curtains of her modest room. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of rain from the night before. She sat up slowly, her thoughts still heavy with the memory of her meeting with Erwin the previous evening. The map he had shown her, with its intricate annotations and detailed strategies, lingered vividly in her mind. It was a reminder of her work's weight not just for her but for everyone who would depend on those modifications in the field.

She dressed methodically, choosing a simple, practical blouse and sturdy pants that allowed her to move quickly in the workshop. As she tied her hair back, she caught her reflection in the small mirror above her desk. There was a glimmer of determination in her eyes but also a shadow of doubt that she quickly pushed aside.

Her thoughts returned to Erwin’s measured words, how he had spoken of the expedition, and the potential her innovations held. It was a discussion of mechanics and a glimpse into his unwavering belief in humanity’s resilience. She found herself both inspired and intimidated by his conviction. Shaking her head, she grabbed her notes from the desk, jotting down a quick list of adjustments she’d thought of in the quiet moments before sleep had claimed her.

The morning light had grown brighter when she reached her workshop, illuminating the tools and parts neatly arranged on the benches. The familiar rhythm of the space offered a reprieve from the weight of her thoughts. The hum of machinery and the faint clink of metal filled the air as she assembled a modified grappling mechanism. The process was methodical, each movement precise as she worked to bring her designs to life. Her mind, however, wandered to the map again, replaying the conversation with Erwin and the sense of shared purpose it had ignited.

Her surroundings provided a welcome contrast to the mental noise of her lingering thoughts, and the lantern’s glow cast long shadows across the walls as she worked meticulously, immersed in her task. The faint hum of voices outside her workshop door brought her back to the present. She glanced up as the door opened, revealing Commander Pixis and another man she recognized as Nile Dok. His sharp features and impeccable Military Police uniform were a stark contrast to Pixis’s more relaxed demeanor. Valeria quickly straightened, brushing her hands on her apron out of habit.

“Ah, Valeria,” Pixis greeted warmly, his tone as easygoing as ever. The older commander’s eyes sparkled with pride and curiosity as he motioned toward the man beside him. “I hope we’re not interrupting. I thought it was about time you met Commander Nile Dok. He’s been curious about the work you’ve been doing here.”

Nile’s gaze swept over the workshop with the precision of someone accustomed to assessing situations quickly. He stepped forward, his expression carefully neutral, but his tone measured. “Miss Valeria,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “I’ve heard quite a bit about your contributions to the Survey Corps. Pixis speaks highly of you.”

“Thank you, Commander Dok,” Valeria replied, polite but reserved. She straightened slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

Pixis stepped further into the room, his hands clasped behind his back as he glanced at the workbench. “Valeria has been refining these for months now,” he said, nodding toward the neatly laid-out ODM components. His tone was conversational but carried an undertone of genuine respect. “I thought you might appreciate seeing the results firsthand.”

Nile approached the bench, his eyes narrowing slightly as he examined the grappling mechanisms and reinforced gas valves. He picked up one of the pieces, turning it over in his hands with a practiced air. “Impressive craftsmanship,” he remarked, his tone conveying genuine admiration despite its restraint. “Efficient and well-thought-out. You’ve done excellent work.”

“Thank you, sir,” Valeria said, her hands clasped behind her back. There was a faint trace of nervousness in her voice, but her confidence in her work shone through. “The improvements are meant to enhance both maneuverability and endurance in the field. It’s still a work in progress, but I’m confident in its potential.”

Pixis gave an approving nod, his smile widening slightly. “She’s being modest,” he added, glancing at Nile. “These upgrades are already making waves. I’ve seen the difference they’ve made in the training grounds.” He paused, his gaze flicking back to Valeria. “You’ve come a long way since your apprenticeship, and it shows.”

Pixis then turned back to Nile, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. “I’ll leave you two to discuss the details. Commander Dok, I’m sure you’ll find Valeria’s insights enlightening. Just try not to monopolize all her time; I’ll need her brilliance elsewhere soon enough.”

With a nod to both of them, Pixis excused himself, leaving Valeria and Nile alone in the workshop. The silence was brief but heavy, the faint sounds of tools and machinery from neighboring rooms filling the void. Valeria shifted her weight slightly, uncertain what Nile’s visit would bring.

Nile placed the ODM gear back on the bench and turned to Valeria. As his eyes briefly met hers, he noted the quiet determination behind her reserved demeanor. Something about her.. not just her skill or intelligence, but the way she carried herself with purpose caught his attention in a way he wasn’t entirely prepared to acknowledge.

“It’s rare to see someone from the Garrison with such an inventive approach,” he began, his tone measured. His mind wandered briefly to Erwin, recalling how the commander had spoken of her work with a rare blend of admiration and expectation. Was this another of Erwin’s well-calculated risks? Someone he’d carefully chosen to mold into his ambitious plans?

“Your work is impressive,” Nile continued, glancing at the neatly arranged tools on the bench as if searching for flaws. “But I can’t help but wonder… what’s your ultimate goal here?”

Valeria blinked, slightly taken aback by the question. “My goal is to improve humanity’s chances of survival,” she said simply. Her words were spoken with a clarity that left little room for doubt. “If my modifications can save even one life, they’re worth the effort.”

Nile’s lips pressed into a thin line. He couldn’t deny the sincerity in her voice, but he couldn’t shake the unease stirring in his chest. “A noble sentiment,” he said, his gaze briefly lowering to the polished metal of the ODM gear. “But working so closely with the Survey Corps… it’s a dangerous path. Erwin has a way of drawing people in, convincing them to take risks they might not fully understand.”

As he spoke, Nile’s mind flashed to past missions, to the faces of soldiers who had believed in Erwin’s vision and paid the ultimate price. And yet, there was a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if Valeria’s resolve would make her one of those rare exceptions—someone who could survive the gravitational pull of Erwin’s ambition.

Valeria tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing. “Commander Erwin has been nothing but supportive of my work. He’s allowed me to test and refine my designs to benefit everyone.”

Nile’s gaze sharpened, though his voice remained calm. “And do you believe his motives are entirely selfless? Erwin’s vision for humanity is ambitious, but ambition often comes at a cost. I’ve seen it before good people caught up in his plans, only to be left behind when the risks outweigh the rewards.”

Her jaw tightened, though she kept her tone respectful. “I’m aware of the risks, Commander Dok. But I don’t make my decisions lightly. My work is my own, and I choose to focus on the impact it can have, not the politics surrounding it.”

Nile studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. There was something unnervingly resolute about her, a quiet strength that reminded him, irritatingly, of Erwin. The comparison left a sour taste in his mouth. “You’re confident,” he said finally. “But confidence alone doesn’t guarantee survival.”

“Neither does hesitation,” Valeria countered, her voice steady. Her hands rested lightly on the edge of the workbench, a subtle signal of her resolve.

For a brief moment, something flickered in Nile’s eyes—a mixture of frustration and admiration. He glanced around the workshop, his hands clasped behind his back. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but wonder how Erwin had managed to pull someone like her into his orbit. “Just be careful, Valeria,” he said quietly. “You’re valuable, not just to the Garrison but to all of us. Don’t let anyone… or anything… take that for granted.”
Valeria nodded, her gaze unwavering. “I won’t, commander. Thank you for your concern.”

Nile gave her a curt nod before turning toward the door. “And if you ever need advice… or someone to remind you of the bigger picture, you know where to find me.”

With that, he left, the door closing softly behind him. Valeria stood in the quiet of her workshop, her thoughts swirling. She glanced back at the ODM gear on the bench, her reflection faint in the polished metal. Nile’s words lingered, but they only strengthened her resolve. Her path was her own, and no amount of doubt would deter her from walking it. As she returned to her work, the soft hum of machinery filled the space, a steady rhythm that mirrored her determination.

---------------

Nile’s words lingered in her mind as she adjusted the reinforced grappling mechanisms on the ODM gear before her. Her hands moved with practiced precision, tightening bolts and aligning cables, but her thoughts were anything but settled. The implication that she might be swept into Erwin’s world a world of calculated risks and monumental stakes made her uneasy. Still, it also ignited a flicker of determination. If she was to be part of this, she needed to be ready.

The map Erwin had shown her still rested on the corner of her workbench, its edges slightly curled from being rolled and unrolled. She reached for it, smoothing it out with her fingertips as her eyes traced the routes he had outlined. Each mark, each annotation, represented lives on the line. She had spent hours since their meeting imagining how her modifications might make a difference, how they could mean the difference between survival and failure. The thought spurred her to make additional adjustments to the grappling mechanism in front of her, testing the tension in the cables and ensuring the gas valves were perfectly aligned.

Her concentration was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching the workshop. The rhythm of the stride was energetic and slightly uneven, and Valeria didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
“Valeria!” Hanji’s voice rang out, accompanied by the creak of the workshop door as it swung open. “I swear, you’re as bad as me when it comes to staying glued to your projects.”

Valeria straightened, setting her tools down, and turned to face Hanji, who was already scanning the room with an expression of uncontained curiosity. “Commander Hanji,” she greeted, offering a small smile. “What brings you here?”

Hanji grinned, waving off the formal title. “Oh, please, just Hanji. Titles make things so stiff. Anyway, I heard you’ve been working on some incredible upgrades, and I couldn’t resist sneaking a peek. ” Hanji leaned in slightly, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “I might need your brilliant mind for something.”

Valeria’s brows lifted in mild surprise. “Need my help? With what?”
Hanji’s grin widened as she pulled a rolled-up set of blueprints from the satchel over her shoulder. She unrolled them on an empty section of the workbench, revealing a detailed schematic of a contraption that looked intricate and experimental. “I’ve been working to better immobilize Titans during field experiments. It’s a net launcher, but the mechanism isn’t as efficient as I’d like. Who better to consult than the engineer responsible for those gorgeous ODM gear upgrades?”

Valeria leaned over the blueprints, her eyes narrowing as she studied the design. “A net launcher…” she murmured, her fingers tracing the lines of the schematic. “The firing mechanism here looks like it might jam if there’s too much tension in the spring. And the weight distribution could cause issues with recoil. Have you tested it yet?”

“Only a couple of times,” Hanji admitted, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “And, uh, let’s just say the results were… explosive. Not in a good way.”

Valeria suppressed a chuckle, shaking her head. “I’d recommend reinforcing the chamber and adjusting the tension spring here,” she said, pointing to a specific section of the blueprint. “It’ll make the mechanism more stable. And you might want to shift the weight slightly forward to reduce recoil.”

Hanji’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Brilliant! See? I knew coming to you was the right idea. You’ve got an eye for these things.”

As they worked together, bouncing ideas back and forth, Valeria relaxed in Hanji’s presence. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and the two of them quickly fell into an easy rhythm, sketching adjustments and debating the best materials. For the first time that day, Valeria felt a sense of camaraderie that eased the tension left behind by her earlier conversation with Nile.

After nearly an hour of brainstorming, Hanji leaned back with a satisfied sigh, stretching her arms above her head. “You’re a lifesaver, Valeria. I can’t wait to test these adjustments. And don’t worry I’ll credit you when it works like a dream.”

Valeria smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “I’m happy to help. Let me know how the tests go.”

Hanji gathered her blueprints and headed for the door, leaving Valeria alone once more. The workshop felt quieter in her absence, but the sense of purpose Hanji had brought with her lingered.

As Valeria turned back to the workbench, a thought struck her. Though experimental, Hanji’s net launcher design had sparked something in her mind. What if she could create customized ODM upgrades tailored to the strengths of specific individuals? Hanji’s glasses, for example, could benefit from an adaptive lens system that allowed her to magnify distant objects or focus on fine details with ease. Valeria jotted down a rough sketch on a scrap piece of paper, imagining how a small dial mechanism on the frame could adjust the magnification seamlessly.

Her thoughts then shifted to Levi. His unparalleled agility and precision demanded a gear upgrade to enhance his speed without compromising control. Valeria envisioned a modified gas propulsion system that could deliver sharper bursts of power for rapid maneuvers while conserving fuel. She made a note to experiment with lighter materials for the grappling hooks, reducing weight while maintaining durability.

And then there was Erwin. His commanding presence and tactical foresight made him a leader. Still, Valeria wondered how to translate those qualities into his ODM gear. She sketched an idea for an enhanced stability mechanism. This counterbalance system would allow smoother, more controlled movements in high-pressure scenarios. It also includes reinforced cables and a secondary braking system to ensure reliability during prolonged operations.

When Valeria set her pencil down, her workbench was covered in notes and sketches. Each design felt like a small piece of a larger puzzle, a way to contribute to the Survey Corps and the individuals who embodied its mission. She leaned back in her chair, her mind buzzing with possibilities.

The workshop’s quiet ambiance returned as she reached for a clean sheet of paper, ready to refine her ideas. For the first time in weeks, Valeria felt excitement that went beyond her usual sense of duty.

Chapter Text

Valeria stretched her sore fingers, pushing away from her workbench with a quiet sigh. The faint glow of lantern light flickered against the metal frames of her designs, but her mind was no longer focused on blueprints and mechanics. She needed air.

Stepping outside, she inhaled deeply, letting the cool night breeze clear her thoughts. The sight of Survey Corps members preparing their equipment in the dim torchlight made her pause. She hadn't been part of the training yet and hadn't felt the weight of an expedition first-hand. Until now, her work had always been confined to the safety of her workshop detached from the raw dangers of the battlefield. She knew the stakes in theory, but there was something about watching the silent determination of the soldiers that made everything feel real in a way that blueprints never could.

Two soldiers stood a few paces away, their hushed conversation carrying through the still air.
"Did you see the route? This one's going to be rough," one muttered, tightening the straps on his gear.
"Yeah. Higher Titan activity in the eastern region. Even with the new formations, casualties are expected."

Valeria’s stomach tightened. She had logically known what the expeditions entailed, but hearing it spoken so plainly was different. The battlefield wasn’t just about tactics and innovation but about survival. Would my modifications genuinely make a difference? Or would they simply delay the inevitable? The thought gnawed at her, making her grip on her arms tighten.

"You spacing out?"

Valeria nearly flinched at the sudden voice beside her. Turning, she found Levi standing a few feet away, his arms crossed as he leaned against the stone wall. His sharp eyes flicked between her and the soldiers before settling on her with a knowing look.

"Didn’t peg you for the type to eavesdrop on anxious recruits."
She huffed lightly, crossing her arms. "I wasn’t eavesdropping. Just… thinking. I’m sort of starting to realize how different it is being here, building and modifying gear, now getting it to finally be used in an expedition. Repairing gear for so long I didn’t think it would come to this.”
Levi studied her, his expression unreadable. "It’s a good thing you get that now. You know it’s not too late to back out if you don’t want to continue."

Valeria scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Very reassuring."

His lips twitched slightly just a fraction of amusement before he returned to his usual unreadable state. "I'm sure you're used to it at this point. The uncertainty. The risk. It doesn’t make it easier, but you stop overthinking it after a while. I reassure you Pixis wouldn’t have gotten you in this position in the first place."

Valeria considered his words, glancing down at her hands. "Easier said than done, I just question whether what I do is enough?"

Levi shrugged. "Then you keep moving anyway. Heck, even I’m impressed with your ability to show up and do something. Even with the recruits they seem to appreciate the work you do.”
“Thank you for that Captain”, she smiles.
“Just Levi” he says.
" Well then Levi, I’ve worked on some upgrades for your ODM gear," she said instead, shifting the conversation. "Lighter materials for better speed, but without sacrificing durability. I was going to give them to you before you left for the expedition."
Levi raised a brow. "Yeah? You’re messing with my gear now?"
Valeria smirked slightly. "Enhancing it with your abilities more like, you’d like to have extra mobility, right? I’d be honored for you to get a feel for them first."

Levi studied her for a moment, then gave a slight nod. "You think I could try it right now, now that the recruits are heading off to bedtime?"

Valeria got caught off guard by his suggestion, but it also gave her a rush of excitement. "I wouldn't see why not, but test your new ODM gear in the dark? Don't go breaking my gear."

Levi scoffs. "Come on, then. Before someone sees us."

She followed him into the dimly lit outskirts of the camp. The distant sounds of the recruits still training faded as they reached a clearing, where the towering trees provided enough space for maneuverability without drawing attention. Levi slung his ODM gear into position, testing the weight of the modifications.

"Lighter than I expected," he muttered, fastening the new clasps. "Hope you didn’t compromise durability."

Valeria crossed her arms as she watched Levi methodically strap on his gear. His movements were efficient and practiced every buckle tightened just enough; every clasp checked twice. He adjusted the gas canisters, rolling his shoulders slightly to test the fit, his fingers running over the modified triggers with measured scrutiny. For a moment, he said nothing, merely testing the weight in his hands. Then, with a slight nod to himself, he clicked the final latch into place and exhaled.

Valeria tilted her head. "You really think I’d let you wear something half-finished? Just get up there already."

Levi didn’t need any more convincing. With a sharp hiss of gas, he shot upward, the modified grappling hooks sinking into the bark of a massive tree. He moved swiftly, weaving between branches with near-effortless precision. Valeria held her breath, watching for any hesitations, any signs that her adjustments might have thrown off his control. But Levi was sharp as ever, shifting direction with smoother transitions, landing with precise weight distribution, and accelerating faster.

After a few minutes of silent observation, he landed before her, dusting off his gloves. "Not bad," he admitted, a flicker of approval in his tone. "Acceleration’s smoother. Gas efficiency feels tighter."

Valeria raised a brow. "That’s all? No complaints?"

Levi gave a slight shrug. "I’ll let you know if I find any mid-air death traps."

She huffed out a laugh. "Appreciate it."

Levi glanced up at the night sky, then back at her. "We should head back before someone thinks I dragged you out here to train."

Valeria smirked. "Wouldn’t be the worst assumption."

Levi didn’t respond at first, but as they walked, he finally broke the silence. "You know, for someone who spends all their time working on ODM gear, you should probably practice using it more."

Valeria glanced at him, intrigued. "You think so? I’ve spent most of my time hands on with my father with his work, I never really thought about using it except for lectures of course. But that’s all groundwork, what better use would I be if I’m just tinkering and teaching."

His gaze fixed ahead. "You understand the mechanics better than most. If you trained more, you’d be useful in the field. If anything, I can give you some tips to practice handling it better."

She considered his words, mulling them over. "Are you saying I should start training with the Survey Corps?"
Levi shrugged. "Not my call. But if you want people to trust your work, it wouldn't hurt if they knew you could handle yourself with it too."
Valeria smirked. "Coming from you, that almost sounds like a compliment."
Levi side-eyed her but didn’t argue. "Just think about it. And I'd like to thank you for the new gear. I'd be sure to use it in action and provide any feedback after this next expedition. "

The morning sun barely crested the walls of the Survey Corps headquarters, its golden light stretched thin across the training fields where the final preparations for the expedition were underway. Soldiers moved with brisk efficiency, checking straps, adjusting harnesses, and murmuring quietly among themselves.

Among them, Levi stood at the far end of the field, his presence as composed and commanding as ever. His newly modified ODM gear was secured in place, its sleek adjustments almost imperceptible to an untrained eye. The reinforced grappling mechanisms, the fine-tuned propulsion system, everything had been designed with his precision in mind. He adjusted the fit of the control unit at his waist with a practiced flick of his wrist, testing the tension in the cables with a subtle pull.

A few recruits nearby stole glances at him, curiosity flickering in their expressions. They had seen him move before, but there was a distinct weight to the moment—an unspoken expectation that when he finally engaged the gear, it would be something worth remembering.
Hanji let out a low whistle from where she stood beside Erwin near the central staging area. "Damn. Even standing still, it’s like he’s already calculating ten different ways to cut through the air. It’s a little terrifying, honestly." She pushed her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose, eyes gleaming with intrigue. "Valeria’s upgrades must be something special."

Erwin’s gaze lingered on Levi, his expression unreadable but contemplative. "If the modifications hold as well as expected, we’ll be looking at a significant refinement in maneuverability and endurance. Reduced strain, improved speed, and better precision could be a tactical advantage we’ve never had before."

Before Hanji could respond, movement from the entrance of the barracks caught their attention. Valeria approached, her pace brisk but controlled, her satchel slung over her shoulder heavier than usual. She was dressed in her work attire—her practical engineer’s uniform—but today, the weight of her role felt different. She wasn’t just an observer. She was part of this.
“I have something for you,” she called, stepping closer.

Hanji’s eyes lit up immediately. “Ooooh, is this what I think it is?”

Valeria gave a small, knowing smile before reaching into her satchel. She pulled out a carefully wrapped bundle and handed it to Hanji first. “For you something to enhance your observations during the expedition.”
Hanji wasted no time, unwrapping the bundle to reveal a sleek, modified pair of glasses. The frame was reinforced, but it was the small, adjustable dial at the side that made Hanji gasp in delight.

“Adaptive lenses?!” Hanji practically shouted, adjusting them over her eyes. She turned the dial and let out a delighted laugh as her vision shifted seamlessly between long-distance clarity and detailed close-up focus. “This is—this is amazing! I don’t even have to swap my glasses out anymore! Valeria, I could kiss you.”

Valeria chuckled. “I’d prefer credit for my work instead.”

Hanji grinned, adjusting the glasses again. "Oh, I’ll do both."

Erwin watched the exchange with quiet intrigue, his gaze flickering to Valeria with a faint look of expectation.

She smirked slightly, reaching back into her satchel. “And for you, Commander.”

She handed him a modified ODM control unit, along with a schematic detailing its features. “I designed a new counterbalance system for your gear. It will help maintain endurance over longer periods without sacrificing control. The reinforced cables will provide smoother movement, and the braking system has been fine-tuned for mid-air positioning.”

Erwin studied the device in his hands before his gaze lifted to meet hers. His eyes held something that wasn’t just gratitude. “You considered everything,” he murmured.

Valeria shrugged lightly. “I had a lot to work with. You rely on strategy and adaptability more than sheer speed, so I wanted to optimize that.”
Hanji elbowed Erwin playfully. “She knows you well, Commander.”
Levi, who had been listening quietly, adjusted his gloves. "All this talk, but let’s see how they hold up in action."

Hanji nudged Valeria with her elbow. “You really outdid yourself. You really tailored it to who we are.”

Valeria met her gaze, something unreadable flickering in her expression. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You each have strengths that make a difference. I just wanted to make sure your tools reflected that.”
Erwin closed the control unit in his hands, his fingers brushing over the fine details of its construction, “You’ve done more for us than you realize.” His voice was quieter now, but there was no mistaking the weight behind it.

The final calls rang out, a sharp series of commands punctuating the early morning air. Hooves clattered against the stone courtyard as horses shifted, their breaths forming thin clouds in the cool air. The crisp scent of damp earth and leather filled Valeria’s lungs as she took in the sight before her rows of soldiers making final checks, adjusting their straps, murmuring quiet reassurances to one another.

Among them, Erwin stood near his horse, his sharp gaze sweeping across the troops, taking in every detail with the precision of a strategist who had already planned for every possible outcome. He exuded the steady, calculated authority that made him their leader, but for the first time, Valeria caught the faintest flicker of something else a moment of pause, of quiet weight, before he turned back to her.

Valeria steadied herself, her fingers brushing absently over the satchel at her side, knowing she had done all she could. But knowing and believing were two different things.

She took a step forward, letting her voice carry over the murmurs of the assembled recruits.

She turned toward them, her expression composed but warm. “You’re all about to step into something unpredictable,” she said, her voice carrying over the murmurs. “But your training, your instincts, and your trust in each other will see you through. I may not be riding out there with you, but my work will be.”

A few of the newer recruits straightened at her words, a flicker of confidence sparking in their eyes.

Hanji, already adjusting the dials on her new lenses, gave Valeria a dramatic salute. “Don’t miss me too much, Val. Try not to build something groundbreaking while I’m gone, or I’ll feel left out.”

Valeria smirked. “No promises.”

The mechanism engaged with a sharp click from Levi’s wrist, the cables taut and responsive. He nodded once. “If your modifications slow me down, I’m coming straight back here.”

Valeria rolled her eyes. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Levi exhaled through his nose, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Last night, when I mentioned how you knew your way around ODM gear better than most.” His gaze flickered to her hands, still bearing faint smudges of graphite and oil from her late-night adjustments. “You put into thought?”

She blinked, caught slightly off guard. “I—”

He tilted his head slightly, scrutinizing her. “I meant what I said. You tweak everyone else’s gear, but you’ve barely tested your own work firsthand. You should get out there—push it like we do.”

Valeria folded her arms, arching a brow at Levi. “And what, you expect me to just start swinging around the training field like a reckless recruit?”
Levi shrugged. “Tch. You wouldn’t be reckless if you knew what you were doing.”

For all the time she had spent refining ODM mechanics, watching others use them, calculating how to optimize movement, she had never truly pushed herself to master it.

Valeria exhaled, glancing at her satchel full of blueprints. “I’ll think about it.”

Levi scoffed, securing the last of his gear. “You do that. Just don’t take too long.”

She chuckles turning to Erwin, meeting his steady gaze. He stood with his usual composure, but there was something beneath it—something thoughtful, something unspoken. He inclined his head slightly. “Your contributions make this expedition stronger. We’ll see the results firsthand soon enough.”

She took a step back, exhaling as she clasped her hands behind her back. “Then that’s all I can ask for.”

The final calls rang out, signaling the last moments before departure. Horses neighed, their riders settling into their saddles. The air shifted, heavy with the gravity of what lay ahead.

Valeria took one last glance at the group before offering a final, steady farewell. “Safe travels. And don’t make me regret trusting you with my best work.”

Erwin gave her one last look before mounting his horse. Hanji shot her a wink, adjusting her new glasses one final time, and Levi pulled his hood over his head, tightening the straps of his ODM gear with practiced precision.

The sound of hooves striking stone filled the air as the formation moved forward, their figures outlined against the rising sun. The massive iron gate loomed ahead, its towering frame casting long shadows across the ground. The creak of its hinges groaned through the still morning, a slow, deliberate opening that marked the threshold between the known and the unknown.

The wind picked up, carrying the scent of the open fields beyond the walls. Beyond the gate, the land stretched vast and untamed—rolling hills, patches of dense forest in the distance, and the ever-present reminder of what lay ahead. The soldiers tightened their grips on their reins, the reality of their mission settling over them like a second skin.

As the first wave of riders passed through the archway, the morning light painted their silhouettes in stark relief against the vastness beyond. Erwin led the charge, his presence unwavering, followed closely by Hanji, whose restless energy had given way to a more focused determination. Levi remained near the vanguard, his expression unreadable beneath his cloak, his ODM gear secured for rapid deployment the moment it was needed.

Valeria stood at the edge of the courtyard, watching as they disappeared through the gate, the dust kicked up by galloping hooves swirling in their wake.

And then, just like that, they were gone.
The iron gates groaned shut behind them, their heavy clang reverberating through the stone walls.

The courtyard was empty now, eerily still.

Valeria lingered, her hands tightening at her sides. She had given them her best work—reinforced, recalibrated, perfected. But standing there, watching them vanish beyond the safety of the walls, she couldn't shake the feeling that it still wasn’t enough.

Her fingers brushed absently against the edge of her ODM gear, the thought gnawing at her.

For all her knowledge, all her skill, there was still one thing she hadn’t done.

With a final breath, she turned back toward the workshop.

It was time she learned to wield her own creations.

Chapter Text

Valeria sat on the worn wooden floor, legs tucked beneath her as she watched her father work. The soft golden glow of late afternoon light filtered through the workshop’s tiny window, illuminating the metallic sheen of the half-assembled ODM prototype in his hands. His calloused fingers moved deftly, adjusting the tension in the wires, his expression of quiet focus. The harness hung from a stand, its imperfect design filled with promise.

"A good engineer knows the mechanics," he murmured, tightening a latch with practiced ease. "But a great one understands the person using them."

Valeria’s small hands curled around a spare gear, the intricate grooves pressing into her fingertips. "You mean the soldiers?"

Her father nodded, glancing down at her with a knowing smile. "Well, yes. If you don’t think about the person wearing their instincts, strengths, and fears, you're just assembling parts. Get to know your clients, as they say."

She watched in fascination as he tested the mechanisms, his motions fluid and exact. The rhythmic click of metal echoed softly against the wooden walls. Through the cracked window, distant voices rang out—commands shouted, the unmistakable whir of ODM gear cutting through the air. Valeria turned her head, catching glimpses of soldiers soaring high above the training grounds, their silhouettes slicing through the sky like birds of prey.

"Would you ever want to try it?" her father asked suddenly, his voice thoughtful.

Valeria blinked up at him, startled. "Me? No way. That’s for soldiers. I’d rather stay here and build."

Her father chuckled, reaching out to tousle her hair before setting down his tools. "You never know, my little angel. One day, you might find yourself needing to fly."

---------------------------

The memory clung to Valeria like the scent of oil and steel. She sat at her workbench, fingers absently tracing the edge of her latest blueprint, her mind a tangled web of uncertainty. Her father’s words echoed through her thoughts, more persistent than ever. Back then, she had been so sure of her place—content in the safety of creation rather than the dangers of combat.

Now, the lines between the two blurred.

She had stood at the gates that morning, watching the Survey Corps disappear beyond the walls, their figures vanishing into the vast unknown. Her handiwork was strapped to their backs, her modifications woven into their movements.

Could I be satisfied staying behind, improving from the sidelines, knowing I’d never truly understand the weight of what they faced?
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts—gentle yet firm.
"Enter," she called, pushing aside her tools.

Commander Pixis stepped inside, his ever-present flask dangling from his fingers. His sharp gaze swept over the organized chaos of her workshop—the scattered blueprints, the half-assembled parts, the lingering scent of metal and ink—before settling on her.

"Glad to see you keeping busy," he remarked, his tone casual but observant. "Did you watch the scouts leave this morning?"

Valeria exhaled, rolling a loose bolt between her fingertips. "Yeah, I saw them off. I spent time with them before they left, wishing them luck. I also modified their new gear—hopefully, it all works well out there."
Pixis hummed, stepping further inside. "You’ve grown quite close to them. Yet, you seem troubled."

She smiled faintly. "You always read me too well." There was no point in pretending otherwise. She hesitated before finally voicing the thought circling her mind all morning. "It’s… strange. Watching them leave. I’ve spent so long making sure they have the best tools, but I’ve never used them the way they do. I don’t know if I ever could."

Pixis took a seat across from her, setting his flask aside. "You’ve built a place for yourself here, Valeria. Your work has saved lives. But I’d be a fool not to see the shift in your eyes." He leaned forward slightly. "Are you considering joining them?"

She stiffened, fingers tightening around the edge of the blueprint. "The thought has crossed my mind," she admitted.

Pixis waved a hand dismissively. "No need for hasty answers. But it’s worth thinking about. The Survey Corps is no place for hesitation. If you step into their world, you step into uncertainty, danger, and sacrifice." He studied her carefully, his gaze thoughtful. "And yet, something tells me that staying behind is beginning to feel just as uncertain."

Valeria swallowed hard, her nails lightly tapping against the workbench. "It’s not that simple. I know I’m valuable here. I like it here. But…" she hesitated, struggling to find the words.

"But you wonder if it’s enough," Pixis finished for her.

Silence stretched between them. Outside, the faint clang of steel on steel signaled the recruits to continue their drills. Valeria exhaled, running a hand through her hair.

Pixis broke the silence, standing and adjusting his coat. "Your father always spoke highly of you. He said you had the makings of someone who could change things." His eyes flickered to the pieces laid out before her. “Perhaps it’s time you decide how you want to change them."

Valeria bit her lip, nodding slightly. "I’ll think about it."

Pixis smiled, tipping his flask slightly before turning toward the door. As he left, Valeria stared down at the blueprint beneath her hands. The outlines of her newest ODM modifications blurred as her mind spiraled deeper into thought.

The training grounds stretched before her, silent under the pale morning light. A crisp breeze rustled through the trees, the usual chatter of recruits absent now that the soldiers had departed for their expedition. Valeria stood at the edge of the field, her ODM gear strapped securely to her waist, the familiar weight settling against her hips.

She had spent years modifying, adjusting, and perfecting the mechanics of ODM movement. She had instructed others, observed countless demonstrations, and advised soldiers on precision and efficiency.
But she had never indeed taken flight herself.

Her fingers hovered over the trigger mechanism. The moment stretched as uncertainty curled in her stomach.

"You never know, my little angel. One day, you might find yourself needing to fly."

Her father’s voice echoed in her mind, and suddenly, she was back in his workshop, smaller hands gripping the cold steel of unfinished ODM gear.

--flashback--

The harness had been slightly oversized, the straps digging into her shoulders as she stood in front of the small training rig her father had built. He had fastened the cables to the beams overhead, testing their weight before stepping back.

"Alright, let’s see how you handle the basics," he said, arms crossed as he watched her fidget with the grips.

Valeria’s lips pressed into a thin line. "I don’t know if this is a good idea."
Her father smirked. "You say that every time we try something new."
She exhaled sharply, tightening her grip on the triggers. "Because every time, you expect me to fail first."

"And what happens after you fail?" he asked, tilting his head.

Valeria hesitated before muttering, "I get better."

His smile widened. "Exactly. Now, take a breath and engage the gas."

Valeria inhaled, steeling herself. Then, the propulsion system activated with a sharp press of the triggers, sending her swinging upward. For a split second, she felt the rush of momentum—but then, the cables t
wisted, her trajectory wavered, and—

Crash.

She hit the padded flooring with an unceremonious thud.

Her father winced. "Hmm. Not bad for a first try."

Valeria groaned, pushing herself up. "That was awful."

"No, that was a lesson," he corrected, kneeling beside her. "You panicked mid-air. You focused on height instead of control. You have to let the movement guide you, not fight against it." He tapped the harness lightly.

"Again. But this time, trust the gear."

Valeria’s breath came in steady, measured intervals, fogging slightly in the crisp morning air. Trust the gear.

She gripped the triggers.

A sharp hiss of compressed gas burst through the quiet, sending twin steel hooks flying into the sky. They struck home, embedding deep into the highest support beam of the towering practice structure. A split second later, the cables snapped taut, yanking her body upward with a force that compressed her lungs and stole the breath from her throat.

The familiar weightlessness followed.

The wind roared past her ears, sending strands of her hair whipping wildly around her face. Below, the ground blurred, replaced by a dizzying rush of sky and movement. The world tilted on its axis, but her instincts took control. With a firm pull, she retracted her cables and adjusted her weight mid-air, rolling her shoulders to distribute the momentum evenly.

She fired again, launching herself higher. This time, her form was sharper, her arc controlled.

Faster. More precise.

The metal mechanisms clicked with each pull of the triggers, each shot finding its mark. She didn’t hesitate—didn’t allow herself to. Every move had to be fluid, automatic, second nature. The modifications she had spent weeks perfecting hummed beneath her fingertips, responding like an extension of her own body.

The wooden training dummies loomed below, marked “napes,” waiting like an invitation.

She exhaled sharply. This isn’t just a movement anymore. It’s combat.
Valeria twisted mid-air, disengaging her right hook while firing her left into a lower beam. The shift in trajectory sent her into a rapid downward spiral—faster, sharper, more dangerous. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she felt gravity yank at her limbs, her coat flaring behind her like the wings of a diving hawk.

The first target approached fast.

Adapt.

She gritted her teeth and pulled a blade free from its holster. The weight of it settled into her palm, its cool steel grounding her as she adjusted her aim. With a sharp snap of her wrist, she disengaged the hook a fraction of a second before impact, propelling herself forward in an instant burst of gas.

Her blade met the wood with a violent crack.

Splinters exploded into the air as the nape of the dummy caved under the force of her strike. The impact rattled through her arm, but she didn’t stop to revel in the success—there was no time.

Keep moving.

Valeria fired again, swinging wide to the left, barely avoiding one of the towering support beams. She twisted, using the angle to propel herself toward her next target. This one was positioned between a set of vertical poles, a mock simulation of forested terrain. The narrow gap meant she’d have to be quick—one miscalculation and she’d collide headfirst into an unforgiving pillar of wood.

She fired a set of hooks, using one as an anchor while twisting mid-flight. The sudden force sent her into a tight spin, and she barely missed the pole as she maneuvered through the gap. Her chest burned with exertion, but she kept her movements fluid and her grip steady.

Another dummy waited just below her, angled lower to the ground.

Use the force of descent.

She released a burst of gas, sending herself into a reckless dive. The wind tore at her face, and for a fleeting second, she felt free-falling.

She fired her hooks into a far beam at the last moment, yanking herself back just before colliding with the earth. The force of the motion swung her body into a near-inverted position beneath the target. She reacted instinctively, her blade flashing upward in a calculated arc.

Crack.

The strike was clean. The wooden nape shattered into pieces as she shot past.

This is what it means to fight.

Her breath came faster now, her pulse roaring in her ears as she disengaged the cables and flipped mid-air. She landed on a high beam, her boots skidding slightly against the polished wood before she steadied herself.

The field below her was littered with broken targets; some were cut cleanly, and others slightly miscalculated her angles. It wasn’t perfect—but it was progress.

She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her gloved hand, her fingers still trembling from the adrenaline rush.

This wasn’t just theory anymore. This was real.

Her father’s words echoed in the back of her mind.

"One day, you might find yourself needing to fly."

Maybe he had been right all along.

Valeria inhaled deeply, the crisp morning air cooling the heat in her lungs. She flexed her fingers, letting them settle once more over the familiar weight of the triggers.

-- Trio Squad POV--

The wind howled across the open plains, snaking through the Survey Corps' formation as they pressed beyond the safety of the walls. The sky yawned wide above them, dawn’s pale light barely cutting through the heavy cloak of drifting clouds. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, but something lingered beneath it—something far more unsettling, like decay carried on the breeze.

The steady rhythm of galloping hooves against hardened earth thrummed through Erwin’s bones. His sharp blue eyes scanned the horizon with unwavering focus, calculating, adjusting, and preparing for every possible contingency. The weight of command settled heavily on his shoulders, but he carried it with practiced ease. His ODM gear felt subtly different, Valeria's minor modifications were nearly imperceptible in stillness. Still in motion, the enhancements were undeniable. Increased endurance, finer balance. It was meticulous work that could make the difference between survival and annihilation. He silently acknowledged her efforts, knowing these refinements would soon be thoroughly tested.

A few meters ahead, Levi led his specialized squad, his keen gaze locked onto the terrain. Even on horseback, his movements remained precise, fingers flexing over the triggers of his gear testing, measuring, adjusting. He had already examined Valeria’s modifications firsthand. Lighter hooks, sharper blades, an efficiency that suited him. He shifted slightly in the saddle, allowing himself the smallest nod of approval.
Not bad, Valeria.

To his right, Hanji rode slightly ahead of her squad, adjusting her new lenses with an almost childlike fascination.

"I swear, I can see the veins on that hawk’s wings," she muttered, fingers spinning the dial. "This is phenomenal. Valeria outdid herself. I’ll have to give her a full report when we return."

Levi scoffed. "If we return."

Hanji cast him a sharp glance but didn’t argue. The weight of reality never left their side.

The cry from the vanguard shattered the tense quiet. "Titans spotted! Three o’clock!"

Erwin’s grip on the reins tightened. His voice cut through the wind, steady and commanding. "Engage! Maintain formation! Do not overextend!"
Levi was already in motion before the last command left Erwin’s lips, his gear hissing as he propelled himself forward. His squad followed seamlessly, breaking into smaller units as they maneuvered through the trees and over the uneven terrain. The modifications engaged effortlessly—lighter, faster, and more responsive.

The first Titan barely had time to react before cold steel carved through its nape. A flash of silver. A spurt of steaming blood. The body collapsed, shaking the ground beneath them.

Nearby, Hanji’s squad struck with ruthless precision. Her enhanced lenses allowed her to pinpoint weaknesses mid-air, calculating angles with surgical efficiency. "Target their knees first! Slow them down before going for the kill!" she ordered, adjusting her focus in real time.

Her squad moved like clockwork, carving through Titans with terrifying efficiency. The exhilaration in her voice was unmistakable. "These upgrades are unreal! I need to tell Valeria—"
Another cry split the air. "More Titans! Left flank! Their movements, something’s different!"

Erwin’s expression darkened. The Titans weren’t moving with their usual erratic nature. Their coordination had an eerie deliberation, a calculated aggression that set his instincts on edge. He pulled the reins hard, bringing his squad into a tighter defensive stance.
"Regroup! Defensive formation! Hold your ground until we know what we’re dealing with!"

His squad reacted instantly, forming a defensive perimeter. He watched as the Titans adapted, shifting their attention toward the weaker riders and redirecting their charge. His mind worked at breakneck speed, evaluating strategies: "Fallback in pairs! Rotate attackers! Keep them from surrounding us!"

Hanji’s squad had already picked up on the shift. "They’re learning," she murmured, brows furrowing. "But that’s impossible…"

Levi took in the Titans' erratic yet disturbingly deliberate movement from above. His instincts screamed at him. Something was very wrong. He turned his head toward Erwin, his voice sharp as he called out.
"Erwin! They’re starting to adapt."

Erwin’s grip on his reins tightened. If this was something new, something they hadn’t accounted for, the mission had become exponentially more dangerous.

Chapter Text

Her large chalkboard stood on its dark surface, already crowded with sketches of Titan musculature, speculative notes on movement patterns, and hastily scrawled theories. A piece of chalk twirled idly between her fingers as she examined her latest hypothesis. Her notes outlined behavioral inconsistencies. Titans deviated from standard attack patterns and shifted into reactive positions that hinted at something beyond mindless aggression.

She reached for her notebook, flipping to a page marked with red ink. Shifts in attack trajectory, increased precision in targeting, and delayed reactions before engaging the patterns, subtle yet undeniable, pointed toward something more complex than instinctual behavior. If these anomalies continued to surface, the Titans would start to adapt.
Valeria exhaled sharply and pressed the chalk to the board, underlining a question she had yet to answer: What is the catalyst?

Her fingers traced over a crude sketch of a Titan’s neural pathways, the rough lines interwoven with annotations on possible external stimuli.
Could it be environmental? A result of prolonged exposure to human combat strategies, or was there something more profound, fundamental within their biology that was evolving?

She stepped back, brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, and studied the board from afar. The thought of evolution was unnerving yet thrilling. If she could understand the mechanisms behind it and pinpoint the driving force of their behavioral shifts, the war against the Titans could shift in their favor.

She moved to her desk, pushing aside stacks of old reports and opening a prominent, leather-bound journal filled with field observations from past expeditions. Her fingers traced over hastily scribbled notes, cross-referencing them with her new findings. The trends were faint, but they were there. More coordinated movement redirected aggression, and brief hesitations, subtle yet deliberate, hinted at strategic decision-making. If Titans could refine their combat strategies, humanity’s tactics wouldn’t be ineffective—they’d be outdated before the next battle.

The low groan of the gates echoed through the air, their massive iron hinges grinding against the stone as they creaked open. The wind carried the scent of dust and sweat. Valeria froze from her position, with chalk still clutched in her fingers. Jolting up, she sensed that her intuition was confirmed.

The scouts returned.

Stretching from her chair, she looked at her notes and the work she spent her morning on. "I've done more work than I needed to be doing," she chuckles.

She pressed forward, weaving through the shifting bodies of soldiers and officers moving toward the entrance. The streets were alive with murmurs, boots scuffing against worn cobblestone as stable hands rushed to take the exhausted horses. The weight of the recent expedition clung to the returning soldiers, their cloaks and armor streaked with grime, their faces marked by fatigue.

She caught sight of them before she even reached the center of activity.

Dust and exhaustion clung to the air as soldiers rode in, their horses heaving beneath the weight of travel and battle. The usual murmurs of bystanders, stable hands, and medical personnel stirred the atmosphere into a quiet hum of tension.

Valeria stood near the edge of the barracks, fingers curled into the fabric of her coat. The sight before her was unfamiliar but never grew easier to witness. Cloaks torn, armor dented, faces drawn tight with fatigue, each return was a reminder of what lay beyond the walls. The unspoken tally of those who would not return weighed heavily, reflected in the lowered gazes of those who had survived.

Her eyes found Erwin. He dismounted with practiced ease, his usual composure intact, yet the stiffness in his movements betrayed the strain of command. His uniform was streaked with dust, his gloves marked with dried blood—whether his own or another’s, she didn’t know. His sharp gaze swept across the formation, taking in the state of his soldiers, his mind undoubtedly already shifting to the next step.

She wanted to approach and ask about the mission. An officer stepped forward before she could move, relaying urgent reports. Erwin nodded, his expression unreadable as he listened, then turned sharply toward the command building. There was no hesitation. There was no rest.

A familiar voice broke her focus.

“They came back in worse shape than usual,” Hanji murmured beside her, adjusting her glasses. The lenses gleamed in the dim afternoon light. “What we encountered out there wasn’t routine.”

Valeria exhaled, watching Levi stride past them. His usual indifference masked something more profound. He was efficient in his exhaustion, but there was an unmistakable edge to his movements, a tension coiled beneath his restraint.

“Are they calling a debrief?” Valeria asked.
Hanji nodded. “Yes, pretty much immediately. They need answers and fast.”

The room was filled with a stifling quiet, the kind that settled before the weight of information shifted the course of battle. Maps, scattered reports, and hastily scribbled notes littered the wooden table, illuminated by the flickering glow of lantern light.

Erwin stood at the head, his fingers pressed lightly against the tabletop, gaze sweeping over the gathered officers. Levi leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, watching with a practiced neutrality that did little to mask his unease. Hanji, seated beside Valeria, was already flipping through her notes, her brows furrowed in deep concentration.

Nile sat opposite Erwin, his expression tight. “From what I’ve been told,” he began, voice clipped, “this wasn’t a standard Titan encounter. You lost more men than usual.”

Erwin’s response was measured. “It wasn’t an ambush. Not in the way we’ve experienced before. Their movements were coordinated.”

Valeria stiffened, her fingers tightening around her pen.

“Coordinated?” Nile’s brow arched. “They’re mindless. They don’t ‘coordinate.’”

Levi scoffed. “You weren’t there.”

Erwin continued his voice even. “They adjusted to our formations. Pushed us into defensive positions, targeting our vulnerable points more precisely than before.”

Hanji leaned forward, adjusting her glasses. “That aligns with recent behavioral patterns we’ve been tracking delayed reactions, calculated strikes, brief moments where they seem to be… thinking.”

Nile’s expression darkened. “You’re suggesting they’re evolving?”

Valeria cleared her throat, drawing their attention. “I don't think it's just a suggestion,” she murmured, pushing a set of notes forward. “I’ve been documenting changes in Titan response times and their shifting attack patterns. The trends were subtle at first, but they’ve become more pronounced. This isn’t a random chance.” Silence settled over the table.

Erwin took the notes without hesitation, his sharp gaze scanning the pages with a quiet intensity. The lantern light flickered over his features, casting shadows that only deepened the furrow of his brow. Valeria resisted the urge to fidget under the weight of his scrutiny, though she could feel the unspoken tension filling the space between them.
He wasn’t reading, he was studying her work, absorbing it like any vital piece of intelligence.

After a long pause, he set the notes down carefully, his fingers resting against the edges as if weighing his next words. “You compiled this on your own?”

Valeria nodded, her voice measured. “I started noticing irregularities in their behavior months ago through Hanji's journal. At first, I thought it was just a coincidence, but the patterns kept repeating. The trend became more evident when I cross-referenced past expedition reports with recent field observations.”
Erwin’s gaze lingered on her, his expression unreadable yet distinctly aware.

Nile scoffed, shifting in his seat. “And you kept this to yourself? Why not bring it to command earlier?”

Valeria’s jaw tightened. “Because speculation isn’t enough. I wasn’t going to waste resources on half-formed theories. But after this last expedition… it seems it's no longer a theory.”

A beat of silence passed. Then, to her surprise, Erwin spoke again, his voice quieter this time.

“You’re certain of this?” There was no challenge in his tone, only something thoughtful, almost curious.

She met his gaze without hesitation. “I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t.”

He leaned back slightly, his fingers curling against the table in thought.

Hanji, flipping through the documents, whistled low. “She’s got something. If these behavioral shifts are as deliberate as her research suggests, we’re looking at a bigger problem than just a handful of smarter Titans.”

She adjusted her glasses, tilting the papers toward the lantern’s glow. "I’ve seen some of these notes before. Valeria’s been meticulously cross-referencing expedition reports, analyzing the smaller details most people wouldn’t consider documenting. This isn’t a passing curiosity."

She turned to Valeria with a knowing smirk. “You should have told me you were going to bring this up. I would’ve added the field notes I shared with you last month. You know, the ones where we saw odd pause behavior during encounters?”

Valeria let out a short breath, her lips curving slightly. “I thought about it but wanted to see if my independent observations aligned before putting it forward.”

Hanji hummed in approval, then turned back to Erwin. “Honestly, I was waiting to see when she’d crack and spill. It was bound to happen between the all-nighters she pulled and how she’s practically inhaled my old expedition journals.” Valeria shot her a dry look, but Hanji only grinned.

Levi, leaning back against the wall, scoffed. “What, she’s been losing sleep over Titans now? Thought that was just your problem.”

Hanji shrugged. “What can I say? She has the instincts of a researcher.”

Erwin, who had remained silent through this exchange, shifted slightly, his fingers still resting on the edge of the documents. If Hanji noticed the flicker of intrigue in his expression, she didn’t immediately comment on it. She continued flipping through the notes, speaking offhandedly.

“You know we might as well assign her a permanent desk in my office.” She cast Valeria a glance, her voice lighter but still pointed.

At that, Erwin’s gaze finally lifted from the pages, his eyes meeting Valeria’s with an unreadable weight. The room was still thick with discussion, but for a moment, Hanji caught it, the slightest pause in his otherwise composed expression, the flicker of something than professional interest.

She tapped her fingers against the table in thought, her gaze flickering between them before a slow, knowing smile tugged at her lips.
“Oh,” she murmured, barely audible over the conversation. “Interesting.”

Erwin exhaled through his nose, nodding once. “Then we need to prepare accordingly.”

Pixis, quietly listening, let out a thoughtful hum before taking a slow sip from his ever-present flask. “Fascinating,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with something that resembled amusement. “Valeria, my dear, if you weren’t already earning your keep with your fine craftsmanship, I’d say you were wasting your talents by not taking up strategy full-time.”

Valeria, caught off guard by the sudden attention, cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t go that far, Commander. I just… I’ve spent time looking at the patterns. Something didn’t sit right, and now we have confirmation.”

Nile sat with his arms crossed, his expression skeptical as he glanced over the reports. “This all hinges on the idea that Titans can adapt at this level. Coordinated behavior is one thing, and strategic response is another.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at Erwin. “If what you’re saying is true, then the defenses, formations, all of it are completely inadequate.”
Erwin met his gaze evenly. “That is precisely why we need to account for the possibility now before we find ourselves outmaneuvered on a larger scale.”

Nile’s frown deepened. “And you’re basing this on field observations and independent research?”

Hanji cut in before Valeria could respond. “She’s been studying Titan behavior patterns for weeks, Nile. I’ve seen her notes, and she’s cross-referenced them with old expedition records. The similarities are too frequent to ignore.” She adjusted her glasses and tilted her head toward Valeria with an approving smirk. “She’s not throwing theories into the wind.”

Pixis let out a dry chuckle. “Well, that would be a first in one of these meetings.”

That earned a brief smile from Levi, but Erwin remained focused. “What concerns me most,” he continued, placing a hand over the latest field map, “is that their movements forced us into a disadvantageous position. That was not by accident.”

Pixis hummed, his fingers tapping against his flask. “And what do you propose you will do about it? If these creatures truly adapt, we may look at an entirely different situation.”

Valeria straightened slightly, hesitant but resolute. “I think it starts with how we analyze their movements going forward. If this continues, we must record their patterns more meticulously, including time, positioning, and decision-making points.” Her fingers drummed against the table. “I could help develop better tracking systems, maybe even something to anticipate their movement shifts before we’re caught off guard.”

Nile exhaled sharply. “You’re talking about predicting Titans as if they were enemy soldiers.”

Valeria met his gaze without wavering. “Maybe we should start treating them as such.”

Silence settled over the room, the weight of her words sinking in. Hanji, rather than dismissing the notion, leaned back in her chair, clearly considering it. Pixis raised an eyebrow, looking more intrigued than surprised, while Levi, ever unreadable, simply observed. Erwin watched her carefully.

There was something measured in his gaze, something assessing. It was as if something unspoken had shifted between them when she spoke up, presented her work, and stood by her conclusions.

Hanji broke the silence. “Well, I, for one, would love to see how that plays out. Could you imagine? Anticipating Titans before they anticipate us?” She grinned, but the amusement didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’d be the first real advantage we’ve had in years.”

Pixis sighed, rubbing his temple. “That’s if you survive long enough to test the theory.” Nile still didn’t look entirely convinced, but his expression had shifted from dismissive to contemplative.

“We’ll adjust,” Erwin finished. “As we always do.”

Valeria exhaled, forcing her shoulders to relax as she glanced at the papers before them. She had expected pushback, even expected doubt.

--------------

The meeting room emptied, leaving behind only scattered documents and the lingering tension of unresolved questions. The heavy wooden doors creaked as Hanji gathered her notes, adjusting her glasses thoughtfully. Levi, ever efficient, leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, the subtle tap of his gloved finger against his elbow betraying his lingering thoughts.

“Well, that was enlightening,” Hanji mused, flipping through her pages.

“Coordinated Titan movement, predictive behavior, it’s as if they’re testing us now.” She shot a glance at Valeria. “Your data lined up exactly with what we observed. You’ve been studying this for a while, haven’t you?”

Valeria nodded, her posture straight, but her mind still processing the implications of the meeting. “The patterns were subtle at first, almost imperceptible. But when I started cross-referencing old reports, it became clear that their behavior wasn’t random.” She tapped a pen against the edge of her notebook. “We might have been attributing certain anomalies to chance, but the numbers tell a different story.”

Levi exhaled sharply, pushing himself off the wall. “Tch. Doesn’t change the fact that we’re still walking into the unknown every time we leave those gates.” His gaze flicked briefly to Erwin before he adjusted. “I need to check on the recruits.” His tone was neutral, but there was an unspoken understanding in his words.

Hanji stretched, tucking her notes under her arm. “And I have several calculations to adjust. I will compare older Titan's behavior with what we saw this time. If the acceleration of their adaptation follows a pattern, we might be able to predict their next change.” She turned to Valeria, eyes gleaming. “I’d love your help with the analysis later.”

“Of course,” Valeria said, grateful for the distraction.

Hanji’s grin widened. “Wonderful. Don’t work too hard before I run back.” With that, she and Levi made their way out, their discussion already shifting to troop formations and gear adjustments.

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the room in silence.

Valeria turned slightly, expecting Erwin to take his leave as well, but instead, he lingered near the window. His fingers drummed lightly against the tabletop, gaze distant. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured.

“You were prepared.”

She tilted her head. “I'm sorry?”

“For the meeting,” Erwin clarified, facing her fully. “Your research. The way you presented it. You anticipated these developments before we had concrete proof. That takes more than just diligence—it takes foresight.” His expression remained unreadable, but there was something deliberate in his tone. “It was impressive.”

Valeria hesitated before replying, unsure of how to take the compliment. “I just followed the data. It didn’t feel like foresight it felt inevitable.”

Erwin gave the slightest nod, his gaze sharp. “That’s exactly why it matters. You saw the shift before we experienced it firsthand.” He glanced at the notes she still held. “You don’t have to be on the battlefield to change the course of this fight.”

She shifted slightly. “Maybe not. But being in the field provides insights I can’t get from behind a desk.”

A pause. Erwin studied her before finally speaking again. “Which brings us to your ODM gear modifications.”

Valeria straightened. “Right. I assume you’ve gathered some feedback?”

Erwin nodded. “I took notes from those who used them in the field, including Levi and Hanji. Your adjustments performed as expected, greater maneuverability, reduced gas expenditure, and improved grappling efficiency.” He folded his arms. “But you already knew that.”

She exhaled, “I ran multiple tests before handing them over. Theoretically, everything should have worked. But I’d still like to hear specifics. Was there anything unexpected?”

Erwin stepped closer, reaching into his coat. Judging by precise, almost aggressive handwriting, he retrieved a set of notes from Levi’s. “Levi noted an improvement in acceleration but mentioned a slight imbalance in weight distribution when adjusting mid-air. He compensated quickly, but for less experienced users, the adjustment curve might be an issue.”

Valeria frowned, flipping through her own schematics in her mind. “That shouldn’t have been the case. The materials I used were meant to counterbalance—” She paused, catching the way Erwin watched her with quiet amusement. “What?”

“You’re already troubleshooting.”

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Of course I am. If it can be improved, it should be.”

Erwin nodded approvingly. “I expected as much.” He handed her another note—this one from Hanji. “She reported the adaptive lenses worked even better than anticipated. She was able to track Titan movement mid-battle with minimal refocusing time.”

“That’s good,” Valeria murmured, making mental notes.
Erwin hesitated momentarily before adding, “And as for my own, your counterbalance adjustments made long-term ODM usage significantly more efficient. The reduction in strain was noticeable.”

Valeria met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them. He wasn’t focusing on feedback; it was an acknowledgment that her work directly impacted their survival.

She let out a slow breath. “Then I’ll make the adjustments before the next expedition.”

Without another word, Erwin turned toward the door. Before he could leave, Valeria spoke, her voice steady but measured. “Commander.”

He paused, glancing back.

“I’ll be leading the next round of ODM instruction with the new recruits,” she said, fingers tapping lightly against the stack of reports on her desk. “Would you be interested in observing? It could be useful for you to see firsthand how they handle the updated gear.”

Erwin considered this for a moment before giving a slight nod. “Very well. I’ll accompany you.”

The training grounds were alive with the sound of steel, the rush of gas propulsion, and the occasional sharp instruction cutting through the morning air. The recruits moved through the course, their ODM gear engaging in bursts as they maneuvered through obstacles designed to simulate field conditions.

Valeria stood near the observation platform, arms crossed as she watched them closely, her keen eyes analyzing each movement. She gestured toward one of the recruits mid-swing. “See that?”

Erwin followed her gaze. The soldier had misjudged their trajectory, forcing an abrupt course correction that left them vulnerable mid-air.

“Overcorrection,” Erwin noted.

Valeria nodded. “A common problem. Most of them rely on instinct more than calculation. If they panic, they compensate too much, throwing off their balance.”

Erwin’s gaze remained steady. “And your solution?”

“Controlled adjustments,” she replied. “I drill it into them until it becomes second nature. The updated gear helps with stability, but if they don’t trust it, they’ll keep making the same mistakes.”

A sharp whistle signaled a reset in the exercise. The recruits disengaged and prepared for another run. Levi, overseeing a separate group, strode over, his usual unimpressed expression fixed.

“They’re not completely useless, but they still have a long way to go.”

Valeria smirked. “That might be the closest thing to a compliment I’ve heard from you all week.”

Erwin exhaled through his nose, fingers steepled as he observed another recruit narrowly avoid a collision. His sharp gaze tracked their movements, reading the imbalances, the hesitation. “I feel there are broader considerations to address.”

Valeria turned to him, brows raising slightly. “Such as?”

Erwin regarded her carefully, measured as always. “If we integrate more rigorous combat training under the Survey Corps, Pixis will take notice. You hold influence across multiple branches of engineering, logistics, and research. That position grants you leverage. If you step into combat, it entirely shifts your perception of your role.”

Valeria’s arms crossed over her chest. “So my position is only useful if I stay behind the front lines?”

“That’s not what I said.” Erwin’s voice remained even though there was a weight behind it. “I’m saying your role extends beyond the battlefield. If you become a soldier first, your reach is limited to a singular function.”

She exhaled, glancing toward the recruits as one struggled mid-air, barely catching themselves on a support beam. Her fingers curled slightly. “I’ve spent years refining ODM mechanics, ensuring they have the best possible tools. But seeing them out here, watching how many still struggle...how many don’t come back...it’s not enough.”

His gaze flickered toward her, quiet but assessing. “And what do you propose instead?”

She turned to face him fully, her voice steady. “Let me train with them. I know how the gear works from the back of my head. If I’m going to be part of this, I need to understand the field.”

Erwin exhaled sharply, his gaze unwavering. “Then you know why I can’t allow it.”

She stiffened, her breath caught mid-argument.

His voice remained even, but there was no room for debate. “You’ve proven your value beyond combat. Your place is here advising, innovating, and ensuring the survival of those who do fight. I won’t waste that by sending you into the field.”

Valeria parted her lips to speak but hesitated, the words dying before they could form. For all her preparation, she hadn’t anticipated Erwin drawing such a definitive line.

She had taken flight for the first time in a long time, pushing herself beyond the confines of observation and theory. But now, standing in the weight of his decision, she realized that all those nights of training, every calculated risk, had never been a chosen path. It had been a question. And Erwin had given her an answer.

Erwin took a step back, a finality in his posture. “This isn’t a discussion. That’s my decision.”

His tone was controlled, delivered like a sealed order rather than a debate. Valeria wasn’t struck by his words. It was the way he looked at her.

A flicker of something unreadable passed through his sharp gaze, something that settled between calculated reasoning and something more guarded. No hesitation, not quite regret, but an awareness of what had just been decided.

Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

He straightened, smoothing the cuff of his uniform with a quiet precision. A dismissal. Not of her, but of the subject entirely.

And then he turned away.

No further justification. No lingering glance.

The conversation had ended.

Valeria stood there, feeling the weight of what had just happened to settle into her chest. She expected pushback. But something about his delivery, about the quiet finality in his tone, left her standing in place longer than she meant to.

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.

He wasn’t rejecting the idea of her joining the field. He was cutting off the possibility entirely.

Chapter Text

[Commander’s Perspective]

Erwin stood near the long wooden table, scanning expedition reports and noting every detail.

Levi leaned against the wall, his posture deceptively relaxed. His gaze flickered toward the door as it swung open, revealing Nile with his usual rigid stance and taut expression. The room felt colder the moment he stepped inside.

"Straight to business, I assume," Erwin greeted.
Nile exhaled sharply, stepping forward. "You've taken heavier losses than expected. Didn't the expedition go as planned ?"

Erwin met his stare without wavering. "We anticipated losses. The nature of the mission changed when we realized the Titans’ behavior wasn’t following standard patterns."

Nile scoffed. "Standard patterns? That’s putting it lightly. What you encountered out there wasn’t unexpected." Levi’s gaze sharpened. "You don’t need to tell us that."

He turned toward him."And yet you still push forward with the same reckless pursuit."

Levi pushed off the wall, stepping closer. "We do what’s necessary. If you’re here to point fingers, save your breath."

Erwin signaled Levi to stand down. His voice remained measured. "We’ve already begun analyzing the shifts in behavior. The next is adapting. That’s why the debriefing is crucial."
Nile let out a humorless chuckle. "Adapting. That’s what concerning?."
Erwin arched a brow. "Concerned about our strategies or something else?"

A tense pause. Nile’s fingers twitched at his sides, his frustration barely contained. "You’re restructuring how this is fought," he said carefully. "And the more control the Survey Corps gains in these decisions, the more the balance of power shifts."

Erwin observed him, unreadable. "Survival is our goal."

Nile’s eyes narrowed. "Don’t be naive. One branch holds too much weight, and the others become obsolete. That makes people desperate. The Military Police won’t just sit back while you shift tactics and expand your reach."

Levi scoffed. "So that’s what this is about. You’re not just here to talk strategy..you’re worried about losing your hold on things."

Nile’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he redirected. "The Garrison and Military Police handle defense and internal stability. The Survey Corps exists to scout and gather intelligence beyond the walls. But now? You’re pushing past that role. If you continue on this path, it won’t be long before others start questioning whether you’re overstepping your authority."

Erwin remained quiet for a moment as if weighing his next words. He calmly asked, "Who, exactly, is questioning?" Nile hesitated for a second.

Levi noticed and held a glance at Erwin. He didn’t press, but the pause spoke volumes. The conversation had started as a strategic discussion, but it was something more.

"It’s not the Council, is it?" Levi pressed. "This is coming from you."

Nile straightened, his tone turning clipped. "It’s coming from those who understand the importance of maintaining stability."

Erwin tilted his head slightly. "And you think my decisions threaten that stability."

"Your ambition does," Nile corrected. Erwin’s fingers tapped lightly against the table, considering. "You believe adapting our approach is a risk. That maintaining the status quo is the safer path."

Nile’s voice remained firm. "It’s the controlled path." Levi clicked his tongue. "Yeah? And tell me, how many more people die under ‘control’ before you finally admit it’s not working?" Nile’s hands curled into fists, but his expression remained composed. "We can’t afford reckless expansion."

Erwin finally spoke again, slow and deliberate. "We can’t afford stagnation either." The air felt thick and heavy. Nile exhaled sharply. "Just be careful, Erwin."

Erwin held in, unwavering. The weight in the room lingered as Nile turned sharply and strode toward the door. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaving as if considering saying something more. But he didn’t. The door clicked shut behind him.

Levi let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "He’s getting desperate."
Erwin remained still, his eyes fixed on the closed door. "He’s grasping for control." Levi exhaled. "You think he’s gonna pull something?" "Seems like it already is." Erwin turned toward the table and chuckled, his sharp mind already moving to the next step.

The second knock was expected.

“Enter.”

Pixis stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His usual smirk was present, but his eyes, calculating and perceptive, scanned the room, settling first on Erwin, then briefly on Levi.

“Well,” he sighed. “I imagine that was about as pleasant as herding a pack of drunk soldiers.”

Erwin exhaled through his nose. “Nile has concerns.”

Pixis let out a low hum. “Concerns or demands?”
Erwin didn’t answer, but the silence spoke for itself.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, I suspected as much. And here I thought he was better at hiding his personal investments.” Pixis turned his attention back to Erwin. “But we’re not here to discuss Nile, are we?”

Erwin straightened, his expression tightening just slightly. “No. I'd like to talk about Valeria’s role moving forward.”

Pixis raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
“She’s becoming more involved in our operations. She’s training with Levi. She’s working directly with Hanji on Titan studies. She’s influencing our strategic planning,” Erwin listed, his voice steady though something was restrained beneath it. “The more she integrates into our structure, the more difficult it will be for her to maintain neutrality.”

Pixis tilted his head, his amusement never quite reaching his eyes. “And neutrality is your primary concern?”

He looks at him. “It should be.” Pixis exhaled. “Ah, but it isn’t, is it?”

A flicker of something crossed Erwin’s face, brief enough that only Pixis would have caught it. Levi shifted slightly but kept his silence.

Pixis leaned back against the chair, fingers tapping idly against his flask. “She’s walking the same line you did, Erwin. You see it, don’t you?”
Erwin’s jaw tightened slightly, but his tone remained composed. “She has skills that extend beyond combat. If she chooses this path, she risks losing influence where it’s most needed.”

Pixis smirked. “Funny. I recall hearing something similar about you once.”

Pixis leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Valeria doesn’t build tools, Erwin. She builds solutions. And like any great strategist, she knows that some solutions require being on the front lines.”
Erwin’s fingers curled slightly against the table. “She’s not a soldier.”
“No,” Pixis agreed easily. “She’s something more. Which is precisely why she wants to go this path.”

Erwin exhaled slowly. His mind weighed logistics, risks, and the consequences he wasn’t ready to voice.

Pixis studied him carefully. “You can justify it however you’d like, Commander. Strategy. Logistics. Politics.” His voice lowered, “But this hesitation of yours? It isn’t just about her position hmm? You’re worried about her in a way that goes beyond tactics. In a way that goes beyond strategy."

Erwin exhaled, standing straight. “Regardless of personal concerns, the reality remains—if she steps too far into combat, her position changes. Pixis, I need to know if you support keeping her in a role that ensures her long-term influence.”

Pixis tilted his head. “And what makes you think she’ll stay in that role just because you will it?”

The weight of command settled back over his features. “I will do what I must to protect her contributions.” Pixis gave him a knowing look. “If only that was all you were trying to protect.”

Erwin inclined his head. “I’ll expect your support in keeping her position intact.”

Pixis smirked, rising from his chair. “You have it. But don’t say think that she won't hesitate.

------

The steady rhythm of ODM gas bursts punctuated the space, and recruits darted through the air in varying degrees of competence. Some moved with raw potential, their footwork still too rigid, their turns too hesitant. Others struggled outright, their landings sending dust clouds billowing as they miscalculated the retraction of their cables.

Valeria stood near the center, posture firm as she assessed their movements. She had arrived earlier than usual so as not to dwell on the conversation with Erwin but to work on moving forward. If she wasn’t allowed on the field as part of an expedition, she would ensure those sent out were more prepared than ever.

"Watch your anchors," she called sharply, her voice carrying over the clang of gear adjustments and the occasional grunt of effort. "You’re wasting too much momentum in your turns. If you overcorrect midair, you’ll compromise your trajectory. Adjust before you launch, not during."

She pivoted on her heel as one of the recruits botched his rotation and barely avoided slamming into a wooden post. His landing was rough, but he stayed upright. Valeria exhaled through her nose and nodded. "Better. But don’t just rely on instinct make sure to calculate your movement before you fire. If you don’t, instinct will get you killed."

Her tone was steady, instructive, not sharp, not cold. Just focused.

She caught movement from the corner of her eye. A familiar figure approached at a measured pace, boots crunching softly against the dirt. Nile.

He stopped just at the edge of the field, arms crossed over his chest. "You’re working them pretty hard."

Valeria didn’t look at him, her gaze locked onto a recruit attempting a tight maneuver between two training poles. The angle was off. She tensed slightly, watching as the recruit’s cables clipped too early, sending him into an uncontrolled spin before he landed on his back. A hiss of gas, a sharp impact, then silence. The recruit groaned, and Valeria let out a slow breath.

"Hard training now means they don’t fail later through an expedition," she said flatly, stepping forward to offer the fallen recruit a hand. "Let's try that again," she instructed before turning her attention back to Nile. "What do you need?"

Nile didn’t immediately answer. He looked at her still, smirking. His sharp gaze swept over the field, taking in the recruits struggling through the drills. "I've never seen you this into training. Something changed?"

Valeria’s expression didn’t shift. "I only want them to improve. You've seen the outcome of the expedition—you even pointed it out yourself earlier, didn't you? During the briefing." It was her only answer, and she knew Nile would pick up on its meaning. He exhaled through his nose as if considering his following words. "You know you have other options besides staying here."

Valeria rolled her shoulders, shaking out the tension before stepping away, making it clear she had no interest in the conversation. “I have work to do, Nile. If this is about recruitment, save it for your trainers.”

“This isn’t about recruitment,” Nile countered, his tone measured. “You can make the bigger impact.”

She paused mid-step, but she didn’t turn to face him.

“You think I don’t belong here?” she asked, voice even.

Nile exhaled, hesitating just long enough to weigh his words. “I think you have more to offer beyond combat instruction. You bridge the gap between branches in a way no one else can. But if you lock yourself into the Survey Corps, that influence will shrink.”

Valeria’s jaw tightened. She took in a slow, measured breath before responding.

“So that’s what this is about,” she murmured, finally turning just enough to glance at him. “You and Erwin both seem to think you know where I should be. First, I’m too valuable in research. Then, I’m too valuable in training. Now, you’re telling me I’m wasting my potential by being here?” Her voice remained controlled, but there was no mistaking the edge beneath it. “If Pixis supports my position, why is it always in question?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she turned her attention back to the recruits, lifting a hand to signal the next set of maneuvers. Dismissal.

Nile lingered for a beat, watching her carefully. Then, with a sharp inhale, he stepped back. “Think about it carefully, Valeria.” His voice was unreadable, but the weight in it lingered.

She didn’t reply. She was already watching the next wave of trainees launch into the air, her mind focused elsewhere.

But Nile didn’t leave.

Instead, he took another step closer, lowering his voice. “You may think you have all the time in the world to decide where you stand, but that’s not how this works.”

Valeria’s lips pressed into a thin line. She exhaled slowly, willing herself to focus on the recruits rather than the tension curling in her chest. “I’ve already made my choice, Nile. I don’t need another lecture about where I should be.”

His jaw tightened. “And what if your choice costs you the very thing you’re trying to hold onto?”

Her eyes snapped back to him, sharp and unwavering. “I should be asking you that.”

Nile’s expression hardened, but he didn’t answer immediately. One of the recruits overshot their anchor point a few feet away, gas hissing as their cables recoiled too quickly. Valeria moved without thinking, stepping forward and calling, “Control your release, adjust before you retract, or you’ll throw your weight off!”

The recruit barely managed to correct in time, avoiding a rough landing. Valeria nodded approvingly before stepping back, her focus again shifting to Nile.

He studied her, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You’re just as stubborn as he is.” She arched a brow. “Then maybe you should stop trying to convince me otherwise.”

Neither of them moved. The space between them stretched tight with unspoken words, neither willing to break first. Then, at last, Nile exhaled through his nose, his frustration barely concealed.

“This conversation isn’t over,” he said finally.

She turned back to the recruits, stepping away as if the entire discussion had faded into irrelevance.

Nile’s retreating footsteps faded into the hum of distant conversations and the sharp bursts of ODM gear firing. Valeria exhaled, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the exchange. There was no point in dwelling on it. She turned toward the equipment rack, where her gear rested. The leather straps were worn but familiar beneath her fingers as she fastened each buckle with practiced ease. The metallic click of the gas canisters locking into place echoed in the quiet space around her. She tugged at the cables, testing the tension before launching into motion, the world narrowing into speed, trajectory, and impact.

The last rays of sunlight stretched across the training field, casting long shadows over the dirt. As cables shot toward wooden beams, recruits maneuvering in staggered formations, gas hissed through the air. Some executed their techniques precisely, while others miscalculated, their landings jarring as they struggled to regain control.

Valeria landed lightly on the edge of a support beam, scanning the field below. A recruit twisted too late, misjudging their midair momentum before crashing into the ground in a rough tumble. Without hesitation, she engaged her gear again, propelling forward. Her blades hummed in her grip as she cut clean through the marked target on a training dummy, retracting her cables before landing smoothly.

"Anchor before you rotate," she called over her shoulder. "If you adjust mid-flight, you’re already too late."

The recruit groaned in response, dusting himself off before launching again. She didn’t linger. Another movement caught her eye, a misfired cable, a loss of control. She adjusted her footing, watching closely.
Levi’s voice broke through the evening air. He stood near the edge of the field, arms crossed, gaze flicking from her to the recruits. "Seems like you're not just standing there and watching anymore."

She flexed her fingers around her triggers, barely looking at him. "That’s the point of training."

"Is it?"

His voice was neutral, but something in his tone made her pause. She exhaled, scanning the field again before answering.

"If I’m not allowed on expeditions, then the least I can do is make sure our trainees who go are more prepared than ever."

Levi tilted his head slightly. "Is that the reason why you were talking to Nile earlier?"

She glanced at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. "So you heard that too."

He crossed his arms. "Didn’t have to. I know how he operates."

She sighed, rolling her shoulders. "He thinks I’m wasting my potential. That I should be playing a different role instead of staying here."

Levi scoffed. "Sounds familiar."

Valeria glanced at him again, sensing something behind his words. He wasn’t just talking about her. Her fingers curled slightly around her triggers. "He doesn’t trust the Survey Corps pushing beyond its role. He said it himself. He thinks Erwin is overreaching."

Levi exhaled through his nose, nodding slightly. "hmmm... You’re not wrong."

Valeria let out a quiet breath, processing the weight behind the conversation. Then, with a shift in tone, she smirked slightly. Valeria pushed off the beam, her cables snapping taut as she launched again. The rush of air flattened against her skin as she twisted midair, adjusting the weight of her strike before slashing through another target in a clean, fluid motion. She released her anchors at the peak of her momentum, letting the shift in force carry her into the next maneuver without hesitation.

She landed smoothly, rolling her shoulders before straightening. Levi gave a slow nod, his expression unreadable. "Not too bad." Valeria dusted off her gloves. "That almost sounded like a compliment."

Levi scoffed. "Don’t get ahead of yourself." his eyes flickered toward the recruits, still struggling with their maneuvers. "Come on. Run another set with me."

They moved through the course, weaving between wooden pillars and shifting targets. Valeria let go of calculated planning. This time, she moved with instinct, not analysis. She adjusted, not based on theory, but on sensation.

As they landed, Valeria exhaled hard, adjusting her stance. Levi studied her silently before she spoke.

"How do you control sharp turns mid-air without wasting momentum?"

Levi blinked, slightly surprised by the question. "That depends."

She shook her head. "I’ve noticed that I lose speed in certain maneuvers to throw off my trajectory. I need to adjust faster without overcompensating."

Levi watched her for a moment, then nodded toward the course. "Again. This time, loosen your grip before the turn. If you hold tension too long, your movement lags."

Valeria hesitated briefly before firing her cables. She adjusted as she launched, focusing on his words. Her approach felt different, more fluid, and less forced.

She landed, rolling her shoulders as she glanced at Levi expectantly.

"Better," he admitted, though his tone remained neutral. "But you’re still overthinking. Let the movement guide you, not the other way around."

Valeria flexed her fingers around the triggers. "I’ll work on it."

Levi didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he studied her for a moment longer before glancing toward the recruits, wrapping up their drills. His posture relaxed just a fraction. "Don’t fall behind," he said, a quiet remark before turning away.

She didn’t miss the shift in his tone. The last bursts of ODM gas faded into the evening air, leaving only the rustling of leaves and the distant chatter of recruits winding down. The golden hues of dusk stretched long across the field, softening the rough edges of the dirt and worn wooden posts. The training was over. She finally felt no need to linger in critique or correction.

She pulled off her gloves, flexing her fingers to shake out the lingering ache from the afternoon’s drills. A slow breath escaped her, lighter than she’d taken earlier. The productive session was not perfect, but that wasn’t the point.

A nearby recruit let out an exaggerated groan as he slumped onto the ground, stretching out like he had barely survived the training. “If I don’t wake up tomorrow, tell my family I died with honor.”

Valeria huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You survived worse last week.”

Another recruit snorted, offering the exhausted one a hand. “She’s right. Last week, you actually did crash headfirst into a tree.”

“Which means I should be given a rest day,” the first one argued, though he took the offered help and got to his feet.

Valeria smirked, tilting her head. “I’ll consider it. But only if you make it through next week without landing on your face.”

The recruit groaned again, but the lightness in the air told her he wasn’t really complaining.

She rolled her shoulders, feeling the last bits of tension fade. Nearby, a group of recruits gathered around the equipment rack, chatting as they secured their gear. One of them waved her over. “Specialist, we were trying to figure out who was the fastest in maneuvering today?”

Valeria arched a brow. “You think I was keeping score?”

The group exchanged glances before one of them grinned. “Well, weren’t you?”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “If you have enough energy to worry about rankings, you have enough energy to train harder next time.”

The recruits groaned, but their laughter betrayed them. While considering packing up for the night, she caught movement in her periphery. A soldier approached with purpose, expression neutral but expectant.

“Specialist Valeria.”

She blinked, momentarily pulled from the warmth of the moment. “Yes! What is it?”

The soldier extended a folded parchment. “Commander Pixis has requested your presence. Immediately.”

Valeria’s fingers closed around the note, unfolding it with ease. The message was brief—straight to the point, as always.

She exhaled through her nose, but this time, there was no irritation, no immediate bracing for conflict. Just curiosity.

“Alright,” she said, tucking the note into her belt. “Is there a specific area we're supposed to meet?”

“The war room in the Garrison sector.”

She took a moment, rolling her shoulders one last time before nodding. “Got it... two meetings within a day huh,”

As she made her way off the field, she glared at the gathered recruits, talking among themselves. The sense of camaraderie lingered, the weight of the day’s expectations left behind with the setting sun.

---------

The war room in the Garrison sector was dimly lit, the lanterns casting long shadows over the walls lined with maps and supply charts. Valeria entered with her usual measured stride, already bracing for whatever new task Pixis had seen fit to assign her. She hadn't even had time to change out of her training gear, the faint scent of sweat and leather clinging to her uniform.

Pixis stood near the table, pouring himself a drink, though his sharp eyes flicked toward her when she stepped in. “Ah, excellent timing.”

“Not much choice when you send someone for me with ‘immediately’ underlined. Commander... I'm exhausted for the day. If there isn't any urgency, we can continue this tomorrow.”

"Nonsense, my dear, I think you will have to put everything assigned to set aside for a while. I have a project for you."

Before he could respond, the door opened once more.

Erwin entered, his steps measured, but the brief flicker of surprise revealed that he had not been informed that this was a joint meeting like her. His eyes shifted toward Valeria, and she recognized the same sense of restrained calculation she had come to associate with him.
“Commander,” he greeted Pixis before turning to her with a slight nod. “Specialist.”

Valeria returned the gesture. “Commander.”

Pixis watched them both, amused. “Recent developments have forced us to reconsider how we approach expeditions beyond the walls. There is a need for a more precise evaluation of Titan behavior and terrain conditions. The goal is to determine a more effective formation strategy that minimizes risk.”

Erwin’s posture remained rigid, but his attention was focused. “You’re proposing a scouting mission.”

“Correct,” Pixis confirmed. “I thought it only fair to call you both, given our earlier conversations.” he turned to look at both of them. “We spoke this morning about the necessary restructuring of expedition tactics. After much consideration, it became clear that the two of you are best suited for what comes next.”

Pixis pointed into the section of the map beyond the walls. “A small team will accompany you for security, but your primary objective is to analyze potential supply routes and Titan avoidance patterns. If we are to adapt our expeditions, we must first understand where our vulnerabilities lie.”

Erwin studied the map, “You’ve chosen an area with previously failed expeditions.”

Pixis inclined his head. “I have. This is precisely why we need both leaders to identify why those failures occurred. You see the necessity in this, don’t you?” The war room remained silent, the weight of Pixis’s words settling between the two officers standing before him.

Erwin exhaled slowly, considering the assignment. Erwin’s eyes remained firm toward the map, lingering on the routes marked with past failures expeditions that had ended in retreat, if not worse.

The risks were obvious. As was the fact that Valeria would be involved this time.

Finally, he gave a curt nod. "I do."

“I would be honored to take this assignment, commander,” she answered without hesitation.

Erwin’s gaze shifted toward her, expression unreadable. “You’re sure?” Valeria met his look evenly. "I believe it falls within my expertise."

His expression remained unreadable. "It does. But expertise doesn’t negate the risk."

Pixis watched their exchange, flask in hand, amused but observant.
Valeria tilted her chin slightly. "That applies to both of us, doesn’t it?"

His fingers tapped against the table. "The terrain has changed since our last failed attempts in that sector. If previous formations struggled to adapt, the issue may be larger than simple route adjustments."

"That’s what we’re going to determine. And you know as well as I do that I can identify structural weaknesses to create safer fallback points."

His jaw tightened slightly. "This is a task best suited for scouts with years of field experience."

"And yet, I’m the one who identified the trend that led us here."

There was no arrogance in her tone, only fact.

Erwin looked briefly toward the map before returning to her. His voice remained even. "With all due respect, this mission is not a debate."

She didn’t flinch. "And it shouldn't be."

Pixis cleared his throat, leaning forward. "Now, now, let’s not forget the purpose of this little gathering. You both want results, and I—" he gestured between them with his flask, "want a drink. So why don’t we get to the part where we compromise?"

Erwin adjusted his stance. "If the theory holds, it could change how we approach expeditions." His scrutiny lingered on Valeria. "How confident are you in your findings?"

"We need field confirmation before we apply it."

He folded his arms. "Then I’m requesting an additional security detail."

Valeria’s brows lifted slightly. "You think we’ll need it?"

"I think it would be reckless to assume otherwise."

Pixis smirked. "Ah, well then, what are you requesting?"

Erwin didn’t break eye contact with Valeria. "Two additional scouts with experience in unpredictable encounters. Preferably those who can hold formation under duress."

"If we have too large a presence, we risk attracting attention. A smaller team moves faster," she added.

"I’m not requesting a formation large enough to slow us down. I’m ensuring your survival doesn’t depend on improvisation."

Valeria held her eyes on him. "That’s fine."

Pixis leaned back slightly, folding his arms. "Well, I suppose that settles it. You leave at first light. I trust you’ll both make the necessary preparations." Neither Erwin nor Valeria spoke as they turned for the exit. Pixis watched them go, amusement flickering as he took a slow sip from his flask.

------

The hallway was quiet as Erwin and Valeria walked side by side, their steps measured. The air between them carried the weight of what wasn’t said in the meeting.

When they were far enough from Pixis’ office, Erwin spoke first. “I expect you to bring your best ODM gear.”

Valeria’s gaze flicked to him, catching the undercurrent beneath his words. "We never finished our last conversation."

"We didn’t need to."

She exhaled. "You still don’t think I belong on these expeditions, do you?" Erwin finally turned to her. "It’s not about belief, Valeria. You’re valuable, but I can’t risk something happening to you. Please understand that scouting missions aren’t just about observation. They demand skill, adaptability, and weeks of training under unpredictable conditions. You’re a smart woman whose contributions have greatly influenced our priorities. But that doesn’t mean the field is where you should conquer."

"And is it necessary to keep me at a distance?" she sighed.

His silence spoke louder than any answer. After a beat, he spoke. "Yes." He didn’t hesitate. “I expect you to be prepared.”

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. “And after this?”

Erwin didn’t look at her. “This is an isolated mission.”

"One you just agreed to take with me."

Now, he turned to face her fully. “Out of necessity.” His voice remained even, but there was no mistaking the edge behind it. “Don’t mistake my acceptance of this mission as an endorsement of more.”

Valeria exhaled, jaw tightening. “So no matter what I prove, it won’t change your stance.”

Erwin studied her, the sharpness in his expression softening just enough to hint at something more conflicted. “Your place in this mission is a matter of strategy.” He held her gaze. “That doesn’t mean I’ll allow it to become a precedent.”

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then, Valeria straightened her posture. “Then I’ll ensure my work justifies the decision.”

Erwin gave a small nod. “See that it does.”

As he turned to leave, Valeria spoke again. “Commander.”

He stopped, glancing back.

“To conduct this mission effectively, I’d like to review your previous scouting data. A direct assessment would allow me to align my approach with the Corps’ operational patterns.”

Erwin regarded her carefully. “You’ve already reviewed the expedition reports.”

“Independently, yes. But your firsthand insight would provide a clearer framework for what to anticipate in the field.”

He was silent for a moment, considering.

Finally, he exhaled. “No need to wait. Walk with me.”

Valeria stepped beside him, adjusting her pace to match his measured stride. “What’s your current understanding of long-range scouting formations?” Erwin asked.

She responded without hesitation. “They prioritize maneuverability, but fallback routes have proven unreliable due to shifting Titan patterns. If the terrain affects their movement, retreat strategies must be adjusted accordingly.”

He nodded, approving. “Then let’s determine how to apply that knowledge before we step into the field.”

The conversation continued as they reached his office, the weight of the mission shifting from a debate to a collaboration.

Chapter Text

Inside Erwin's office the glow of lanterns cast long shadows across his desk, where maps and tactical reports lay in meticulous order. She had studied Titan reports for months, combed through strategy logs, and memorized formation patterns. But she had felt different, she was preparing beside someone who had led those very expeditions.. 

Erwin gestured toward the chair across from him. "Make yourself comfortable. We have much to go over before tomorrow." He lowered himself into his seat, adjusting a logbook in front of him. Valeria skimmed the reports, fingertips tracing along the carefully marked notations. "If I had known we'd be meeting, I would have brought my notes."

Erwin's gaze flickered toward her before settling on the open pages. "No need. Everything you need is here."

She exhaled, flipping a page. "Where do we begin? I want to understand how expeditions are analyzed during the expedition. I would assume each group has designated positions, formations, and a set pattern for maneuvering through Titans."

Erwin leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the desk. "That's a common assumption, but no structure survives first contact. Versatility is the foundation of survival. Every maneuver is designed with multiple contingencies in place."

He pulled a separate map, tapping along the inked paths. "Scouts are divided into units with designated reconnaissance and support objectives. It's not adamant. If a squad loses pattern, it could depend on the ability to assess the terrain and adjust accordingly."

Valeria absorbed the information and studied the markings. "And what dictates when a formation is abandoned?"

"Several factors. Titan density, terrain shifts, weather conditions—" Erwin's finger trailed to a map section marked with red ink. "However, the most decisive factor is whether retreat remains an option. The moment fallback routes are compromised, survival is dictated by reaction speed."

She frowned slightly, her attention drifting to another section of the report detailing Titan's encounters. "And the Titans themselves… how do they react in the field compared to how they're documented in Hanji's experiments?"

Erwin exhaled, shifting his focus. "They're unpredictable. At the same time, others defy the pattern entirely. That's what makes them dangerous."

She had read every behavioral analysis available, debated Titan response times, studied structural vulnerabilities, and committed movement patterns to memory. But she had never thought of seeing one for the first time.

Erwin's voice cut through her thoughts. "You want to, don't you?"

"I wouldn't say want," she said slowly, folding her arms. "It's just… the thought of seeing one up close after everything I've read it feels different. Less controlled.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he exhaled. "Curiosity without preparation is a liability. Don't let it cloud your instincts."

Valeria arched a brow. "That what you told yourself the first time you saw one?"

Something flickered in his expression. For a brief moment, she thought she had pushed too far. Then, to her surprise, he huffed a quiet laugh. "Fear overrides fascination rather quickly."

Valeria smirked. "Ah, so even Commander Erwin Smith had a moment of hesitation?"

He shook his head, the faintest ghost of amusement at the corner of his mouth. "I wouldn't call it hesitation. Tactical evaluation under pressure, perhaps."

She gave an exaggerated nod. "Ah, yes. Tactical evaluation."

Erwin reached for another document, sliding it toward her. "If you're serious about learning, let's go deeper, " she read another map marked with Titan engagement routes.

"Close-range combat is a last resort," Erwin explained. "ODM gear is about controlling the battlefield. You create extra distance the more time you spend planning your next strike."

She traced the indicated paths with a gloved fingertip, following the motion arcs and pivot lines etched in pencil. "Engagements are to be thought out before taking action. Makes sense. As long as you're not in close range."

"Exactly. And in battle, the worst mistake is assuming you know how a Titan will react before you've tested its movements."

Valeria nodded slowly, her eyes still on the map, but her thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Her father once told her, "If your gear fires even a half-second too early, it won't matter how skilled you are. You'll miss your mark or, worse, lose control." She had been young, barely tall enough to see over his workbench, watching him thread wire into a weighted pulley system. At the time, she thought he was talking about gear tension.

But now, hearing Erwin speak, she realized he'd been talking about structure, timing, restraint.

She looked back up. "My father believed precision was a matter of timing and control. You don't engage unless the mechanism is fully aligned and the conditions are stable."

Erwin regarded her for a moment, his expression unreadable, like someone recognizing something familiar. "He understood what it meant to devote yourself to something that outlasts you."

Valeria nodded once, the edge of her voice even.
"He did. I didn't see it clearly at the time, but... I think I understand now."

Erwin looks back at his desk, with scattered maps and documents catching the lantern light. "You know, something about your instruction style…" he began. Valeria glanced at him, caught off guard. "What do you mean?" He leaned slightly forward, studying her. "When you instruct others on ODM gear, you emphasize adaptability, like adjusting under pressure, responding to changing conditions, and reading the field in real-time. That approach stood out to me."

A flicker of amusement crossed her face. "Didn't realize you were analyzing my approach." She arched a brow, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Erwin paused. Something shifted in his expression. A faint, almost imperceptible flush touched his cheek, quickly masked by a composed exhale. He cleared his throat and looked back down at the desk.
"Keith noticed as well," he said, his tone smoothing into neutral ground. "If he put half as much effort into studying Titans as he does yelling at his trainees, we might have fewer broken recruits."

Valeria chuckled, shaking her head. "I suppose that means I should be honored."

Erwin smirked, reaching for another document. "Perhaps. Though I suspect his way of showing appreciation would involve more shouting and twice the drills."

She laughed at that, leaning back slightly. "True. I doubt he's ever given a compliment in his life. If he did, I think the entire regiment would collapse from shock."

Erwin huffed a quiet breath of amusement. "And yet, somehow, he keeps them all in line." Valeria shrugged. "Fear is a powerful motivator."

"So is respect," Erwin countered, studying her thoughtfully. "You don't demand authority. That's not an easy thing to do. Your trainees respect you to the point of motivation."

She blinked at the unexpected remark, her fingers stilling on the edge of the map. "Coming from you, that means something. Though, if we're talking about leadership styles… I imagine your scouts never see you lose your temper."

Erwin raised a brow. "You imagine correctly."

"Not even once?"

"Not in a way they would recognize."

She studied him for a moment before grinning. "So what you're saying is, when you're truly angry, it's terrifying because no one sees it coming?"

A look of amusement crossed his face. "I'm saying that anger is a wasted emotion if it doesn't serve a purpose."

Valeria exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "That was the most 'Erwin Smith' answer you could have given."

He hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Would you rather I throw my chair across the room? That seems to be an effective strategy for some commanders."

She laughed outright at that, the mental image far too absurd. "Please don't. I think the structural integrity of your office is already fragile enough with all these maps weighing it down."

Erwin let out a soft chuckle that barely made a sound, but it was there. It was rare, and for some reason, that made it feel more significant.

She studied him carefully now, the dim glow of the lantern light casting sharp lines across his features. His exhaustion was hidden but noticeable in how his shoulders held tension and his fingers stilled against the map.

Valeria sat across from him, one leg crossed over the other, flipping through the reports. The silence between them wasn't heavy, but it wasn't light either. She glanced at him, taking in the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands stilled. "For someone who talks about control, you don't seem to afford yourself much of it outside of work." She stated with her voice quietly.

Erwin's gaze flicked toward her. "What do you think I should be in control of?"

She tapped a finger against the map. "Well, when was the last time you did something for yourself? You seem to be on edge from everything, especially having control over recruits."

A faint sound, something between a scoff and a breath of amusement, but he didn't argue. He didn't answer right away, and she didn't press. Instead, she traced a route on the map, following the inked lines with the tip of her finger.

After a beat, Erwin spoke, his voice low and deliberate.
"I should have handled our last conversation differently."

Valeria froze, her pen hovering just above the paper. What?

She hadn't expected that—not from him, and certainly not now. Her hand curled slightly around the edge of the report before she leaned back, eyes narrowing as she studied his face.
"You didn't have to say that," she said, careful to keep her tone even.

"Maybe not," he replied. "But I wanted to. Especially considering your experience with our maneuver gear. I think Hanji could have used the break anyway."

There was no trace of sarcasm. Just… acknowledgment.

She exhaled, quiet but steady, lips pressed into a line before she gave a slight nod.
"Thank you… for trusting me with this mission. And I apologize for the way I acted earlier as well. I guess it might've been too much to ask for."

Her chest tightened the moment the words left her.
Too much? Or just too soon?

He didn't say anything in response, but his posture softened. Most wouldn't notice. But she did.

Valeria turned a page in the report, though her eyes didn't follow the text. Her voice came casually, though her pulse told a different story.
"Was it your idea?"

Erwin glanced up. "What?"

"This assignment," she clarified, eyes still on the paper. "Was it your plan with Pixis?"

The silence that followed didn't last too long.

"No," he said finally. "It was a good idea. Had it come to me first, I might've proposed something similar… though I probably would have assigned the scouts. But having our team doesn't sound so bad."

So he didn't know.
Or maybe he had. Maybe he'd known exactly how this would unfold and chose not to interfere.

She nodded once, fingers tapping gently against the parchment.
"Then I suppose I should be thanking him instead."

Erwin didn't argue. But something shifted in his stance, not resistance, not agreement. It's just something subtle. Something unsaid.

She didn't press.
Letting the silence settle, she returned her gaze to the paper, pretending to read.

Another thing I'll file away for later.

Valeria turned the conversation elsewhere. "Since we're on the subject of preparation… your ODM gear."

Erwin glanced up again, curiosity evident. "What about it?"

She leaned forward, tapping the edge of the desk lightly. "Have you considered modifications?"

He arched a brow slightly. "Modifications?"

Valeria pulled a blank parchment toward her, sketching a quick outline.

Valeria leaned forward and pulled a blank parchment closer. "Your height and build differ significantly from the standard measurements the gear was initially designed around. You're still subtly compensating during your landings. You'd gain even more control if we slightly lower gas canisters and adjust the harness alignment."

Erwin's gaze traced the neat lines of her sketch carefully and thoughtfully. Then he raised his eyes again, meeting hers directly. "You truly believe it will make that much difference?"

She smiled faintly, tapping her fingertip against the parchment. "I wouldn't suggest it otherwise."

Erwin's gaze lingered thoughtfully on the diagram before he nodded. "Make the adjustments. I trust your judgment."

His immediate trust surprised her, and she felt warmth rise in her chest. "I'll have it ready by morning; it doesn't take me too long for it to make some changes anyway," she said.

"Good," he replied, leaning back slightly. "You're thorough."

She smiled faintly, adjusting the sleeve of her uniform. "About tomorrow standard Survey Corps attire, correct?"

"Yes. But consider practicality," he advised. "Terrain beyond the walls can be unpredictable. You'll want flexibility above all." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Levi's been training me in maneuvering drills. Would you recommend something specific?"

Erwin's expression softened subtly at the mention of Levi's training. "If Levi's been overseeing your training, you'll already know what suits you best. But I believe something that doesn't make you noticeable to Titans will suit you best. We wouldn't want you in close combat with them. Just remember, your safety matters. We need your analysis more than your combat skills."

Valeria nodded slowly, grateful for the indirect compliment. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

Erwin glanced toward the window. The moonlight had shifted late enough that the corridors would be quiet by now. "Well, I think you should get some rest," he said. We didn't have much to plan, but we can improvise on our way there. We'll depart before sunrise."

Valeria stood, gathering her sketches and notes. "I'll have your gear ready and packed before then." He gave a slight nod. "I'll inform the quartermaster. Have anything you need delivered to the stables before dawn."

She paused at the door, casting one last glance over her shoulder. "I'll see you in the morning, Commander." Erwin didn't look up from the map he'd returned to, but his voice was steady. "I'll be there."

The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving only the rustle of parchment and the faint sound of distant wind through the stone.

_________

The lantern flame flickered as Valeria adjusted the final strap on her thigh. The leather creaked under tension, locking into place across reinforced panels she'd spent most of the night calibrating. This gear was nothing like what she wore in the workshop nor the standard Garrison uniform she'd grown accustomed to.

Her uniform, darker in tone, hugged close for maneuverability. Lightweight yet reinforced where it mattered, steel-buckled cross-straps secured her core, precisely anchoring the gas canisters. She ran a thumb along the edge of one blade sheath, double-checking its placement by feel. No rattle. No looseness.

The blades themselves were polished and honed and hung evenly from either hip. Its balance was adjusted for her building, a blend of Survey Corps design and engineering. Her gloves were new, tighter than the worn pair she used for tools but flexible enough to allow clean trigger pulls. Her sleeves tapered into reinforced joints at the wrist, stitched in with quiet care.

Her hair, pulled into a low bun, cleared her field of vision, and her glasses, designed originally for Hanji, were now fitted over her eye. They were dual-lens, with a dial to toggle between long-range focus and quick environmental scans, a piece of herself she was finally bringing beyond the walls.

She paused in front of the mirror,

Posture. Alignment. Movement. Precision.

The figure staring back at her wasn't the engineer hunched over a bench or the specialist giving quiet instruction. It was the same woman, shaped by preparation and steadied by choice.

Her breath slowed. Shoulders squared.

She rested a hand over the center strap above her heart and closed her eyes briefly.
I hope I can make something of this, she thought. Make use of wearing it not just for occasion.

Her gaze drifted to Erwin's gear, laid out and gleaming, polished and rebuilt to her specifications. In the field, her work would finally move. Live. The pouch at her hip held essential tools, spare wire, and calibrators, just in case.

-------

The sky had barely begun to pale, a soft indigo still clinging to the edges of the horizon. Mist curled around the stables like smoke drifting off the earth, swirling between bootprints and the quiet breath of horses shifting in place. Saddles creaked under slow movement, and metal buckles caught what little light there was.

Erwin stood just outside the stable doors, gloves tucked beneath one arm, his coat crisp against the damp. His posture was relaxed, though the subtle shift in his eyes as he scanned the courtyard betrayed the constant assessments turning in his mind.

Hanji leaned against a post nearby, flipping through one of her endless notebooks, muttering as she scrawled something down. She looked up long enough to glance at Erwin's silent review of his gear.

"You know, you're unusually quiet this morning," she said. "Even for you."

"It's early," Erwin said.

"Mm, well, it was your call to go this early," she replied, unconvinced. She tucked the pencil behind her ear. "You're sure about this sector?"

He gave a small nod, lifting his gaze toward the far edge of the gate. "It's time we return to where the pattern broke. If Valeria's analysis holds, the terrain may reveal why the formations failed."

Three additional scouts arrived, boots thudding over damp earth.

Lenz was first sharp-eyed and coiled with energy, her gaze flickering between the horses and formation layout like a soldier already in motion. Riva followed with calm, cataloging her surroundings with quiet efficiency. Daeric brought up the rear, tall and solid, with a relaxed demeanor that bordered on sleepy but hid a trained awareness beneath.

They gave brief nods, falling into respectful silence before Erwin. None of them had met Valeria yet, though her name had been passed through whispers in the barracks.

"Specialist's not here yet?" Daeric asked, glancing around.

"Soon," Hanji replied softly, a knowing smile touching her lips.

A subtle change swept through the quiet courtyard, faint, nearly intangible, but enough to catch the scout's attention. The faint, rhythmic sound of confident footsteps echoed softly over the stone and gravel, drawing everyone's attention.

Valeria emerged from the corridor, stepping deliberately into the pale, muted glow of morning. Mist lingered briefly around her boots before dissipating into nothingness as though nature acknowledged her arrival. Her gear was meticulously tailored, combining Garrison's practicality and Survey Corps elegance. Darker fabric, fitted perfectly to her figure, gleamed with precise silver buckles, each placed with calculated precision. Her hair was pulled neatly, and her specialized glasses caught a glint of early sunlight, lending her appearance a focused intensity.

Lenz's eyes widened in surprise, admiration clear in the small nod she gave unconsciously. Hanji watched Valeria's approach with quiet pride, observing the team's reactions with quiet amusement.

Only Erwin had stood slightly apart, adjusting the saddlebag on his horse, immersed in routine. The familiar motion of securing the strap grounded him, each tug methodical. But as the team's quiet deepened, an unspoken awareness settled over the group like fog. Erwin felt it, some subtle shift in the air. He glanced up instinctively. Valeria was approaching.

The strap in his hand remained loose, briefly forgotten. His posture didn't shift, but his attention had already left the task. Something about her presence drew his focus steadier than before.

She crossed the courtyard intently, her movements quiet and purposeful. Her field gear was clean and adjusted with the kind of care only someone deeply invested in preparation would bother with. "All gear is checked and calibrated," Valeria said, voice precise and controlled. She stepped closer, holding Erwin's modified ODM harness with careful reverence. "Including yours, Commander Erwin."

His gaze shifted toward her, then down to the gear she presented. The modifications were subtle yet meticulous metal clasps polished to a high shine, leather straps newly adjusted, and precisely cut to his build. He reached out, running his fingertips along the harness, noting the smoother placement of the gas canisters, slightly lower than standard, their weight perfectly balanced to reduce drag and facilitate cleaner maneuvers.

"Sorry, I wasn't able to deliver this to you earlier. You'll notice the harness alignment is shifted slightly," Valeria explained. Her fingers lightly brushed over the modified straps. "It will give you better control during landings and eliminate that strain."

Erwin took the harness, carefully slipping it on, instantly aware of the snug fit and more intuitive weight distribution. He adjusted his stance, feeling the unfamiliar yet pleasant sensation of improved balance. It felt oddly natural, as though the gear had always been meant for him.

Valeria watched closely, focusing on his reactions. "How does it feel?"

He moved experimentally, shifting his shoulders and adjusting his posture. The gear responded fluidly to his movements, each adjustment seamless and effortless. Erwin felt a surprising surge of confidence, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He looked up, meeting Valeria's steady gaze with quiet appreciation.

"It feels exceptional," he admitted, a faint note of surprise coloring his usually composed voice. "The difference is substantial. I can sense how much this will help in the field."

Valeria's expression softened into a small, satisfied smile. "Good. I carefully tailored every adjustment specifically to your frame and maneuvering style as discussed."

Erwin nodded slowly, absorbing her words and the quiet pride behind them. "I appreciate your thoroughness."

She shook her head gently, eyes brightening slightly. "Seeing you use it effectively out there will be thanks enough." She stepped back, turning toward the group.

She approached with a steady gait, the faint creak of her gear punctuating each step. The three scouts—Lenz, Riva, and Daeric—straightened as she neared, their curiosity already piqued from earlier.

She offered a brief but confident nod.

"Good morning. I'm Valeria," she said in her professional tone. "I take it you're the backup unit joining us?"

Lenz returned the nod quickly, her gaze sharp. "That's right. I'm Lenz. And my comrades Riva and Daeric." Daeric gave a short wave. Riva nodded in greeting, her eyes studying Valeria's gear quietly. Valeria's gaze moved between them. "I've heard good things. I'm looking forward to working with you."

Lenz spoke up with amusement behind her voice," That gear of yours, did you make it yourself?"

Valeria allowed a faint smile. "Yes! I worked a few extra hours making adjustments to ensure no loose ends. I've had this hiding for a while since I used to train with gear, but I never really used it personally."

Daeric gave a quiet whistle. "Looks sharper than usual equipment."

"Hopefully it performs that way," Valeria replied.

"I take it you'll be observing Titan's behavior?"
Riva asks.

"Partially. I'll also be mapping terrain weaknesses and fallback points," Valeria said. "But if anything goes wrong, we can group up."

Hanji stepped forward, gesturing warmly toward one of the horses nearby. "Valeria, meet your partner for this mission, Atlas. He's reliable and steady, perfect for your first expedition beyond the walls."

Valeria nodded lightly, gratitude evident in her eyes as she glanced at Hanji before turning her attention fully toward her horse. She began adjusting the saddle straps confidently, her movements growing sure with each passing moment.

She looked toward the team, adjusting the weight of her satchel before speaking. "If I can have your attention," she said, calm but clear, "I'd like to introduce a few tools I've brought that may support the mission."

The scouts turned toward her, curiosity lighting their expressions. She reached into the satchel and drew out a small metallic sphere, holding it up for them to see.

"This is a dispersion orb. On impact, it releases a dense smoke cloud-effective for obscuring visibility in open terrain or disrupting a Titan's line of sight. It activates on sharp contact." She gently tossed the orb once in her palm, then returned it to her bag.
"We'll carry a few per scout. They're compact but limited. Use them only when necessary."

She reached in again, drawing out a slender reinforced tube.
"This one's still in testing. It fires a short-range signal dart—audible and visible. If you're separated or need to draw attention away from your path, fire one toward the opposite direction. It gives you about ten seconds to reposition."

Lenz gave a low whistle. "That's... clever."

Daeric raised an eyebrow. "You made these yourself?"

"With some help from Hanji and more late nights than I'd like to admit," Valeria said, a faint smile flickering across her face.
"These tools are not meant to replace combat but can buy you seconds. Sometimes, that's all you need."

Riva tilted her head. "How do they hold up in the wind?"

Valeria nodded. "Wind can shift smoke or flares. If conditions change, reposition accordingly. I'll adjust distribution based on your station."

Erwin, who had been observing in silence, finally spoke.
"You designed these specifically for this mission?"

Valeria met his gaze. "Yes, sir."

He nodded slowly, the faintest shift in his posture.
"Impressive work. Distribute what you need. We ride into unstable terrain, and every advantage matters."

Valeria nodded and moved between the team, quickly handing out the tools.

Erwin cleared his throat gently, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "Now that we're all here, let's review the mission objectives clearly before departure."

Hanji stepped aside, folding her arms thoughtfully. "I won't join you, but you know the drill. Your goal is observation and analysis. Avoid confrontation unless necessary. Valeria has an idea of structural weaknesses and Titan's behavior. Trust her assessments. You are all here to protect her as well."

Erwin glanced at the team, his expression composed but alert. "We'll be entering a high-density growth zone near the southern basin of the forest. The terrain is uneven, with minimal visibility beyond fifteen meters. Expect elevation shifts, root clusters, and sudden blind spots."

He dismounted briefly, reaching for the map tube secured to his saddle. With a practiced hand, he unrolled a smaller field sketch and pinned it against his thigh with his gloved fingers for the others to see.

"Our objective is twofold: validate Valeria's terrain assessments and document changes since our last pass through this region. We'll avoid confrontation with Titans unless necessary. Observation and mobility are our priorities."

He turned to Riva first. "You'll ride point on the right flank. Keep eyes on any elevation breaks. We'll be passing three ridges that could serve as blind drops."

Riva gave a single nod, tightening the strap across her chest.

"Daeric," Erwin continued, "rear guard. Your job is distance tracking. If we fall out of our pattern, I want you herding stragglers and watching for anything closing in from behind."

Daeric adjusted the grip on his reins and smirked slightly. "Copy that. I'll be your shadow."

"Lenz," Erwin said, shifting his gaze, "left perimeter. You'll support Valeria directly. If visibility drops, I want you within ten meters of her at all times."

Lenz raised a brow, but her tone was even. "Understood."

Finally, his attention settled on Valeria. "You'll stay center-left. That puts you in the best position to map terrain and relay observations. Any changes in the forest, natural or unnatural you report immediately."

Valeria straightened slightly in the saddle, her voice measured. "I'll track elevation dips, cleared vegetation paths, and any damage that might indicate Titan migration."

Erwin gave a small nod. "If you feel something is off, don't hesitate. We rely on your data."

She met his gaze, calm but focused. "Yes sir."

Erwin's eyes swept the team once more. The map was rolled and returned to his saddle. Then, he mounted up smoothly.

"We'll ride in staggered intervals for the first hour. No chatter unless it's a field report. We pause to assess if we encounter remnants of the last expedition's trail. Remember—our strength is in coordination. We move as one."

A moment passed in silence. The horses shifted beneath them, the mist curling thick around their boots.

Then Erwin gave the word.

"Let's move."

_________________________________

The gates had long disappeared behind them, swallowed by distance and mist.

Valeria held her breath, drawn still by the weight of the moment.

The forest stretched before her in sweeping silence, vast and wild, untouched by the rigid geometry of walls and rooftops. Trees towered like ancient sentries, their limbs gnarled and heavy with dew, bending toward the earth as if bowing to something older than time. Light filtered through the canopy in fragmented rays, casting golden shards across the trail like broken glass. Fog pooled in low patches where the roots dipped, moving like something alive, curling at her boots and dispersing around the horse's steps.

She had seen this place on maps and recreated it in miniature on her workbench, lined with pins and string, to study elevation and terrain structure. But no topography could prepare her for this.

The air felt heavier, like the world beyond the Walls, which carried more weight. More memory.

Bird calls rang in uneven intervals, distant and wild. A single hawk cried overhead, piercing the silence before its wings cut across the treetops. Valeria turned her head to follow its path, a strange chill trickling down her spine. It reminded her of the words she'd once overheard Hanji say with awe in her voice: "You can't hear the wind the same way out here. It just… goes."

Every sound faded too quickly, swallowed by branches and soil. Even the horses' hooves barely left a rhythm, muted thuds against the damp forest floor, like footsteps on a grave.

Her fingers tightened on the reins. You're here. You're outside.

Each breath she took tasted moss, bark, and cold mineral earth. Her lenses adjusted with a small click, narrowing her view to long-range focus. She scanned the distant underbrush, marking fallen logs, potential ambush points, and precise vertical lines for anchor shots.

Still, beneath the structure of observation, something unstructured stirred. Wonder.

For a brief second, she forgot who she was supposed to be. She was the child who stared out the barracks window and asked her father if the sky looked different beyond the Walls.

Now you know, she thought, almost with a laugh.

But the moment passed. Training kicked in like muscle memory. She flexed her grip, tilted slightly in the saddle, and focused on the upcoming terrain. Ahead, Erwin's cape shifted as his horse moved somewhat downhill, the first sign they were nearing the southern basin he had described.

She flicked her eyes to her left. Lenz rode beside her, sharp-eyed and alert, her hand resting casually near her side blades. Riva was already drifting into position at the front flank, her gaze sweeping left to right in precise intervals. Daeric brought up the rear, humming softly under his breath an old habit, perhaps, for keeping calm.

The formation moved like a single, breathing entity. She was part of the rhythm, necessary, and trusted.

A low branch brushed her shoulder. She ducked without thinking.

Focus, she reminded herself. She tapped her fingers twice against the edge of her saddle as she always did when transitioning from observation to mental documentation.

Her thoughts sharpened.

"Moss density on southern-facing trunks is increased more than expected. Likely due to recent rainfall."

"Tree roots exposed along this ridge terrain erosion in progress. Could create collapse zones."

"No signs of Titan damage yet. No broken foliage. No displaced soil."

But something else pulled at her attention.
She didn't know what to call it absence, maybe? The forest was alive, but… it didn't feel inhabited. Like something had passed through and left the air holding its breath.

She swallowed and marked the sensation anyway.

"Silence beyond standard wildlife patterns. Possible recent disturbance?"

The note would mean nothing to someone else. But it would mean something to her. Maybe later or too late.

She clicked her tongue once, a subtle signal to Lenz.

"I'm going to log this ridge's contour shift," Valeria murmured, barely above the rustle of leaves. "Might be something we can use later."

Lenz nodded once. "I'll watch behind."

The trees grew closer together here, more twisted. She shifted her lens dial, watching how the view bent around them, how the light thinned, and how shadows collected at unnatural angles.

The ground sloped unevenly between the roots and ridges, narrowing into what might have once been a trail if not for the strange way the soil dipped and puckered.

She narrowed her lenses again. No hoofprints. No claw marks. But the earth was displaced in a single, deliberate path, carving through the ferns like a wound. Too narrow for a wagon. Too smooth for water erosion.

A low whistle from Daeric carried two short tones from the rear. Confirmed signal. He'd seen it too

"Shift left," Valeria called softly, loud enough for Lenz and Riva to hear without breaking the stillness. "I want a clearer view of the trench."

As they fanned into position, she dismounted with practiced care, one hand on the reins, the other brushing aside a curtain of damp leaves. Kneeling beside the trail, she ran her fingers through the disturbed soil.

It was soft and damp but held no heat. Whatever passed through here, it had been done so days ago. Her thumb caught on a piece of crushed bark wedged into the groove of a cedar branch, stripped clean at the base. She glanced up. There are no broken limbs overhead. Behind her, Riva stepped closer, voice low. "Movement path?"

Valeria nodded. "Possibly quadruped. But coordinated. The trail curves northeast and matches no terrain shift. Something moved with intent."

Riva's eyes narrowed slightly. "Could be a crawler-type. But we've had no reports this deep."

"Seems like we do now," Valeria said, almost to herself. She stood, brushing her gloves clean. She tapped her saddle, in signal, precise in its rhythm. Within seconds, Erwin reined in his horse and brought it to a halt beside her, the worn leather creaking softly under his gloves as he steadied his posture.

"Report," he said, his voice low and firm, measured with the same discipline that had carried him through countless missions, though there was a sharper edge to it now.

Valeria gestured to the trench carved through the forest floor, her tone steady and authoritative. "Observing from my point there is some movement path. No recent prints. But the soil is compressed by something large passed through recently. Movement was low to the ground, but there’s no evidence of dragging. Looks like it moved with intent."

Erwin listened carefully, nodding once, but his gaze held a moment too long not at the trench, but at her. There was something in the way she stood, steady and unshaken. She hadn’t faltered. No nervous glance, no hesitation in her voice. He’d watched seasoned scouts flinch at the unknown, seeing fear undermine even the best instincts. But Valeria remained composed, anchored by a kind of quiet certainty that was neither bravado nor ignorance.

Too composed, he thought. Too assured. Or perhaps simply overprepared. Pixis had pushed for her inclusion on this mission, stating without pause that her insights would prove vital to the success of their operation. Erwin had initially resisted her value in innovation and design, not field combat. She wasn’t a soldier. At least, that’s what he had told himself. But Pixis didn’t recommend it lightly. And he never gambled unless he’d already counted the odds.

Even now, He found himself recalibrating his own assumptions.

Dismounting with silent resolve, Erwin crouched beside the trench. He pressed two gloved fingers into the cool soil. It was moist, compacted, and disturbingly clean. Whatever had moved through here had done so with uncanny precision just like before.

He shifted his gaze back toward her. Valeria was adjusting the dial on her custom lens unit, the device humming faintly as it narrowed her view. She wasn’t showing off. There was no pretense, no glance to see if anyone was watching. Her movements were purely functional, sharpened by discipline rather than pride. A mind like hers thrived on systems patterns, input, and results.

"You believe it was a Titan," he said finally, his voice quieter, more weighted.

She didn’t respond immediately. Hesitation in the face of complexity meant she was thinking deeply about what to say next.

After a beat, she adjusted her lens again and replied, "If it was, it didn’t move like one. There was no draglines. The path is surgically clean. It moved deliberately and intentionally avoided being followed."

Erwin narrowed his eyes. Deliberate concealment. It mirrored a pattern he’d seen once before here, in this very region. A knot formed in his stomach.

The forest around them was too quiet. The stillness wasn’t natural. It clung to the air like smoke after a fire, the kind that lingered long after the chaos had passed.

He rose slowly, brushing a smear of dirt from his palm, gaze fixed on the trees ahead.

"During the last operation in this area," he began, voice low and even though his mind was already sifting through old formations, old errors, "they moved as expected at first erratic, aggressive, driven by instinct. But then something changed. They began flanking. Isolating our less experienced riders. Cutting through our lines with strategy. It wasn’t random."

Valeria turned to face him, brows furrowed in deep focus. Her expression wasn’t fear it was analysis.

"That’s how you lost the rear alignment," she said.

"Yes," he confirmed. "They waited until we were committed, then collapsed both sides inward. Our formation imploded."

"It sounds like evolution," she said, her voice quieter now, thoughtful.

Erwin exhaled, his breath clouding faintly in the chilled forest air. He turned his head, eyes scanning the canopy above.

"It’s choosing when and where to appear. It’s adapting to our methods. And it tests our blind spots. That's exactly what happened through the expedition"

He looked at her again. Still no fear. It was almost unsettling yet compelling.

He could have told her not to be here. That she should’ve remained with her diagrams and drafting tables. But the words felt irrelevant now. Because she wasn’t out of place. It almost seemed like this wasn't even her first mission. 

Chapter Text

A breeze passed through the forest, carrying with it the sharp scent of pine, wet earth, and something faintly metallic. Erwin exhaled, slow and steady, and adjusted the grip on his reins.

Valeria rode quietly beside him now, scanning the trees as if they were paper diagrams waiting to be translated. Every so often, her right lens would click faintly as she adjusted its range, her gloved fingers moving with practiced precision.

He watched from the corner of his eye. There was something oddly familiar with the way her shoulders shifted in rhythm with the horse, how she calculated every variable without pausing to admire the scene. It wasn't awe that filled her, but attention. She reminded him of someone. Himself, perhaps.

The trees thinned slightly ahead, and Erwin gave the signal for a temporary halt. Riva and Lenz adjusted their formation without needing words, Daeric circling out of sight to scout the next ridge.

He dismounted slowly, lowering with one hand on the saddle, the other brushing instinctively along the grip of his ODM handle. The gear was part of him now. The straps, the gas chamber, the blade mechanisms they had long since become extensions of his body, more reliable than breath. And yet. He caught himself glancing at Valeria again. She was adjusting the dial on her chest unit, quietly muttering something under her breath about pressure ratios and pivot joints. Her fingers moved deftly over the customizations she’d made, and he realized she wasn’t just using her gear. She was still studying it.

Erwin's jaw tightened slightly. He remembered their earlier conversation at his desk, the faint scrape of her pen sketching modifications, her confident voice explaining how a slight change to his harness alignment would compensate for that very imbalance. He’d accepted her judgment with no protest. As if her insight was not an intrusion, but a continuation of something already understood.

The forest held its breath with them.

And before Erwin could stop it, memory crept up from the depths of his mind, uninvited.

He was twelve again.

The reins were too thick for his fingers. His horse is too tall. The ODM handles too heavy. Every part of his body ached, his palms raw from gripping both leather and metal at once.

The instructor's voice barked from across the field.

"Grip tighter from your thighs, not your ankles! You’re bouncing like a sack of potatoes!"

He grits his teeth. The saddle jostled beneath him as the horse shifted uneasily, sensing his tension. His hand fought to keep both the reins, and the gear balanced.

He was trying.
He had to try.

The other cadets laughed when he failed to crush the apple Nile had tossed him that night. He’d caught it one-handed, but the fruit barely cracked.

"You’re all brain, no grip," Nile had teased, slouching back against his bunk.

Erwin hadn’t replied. He had stared at the apple and made a vow. One day, he would crush it without effort.

Strength was only the beginning. What truly mattered was understanding how every element worked in tandem the horse beneath him, the gear strapped to his body all of it had to move as one, without hesitation or thought.

Has she ever had that same experience?
The pressure of expectations tightening around your ribs like a strap pulled too hard. The quiet knowledge that one mistake just one could ripple into someone else’s death.

That was part of why he hadn’t wanted her on this mission. She was capable. Brilliant, even. But outside the Walls… things changed. The silence hit differently out here. There were no diagrams for grief. No calculations for loss.

He’d seen it too many times. A promising mind crushed under the weight of a returned expedition report. The kind that ended with a name crossed out. Relationships you weren’t allowed to have. Regrets you couldn’t say aloud. And guilt the kind you learned to wear like a uniform.

That was the life she’d be walking into. And part of him hated it.

But the truth was unavoidable, the expedition was successful, in part, because of her. Because her instructions had taught the others how to adapt, how to maneuver when the unexpected hit. Some scouts had fallen but most had survived because she’d taught them to think ahead, respond in an instant.

A rustle in the leaves snapped him back to the present.

“I want to thank you for your contribution of giving former instruction to our current scouts. Without it, more wouldn’t have made it back during the previous expedition.” He spoke.

Valeria looked at him, a quiet smile tugging at her lips before she glanced away. “Well, as Pixis put it… if you’re going to trust someone to teach survival, it might as well be the one who understands the screws holding it all together. I’m honored.” She turned back to him, head tilting, a quiet surprise. As if searching for his expression for context.

“…But why bring that up now?” she asked gently.

Erwin went quiet, the forest breathing around them.

Then, with a slight hesitation, his voice low
“As much as I acknowledge it… you’re one of the few who’s lived to see their efforts matter.”

He glanced ahead, eyes narrowed on the quiet curve of the trail.
“It’s not easy, stepping into the Survey Corps. Let alone survive an expedition. Most don’t make it back and never get to see the impact they made.” He didn’t look at her when he spoke, he continued voice calm, measured.  “We lose people. Sometimes the best of them. And you start to wonder if anything you’ve done has ever been enough.”

The silence that followed felt loud.
He didn’t mean to say that.
Did I say too much?

“…You’ve carried it far enough that others still believe it’s worth going. That must mean something,” she said softly.

“I don’t think anyone can carry all of this and not wonder,” she said.
“Your scouts still believe there’s something worth fighting for.” she said, smiling. She stood there. Clear-eyed. Listening to him without flinching. Offering some understanding.

He shifted, clearing his throat.

“I wanted to ask after everything we talked about yesterday how does it feel to be out here? Seeing it firsthand.”

Valeria stood there, thinking for a moment.
“It’s both more and less than I expected,” she said, her eyes lifting to the canopy above. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the branches, painting her face in gold and green. “I’ve studied some of these trails for a while. But standing here…” Her words faded into a soft chuckle. “I think I was expecting our first Titan encounter by now. Hanji made it sound like they’d be waiting around every tree.”

Erwin smirked at her. “We can go find one if you'd like.”

Her head whipped toward him. “Like now?”

He glanced toward the rest of the squad, voice returning to command.
“Riva, Lenz tighten your perimeter. Daeric, eyes west. Flare if anything breaches line of sight.”

Then, to Valeria, he nodded toward a narrow trail splitting through dense trees.
“There’s a spot just beyond this ridge,” he said. “It’s one of the few areas Titans have been observed… resting, maybe. But don’t let that fool you.”

“They can still see you. And they won’t always give warning.”

Valeria’s expression sobered. But she nodded. “I understand.”

The path narrowed as they moved a single file through the undergrowth. Ferns brushed their boots. The forest felt quieter here not empty, but paused, as if something larger was listening.

They rode in silence until the terrain dipped. Erwin slowed his horse and stopped “We can dismount.”

Valeria obeyed without question, landing light. She scanned the glade ahead, nothing moved. Beyond the cluster of trees stood a single Titan, tall, gaunt, and motionless. Its eyes weren’t blank like the others she’d seen in sketches.

He lowered his voice, “what do you make of it? What type do you think it is?”

“I would say standard class, it doesn’t look like its doing anything but standing there. She turned to him, an unmistakable glint in her eyes. “Do you think it hears us?” she whispered, giddy, like someone spotting a rare bird. Erwin glanced sideways. For a moment, the tension in his brow softened just slightly, almost confused by her reaction. “Possibly,” he said, watching the Titan shift ever so slightly, its head tilted.

“I’d say standard class. Seven meters, maybe a bit more.” She kept her voice low, but her excitement peeked through. “Almost like it’s thinking.”

Erwin raised a brow. “You think Titans think?”

“I mean… look at it,” she whispered, eyes wide. “That head tilt? That’s not random. It’s registering something. Almost as if its intentional.”

He watched her, the way she leaned forward a fraction more, nose nearly brushing the edge of the log. She looked like she was watching a creature no one else had ever seen.

“Hanji said Titans hum sometimes when they’re still,” she added. “I used to think it was just poetic exaggeration, but… do you hear it? It’s like… a vibration.”

They both went silent for a moment to listen.

And there it was a faint frequency, like pressure humming just below the edge of hearing.

Erwin’s eyes flicked to hers. “You’re right.”

Valeria turned to him, a grin threatening at the corners of her mouth.
“You hear it too?”

How does she even notice that?

“You know,” Erwin said, a rare edge of amusement in his voice, “for someone technically labeled an engineer, you’re surprisingly excited to see a Titan.”

“If our positions were reversed, Commander,” she quipped, “I’d say the same thing. That’s how you know Hanji’s corrupted me.” She squinted through the trees, still smiling. “Next thing you know, I’ll be naming them.”.

Valeria’s grin hadn’t even fully faded when the Titan stirred. Its weight creaked the ground. One foot dragged forward through the earth slowly.

Erwin’s gaze sharpened instantly. “Back,” he said, voice low but firm.

Valeria crouched, instincts scrambling to catch up with the reality of what she was seeing. It moved. The hum had changed. No longer faint background vibration, it thickened into something heavier. Something alert.

“Did it… see us?” she whispered.

Erwin didn’t answer. His hand was already on his gear.

“Riva, Lenz,” he called into the forest. “We have movement. Eyes on the ridge, right flank. Daeric get above it and signal if more follow.”

Valeria kept her body low, but her hands hovered near her own gear. She felt his presence at her back, solid and calm.

“Valeria,” he said without turning. “Still no movement beyond the ridge?”

She swallowed, raising her lens again. The scope adjusted. “Nothing yet. Just the one. Still standing.”

“Then we act now. There might be other squandering around”

He paused, his eyes meeting hers “You stay on the high log. Use it for cover. If anything breaks through the tree line, you’re the first voice to signal.” She nodded, adjusting her position.

She moved quickly, leaping from root to trunk until she reached the highest limb of a towering tree. The bark scratched beneath her gloves as she steadied herself, lens glinting in the filtered light. From this vantage point, she had a full view of the clearing below.

Below her, Erwin raised his arm for his signal.

The team moved like clockwork.

Riva launched first, blades drawn, cutting a sharp arc through the air. Daeric took the rear clean, efficient, striking like a lever in a well-oiled machine. Lenz flanked from the left, triggering one of Valeria’s dispersion orbs mid-flight. A bloom of smoke concealed her advance, letting her burst through a cluster of hanging branches undetected.

The Titan below barely had time to shift before its neck was split clean, steam hissing up into the forest canopy.

Valeria watched in awe. She had simulated the angles, tested the momentum shifts, and refined the balance between speed and force. But watching them now was something else entirely.

The forest below was light with motion and steam, a choreography of blades and propulsion. Every sweep of metal felt like a line being drawn through her diagrams as if her blueprints had stepped into reality.

Her heart surged with something unnamable.

And then—

A low rumble.

Branches snapped behind her. She spun around, lens adjusting, knees bracing. Just in time to catch the silhouette of another Titan smaller, wiry, fast emerging from the trees, drawn by the scent of steam and blood.

She held her breath, fingers instinctively brushing the flare latch on her belt.

But Erwin had already seen it. His gear fired with a metallic thrum, lines anchoring to the trunk just beneath her perch. The squad adjusted without hesitation. Like gears rotating in tandem, they adapted.

Riva and Daeric distracted. Lenz, now repositioned to one of Valeria’s signal darts, redirected. Erwin struck.

The second Titan fell just as quickly. A clean arc through nape and tendon. More steam. More silence.

The steam was still rising. Tendrils of heat curling through branches like signals in reverse silent testimony to the moment just passed.

Erwin’s looked upwards toward the canopy.

Valeria stood on the high branch, her figure caught between beams of filtered light and drifting shadow. Wind moved gently through the leaves, catching loose strands of her hair and lifting them in quiet spirals. Her stance remained still.

Studying her, she didn’t move. No response. There was no exhale of victory, no slackening of posture, no visible tell. She stood like she’d seen something sacred.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. She wouldn’t be the type to break that easily. She absorbed things, catalogued them, processed them. She understood systems. But this? This wasn’t a system you could diagram. It was blood and instinct and the screaming of muscle and metal.

So, what was she thinking right now?

That was the part that unnerved him more than anything, the fact that he couldn’t tell.

Others would’ve flinched. He’d seen recruits double over after their first clean kill. He’d seen hardened soldiers grow brittle with repetition. But Valeria… she stood at the edge of it all, untouched.

She looked down then. Their eyes met across the steam and sunlight. But something in his chest pulled taut. He turned back to the forest floor, the steam curling against his boots like smoke off a battlefield pyre.

What had she taken from this? Was she already filing it away in her mind? Reworking the angles, the lines, the chaos?

He didn’t know. And the not-knowing lodged itself in the back of his mind like a blade waiting to twist.

The mission would move forward. There were more commands to give, more ground to cover. But a part of him stayed behind for just a second longer.

I shouldn’t be overthinking. She’s only here for the first mission and that’s it.

He forced himself to shift his focus, scanning the tree line ahead. But his mind lingered behind.

Then, from somewhere above—

“COMMANDER!”

He blinked, instinctively glancing skyward.

Valeria was perched high on the branch, one arm balanced against the trunk, her silhouette framed in steam and filtered sunlight. She waved like she was trying to flag down a fly.

“THIS IS A STUPID QUESTION BUT—WHERE DOES ALL THE STEAM GO?”

Erwin stared.

She cupped her hands around her mouth, projecting with absolutely no sense of tactical volume: “LIKE ARE WE BREATHING TITAN RIGHT NOW?!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

A beat. Then the faint hiss of gas Valeria dropped lightly from the tree, landing in a controlled crouch nearby.

She stood, brushing herself off as if yelling from treetops was standard procedure. “I'm just saying, it's a lot of particulate matter. Respiratory implications.”

Erwin gave her a long look and chuckled. “We’re surrounded by steam, and you’re concerned about lung exposure?”

“Could be corrosive over time,” she offered, deadpan. “Hanji says we don’t talk about it enough.”

He turned back to the trail with a sound that might’ve been a sigh or a laugh. It was hard to tell.

She went beside him, light on her feet, the steam curling around her boots. Her cheeks were a little flushed whether from the drop, the altitude, or the aftermath of adrenaline?

“I mean, okay that was objectively impressive,” she said, sweeping a hand toward the clearing where the bodies lay dissolving. “I’ve modeled trajectories, calculated reaction time, studied blade velocity… but that was something else.”

Erwin glanced at her side long. “Is that engineer speak for ‘nice kill’?”

She smirked. “I’m saying you made it look too clean. Like someone rehearsed it.”

“And your tools?” he asked, voice low.

She blinked realizing “They worked,” she said, softer now. “The dart helped Lenz realign. The smoke cleared one of the flanks just in time. I... wasn’t sure they’d hold under pressure.” The genuine relief.

“Feels like you were part of the fight.” He spoke.

Valeria looked away briefly, just long enough to pretend the sudden weight in her chest didn’t settle too hard. “Still wish I brought an extra dart, though. For research.”

He almost smiled.

The team regrouped, Lenz glanced up toward the tree line. “Valeria! That signal dart nailed the angle. I thought I was cornered.”

“Yeah,” Daeric added, clapping the side of his gear. “Smoke from that orb covered the flank bought us just enough time to reposition.” Even Riva, ever silent, gave a short nod of approval.

Erwin caught Valeria’s reaction surprised at first, then quietly pleased.

“I’m glad they worked field tests are never the same as simulations.” She smiled

“They saved lives today,” Erwin said. He turned toward the west. The air felt still, the kind of still that always came before a shift in weather or something worse.

No abnormalities. No patterns broken. Just a lone Titan, still and humming. That bothered him.

“We’re pulling back,” he said. His voice cut through the air like a wire drawn taut. “No more movement for today. We'll rechart this perimeter at the end of the week. If that Titan was a straggler, more may follow.”

The scouts nodded without question, already rechecking their gear.

He glanced once more toward Valeria. The fading light caught in her hair as she adjusted her lens, fingers steady, slipping a spare dart back into its holster. She hadn’t said much since the fight ended. And he found himself wondering again what was she thinking? Was she considering returning for another mission?

The thought lingered longer than it should have. It wasn’t his decision to bring her again.

Chapter Text

The mission had ended, but its silence clung to the room like smoke, thin, persistent, and impossible to ignore. Valeria had made it through her first mission set with Erwin, and yet it's caught somewhere between anticipation and the quiet hope of being chosen again. Would there be another mission? Would she continue without Erwin or the rest of the scouts? Would the idea of joining a mission be enough, or was it the expedition she truly wanted?

“Would you like to walk with me?” Erwin asked, standing. Valeria smiled and nodded as she walked up next to him.

They stepped out into the corridor and the cool hush of the evening. Lanterns swayed gently along the walkway, casting flickering patterns across the stone. Their boots fell into step with one another, quiet against the gravel, the distant hum of conversation trailing from deeper in the compound. A perimeter scout whistled once, low and rhythmic, as the gates creaked faintly in the distance. Then, as they passed the edge of the stables, the question came low, even, carried more by the night than by volume.

“So what did you think?” Erwin asked, breaking the silence. “Are you talking about seeing Titans up close?” she asked. He nodded in response. "It wasn't what I expected. I would have assumed they were as tall as the trees,” she chuckled. “They also didn't move the way I thought they would. Hanji's notes always made them sound erratic. I would assume there are yet to see all different kinds”.

"And you're right, there may be Titans we haven’t even discovered yet. I’m pretty sure the ones I encountered on the last expedition pushed further out than our usual range. Though I'm relieved we all made it back safely."

"Are you saying that because Pixis is bound to probably blow your head off if he finds out something happened with me?" she giggled. "I'm sure he'll know we're fine no doubt." She reached down absently to her hip, adjusting the sheath on her ODM mount as they walked. Erwin slowed slightly to match her pace, watching the practiced efficiency in her hands. “I’m still not used to being part of the report instead of writing one, you know I always spent my time with the architecture of mobility gear,” she added. “Guess I never thought I’d be out there long enough to care about how the Gear felt during live use.”

She paused under one of the larger courtyard lanterns, its light casting her features in a soft amber hue. “But I get it, with why you need the field and complementing it with all these theories. It adds up to all my calculations with physics."

Erwin stopped beside her, letting the moment rest. His voice was quiet, warm with something nearly fond. “I suppose that’s why we need engineers like you in the first place.”

Valeria smiled faintly, though her gaze had drifted to the sky.

______________________________________________

She remembered a dusk-lit evening years ago.

Being in her father's workshop. The forge had cooled, and blueprints rolled tight on the edge of the worktable. Outside, the faint hum of distant bells carried over the rooftops. She was wiping soot from her hands, and her sleeves rolled up, her braid loose and frayed from the long day.

“You’ve been quiet,” her father said, not looking up from the chart he was annotating.

Valeria hesitated before answering. “I just… I don’t get it sometimes. Why work so hard to perfect Gear most people will never use? Why build for something we’ve never seen with our own eyes?”

Her father looked at her then, not with disappointment but with something gentler. Understanding.

“We build because someone else will need it when we’re not there." She frowned. “But what if I’m not good enough to be the person they rely on?”

He chuckled softly, scribbling one last note before setting the pencil down. “Then you keep building until you are. And one day, someone will walk into a battlefield, survive by seconds, and not even realize it was your hands that made the difference.” He reached out, tapping her chest lightly over her heart.

“They just need to make it home. Remember that. They trust and rely on us more than you think.”

______________________________________________

“My father used to say something like that,” Valeria began, her voice quiet as they turned down a stone-lined path near the western wall. “About building for people you may never meet, or trust being passed forward without question.” Her thumb brushed along the worn edge of her gear strap. “Even though he was a good mentor, he was more of a forge philosopher,” she added with a soft laugh. “But he believed knowledge was a form of protection. Said the world outside the Walls deserved more than fear.”

They passed beneath a low-hanging lantern. Its light flickered against her cheek as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Was that something you grew up hearing?” Erwin whispered.

She nodded, slowing her pace just slightly. “It sounded idealistic when I was younger. But lately, I’ve started to wonder if he was right. Perhaps there is something worth building out there.” She hesitated as they reached the edge of a training ground, casting warped shadows in the grass. “From my recent experience of our expedition, it feels that there is more out there than just grass and trees... other than what Titans might seem to be. But there is also something that doesn't satisfy the thought, I just can't put the words through it.” She glanced toward him, her expression uncertain beneath the lamplight. “What about you? Have you ever been told things like that? About what might be waiting past the horizon?”

Erwin didn’t answer right away.

The weight of her words lingered in the space between them like a mist of stone. He watched her from the corner of his eye, the way her fingers played again with the strap on her gear, how the slight crease between her brows deepened as if she were chasing his thoughts that stayed just out of reach. It reminded him of a younger version of himself the one who hadn’t yet learned what questions could cost. He let the silence sit a little longer before exhaling. “Yes.” Valeria looked at him, surprised at the simplicity of the reply.

Erwin kept his eyes ahead as they walked, his voice low, unguarded. “When I was a boy, my father was a teacher. A quiet man, thoughtful. He asked questions that most didn’t or wouldn’t. Not because he wanted to rebel, but because the truth mattered to him.”

Their steps echoed faintly along the outer wall, where stone met old moss and lamplight didn’t quite reach. “He had a theory. That the history I was taught inside the Walls wasn’t complete. That the government was hiding something. At the time, I didn’t fully understand it. I thought it was fascinating, something worth sharing.” He paused, his jaw tightening slightly as they slowed near a break in the courtyard. “I asked about it. Once. In front of my classmates. They found out. And a week later, he was gone.” Valeria didn’t speak, just walked beside him in silence, attentive. “I spent years believing I’d gotten him killed.” His voice didn’t crack. “But what haunted me more was that no one cared. No one asked why. No one challenged it.” Erwin finally turned his head, eyes meeting hers. “That’s when I realized something. If truth exists beyond the horizon, someone has to be willing to reach it. Even if it costs them everything.” Valeria’s expression held onto his, her steps slowing slightly. “Now,” he said, steady, “I keep walking. Because I want to know if he was right. I need to know if all of this, every sacrifice, meant something.” Valeria looked down, her boots pressing gently into the gravel, then back up, her voice nearly a whisper. “I think he’d be proud. Of what you’ve done.” Erwin didn’t reply his shoulders eased just slightly. He slowed to a stop near the edge of a worn practice ring. “Tell me more about your father,” he said. “The one who believed in building something for a future he might never see.”

Valeria exhaled, running a thumb along the spine of her ODM gear at her side, the motion quiet and steady. “My father wasn’t a soldier. He never saw combat. But he believed the battlefield started long before anyone picked up a blade.” Erwin tilted his head, listening. “He helped design part of the regulator system in the early ODM models. It was just a small component, some copper wiring, and a pressure valve, but it reduced recoil just enough for faster mid-air pivots. Most people never even knew it was there.” She gave a small, sheepish laugh. “He used to say every click, every anchor point… had to mean something. Because someone out there would trust it with their life without ever knowing who built it.” Her pace slowed as she spoke, gaze dropping again. “I didn’t understand it back then. I thought I had to be on the field to matter. That if I wasn’t facing Titans, I wasn’t helping. But after today, watching them move, seeing what this gear does I feel like I get it now.” She brushed her fingers across a scuff on the metal casing near her hip, thumb lingering there.

“My father died in a workshop accident. A cable snapped during a stress test. The pressure valve misfired. He was working late. Seems like he wanted to calibrate the system before the next shipment. I wasn’t even there. I was across the district to even know. They told me it was fast. That he didn’t feel it.” She drew a slow breath, jaw tensing. “I think they meant it as comfort.” She took a moment of silence as she closed her eyes. “Pixis came the next day. I didn’t talk to him much, but he helped me pack up his notes. He told me, ‘You don’t have to finish his work. But you can carry it further.’” She looked down at her Gear again, fingers brushing the edge of its frame.

“So I did... Pixis was the one who made sure I didn’t waste what he left behind,” she said, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. “When I took his place, I was faced with a lot of emotions... Grief makes you want to prove something. I wanted to fix everything, every flaw, every failure. Every death I thought Gear could’ve prevented.”

She paused. “He saw it. All of it. My stubbornness, my frustration. He didn’t try to talk me down. He just gave me space. Let me scrap prototypes. Trusted me with field tests no one else would.”

She looked at Erwin then, eyes soft with memory. “He told me once I reminded him of someone who’d already lost too much to do things halfway. Now, every time I hear the gas chamber fire clean… I wonder if someone's life was saved because of him. Because of something he fixed a hundred times before it ever mattered.”

Another pause. Her fingers tapped the casing once. “It was a clean mistake,” she said finally. “One engineers make when they believe too much in their tools… and not enough in their limits.”

Erwin’s gaze stayed on her. Quiet. Attentive.

Valeria gave a soft sigh. “You’re the commander, not a therapist,” she said, voice low, a flicker of warmth behind it a breath between truths. Erwin didn’t reply at first, but the silence between them softened. “Seems like you and I have something relatively in common.” She looked down at the groove in her Gear again. “Well, still… thanks. For listening.”

“You’ve earned more than that,” he said, voice lower now. Valeria looked away. “I guess we’re going to have to brief Pixis tomorrow, aren’t we?” He nodded.

“He’ll want a full breakdown. Perimeter observations, engagement timing, Titan classifications... and likely a commentary on your signal darts.” Valeria snorted. “Tell him they didn’t explode. That’s a win.”

“Pixis prefers details,” Erwin replied, a trace of dry humor returning.

“Though I’m sure he’ll appreciate your enthusiasm.”

She leaned back slightly, arms folding behind her as she stretched her fingers. “I can finish the gear report and run a systems analysis if you want. Make it clean for review.” Erwin gave a slow nod, still watching the gravel path ahead as they walked. “Your analysis will help,” he said. “Pixis trusts your technical read more than most.”

Valeria didn’t respond, but her expression was proud and focused. She was already turning things over in her head. Erwin’s pace slowed slightly. He looked ahead, but his thoughts had shifted inward again. “You know he’ll ask if I plan to assign you again.” That made her pause mid-step. The quiet caught up to them again. She looked over, unsure whether it was a question, a test, or something already decided. “I don’t put names forward lightly,” he said, still watching the tree line. "And I know Pixis will listen to my recommendation. Which means… I have to be sure.”

Valeria didn’t interrupt. “It’s not your performance I’m weighing,” he added. “You did well out there. Especially with your new tools.” She let the silence settle between them. “So what are you weighing?”

Erwin exhaled through his nose, the faintest shake of his head.

“The cost of putting someone like you in a place where design stops being theory. Where you don’t get to fix things afterward.”

Valeria slowed her pace. Then leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees as they reached the low wall by the perimeter edge.

“I’ve already made peace with that. I want to build the right tools… and stand with the people who need them.”

"I’ll speak to him in the morning,” he said quietly. “We’ll see what the next formation looks like,” he said.

"Also, would you mind if I stop by your office after your talk with Pixis? I want to get an analysis of your full gear," she smiled. "Not a problem, I'll be looking forward to it," he said.

"I appreciate everything, especially being trusted on this mission. No matter the circumstances I’ll follow whatever works best between our divisions.” She gave a slight bow and a faint smile. “I’ll head back to my quarters until then. Thank you, Commander."

Chapter Text

Hello everyone! I wanted to let you all know that I’ll be taking a short writing hiatus through October to focus on some personal commitments. But do NOT WORRY ! I’ll be back with updates in November and excited to share more from Valeria and Erwin’s story!

In the meantime, feel free to follow me on Instagram: @citadelhearts  I post dedicated content about my OC Valeria there, including commissioned art and bts of my thoughts on the story. 

Thank you for your support and patience, it means a lot ! <3