Attack On Titan: Hope

The afternoon sun painted the barren land in hues of deep orange, its rays casting long shadows over the cadets' weary faces. Sweat glistened on their brows as their backs and waists screamed in protest after hours of relentless ODM maneuvering.

"ON YOUR FEET, MAGGOTS! ANOTHER ROUND!" Keith's gruff voice boomed across the field, reverberating like a hammer on steel. The cadets groaned in unison, their collective fatigue tangible.

Keith held a worn notebook in his hand, its brown leather cover scuffed but sturdy. His sunken golden eyes scanned the group, lingering on four cadets who stood apart in a loose circle—Armin, Eren, Mikasa, and Christa. But his gaze sharpened when it landed on Eren, the boy with turquoise eyes that seemed to pierce through the fatigue of the day.

Eren's hands rested casually in his pockets, his expression unreadable as he gave instructions to Mikasa and Christa. His voice, low and detached, carried a certain authority that silenced even the smallest of doubts.

"Ackerman," he said, his tone clipped and matter-of-fact. "Wounds should be deeper."

Mikasa nodded without hesitation, her gaze steady and resolute.

Eren turned to Christa next. "Christa, you've gotten much better. Keep it up. I believe you'll end up in the top ten."

Her face lit up with enthusiasm, a sharp contrast to Mikasa's measured response.

Armin, standing slightly apart, chimed in, his voice tinged with excitement. "Actually, it turns out Christa's already in the top ten," he said, causing the group to freeze mid-breath.

"What?" Christa's and Mikasa's eyes widened in unison, their disbelief palpable.

Armin raised his hands, offering a sheepish smile. "I might be wrong, but I saw your name on the list."

"Who else?" Mikasa asked, her voice laced with quiet urgency, but Armin shook his head.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But I think Reiner and Bertholdt were also on it."

Christa's joy bubbled over, a bright smile breaking across her face as she clung to Eren's arm. Mikasa, however, stood motionless, her breaths shallow, her fists clenched at her sides as her gaze dropped to the ground.

"Eren, did you hear what Armin said?" Christa cooed, her voice sweet and full of excitement as she leaned closer to him.

Eren sighed, his tone as indifferent as ever. "Yeah, yeah. But that doesn't mean you get to slack off during training."

Christa beamed at his response, casting a quick, almost triumphant glance at Mikasa, who swallowed hard but said nothing.

Armin broke the awkward silence with a wistful smile. "I can't believe we'll graduate in just three months..."

His words hung in the air, met with no response except for Christa's giggles as she shifted her attention between Ymir and Eren, the latter pulling his arm free with a deliberate motion.

As Keith finished marking his records and dismissed the class, Eren moved past Mikasa without a word, his footsteps steady and deliberate. But as he passed, his low voice reached only her ears.

"Midnight. Near the forest. Bring your gear. Don't be late."

Mikasa's eyes widened slightly, her head tilting in subtle acknowledgment.

Eren continued walking, his expression bored and indifferent, blending seamlessly with the rest of the cadets. But his focus was elsewhere, his eyes flicking toward a faint blue screen only visible to him.

---

Bonus Mission:

Training with Mikasa Ackerman

Completion: (0/1)

Status: Pending

Rewards:

ODM Gear Mastery: Level 11

Blade Mastery: Level 9

Chameleon: Level 6

Fire Surge: Level 7

200 System Points

---

"Huh," Eren muttered under his breath, his tone as flat as ever. "What a hassle."

Eren's eyes then landed on the two brothers sparring nearby, the Galliards—Porco and Marcel. He paused momentarily, watching as Porco charged recklessly toward Marcel, whose calm demeanor and precise movements easily overpowered his younger brother. Eren's gaze lingered for a brief second before he continued toward the mess hall.

Inside, the air was thick with chatter and the clinking of utensils. Eren found a secluded corner and settled there, his head propped lazily on his palm as he sipped his stew. His mind wandered into a storm of thoughts, reflections on the day swirling like restless shadows.

His moment of peace, however, was short-lived. Annie entered the hall, her expression as bored as his own. With most of the tables already occupied, she made her way toward him, pulling out the seat next to his.

Soon after, Reiner, Bertholdt, Marcel, Porco, and Pieck followed, their trays in hand.

"Yo, Eren," Reiner called out as he approached. "You don't mind, do you?"

Eren, who had already noticed their figures before they spoke, opened his eyes slowly, his turquoise gaze shifting to meet Reiner's.

"Why bother asking when you've already decided to sit?" he said, his tone flat, yet sharp enough to leave an impression.

Reiner rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, gripping the edges of his tray with his other hand holding it straight. "Oh, my apologies," he mumbled, making a half-hearted motion as if to leave.

Eren sighed and replied. "It's fine. I was leaving anyway."

Before he could take another sip, the tension in the air shifted.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Lenz?" Porco's voice erupted like a crack of thunder, his rage spilling into the room.

The hall fell silent, heads turning toward the outburst. Annie's jaw tightened as her hand curled into a fist under the table, her knuckles whitening against her skin.

Eren paused, his expression unreadable as his eyes flicked between Porco and Annie, his earlier detachment still lingered.

"Porco, that's enough," Marcel said, his hand firm on his younger brother's shoulder, trying to deescalate the tension.

But Porco shoved it off, his eyes blazing with fury. "No! I'm done with this asshole. Just who the fuck do you think you are, Lenz?" His voice boomed as his fists slammed against the table, the sound reverberating through the mess hall like a challenge issued.

Eren didn't flinch. His voice came low, steady, almost unnervingly calm. "I don't need your validation. I know exactly who I am." His half-lidded turquoise eyes met Porco's with a coldness that could freeze fire. It wasn't just his words—it was the eerie stillness, the icy authority in his tone that sent chills rippling through the cadets watching the confrontation unfold.

"Yeah? Then you're probably aware of how arrogant your dumb ass is," Porco spat, circling the table to stand directly in front of Eren. His aggression was palpable, but Eren didn't even turn to face him fully, his indifference as sharp as any blade.

"If you don't like me, that's your problem, not mine," Eren replied, unfazed, taking a deliberate sip of his stew. He reached for the dry loaf of bread and bit into it, his nonchalant demeanor fueling Porco's frustration.

"Hey, Porco, calm down," Bertholdt interjected nervously, his lanky frame stiff as he tried to mediate. "He's kind of right... We all know he prefers being alone."

Porco's head snapped toward him, his glare like a dagger. "Keep your mouth shut, coward," he snarled, silencing Bertholdt instantly before turning his fury back to Eren.

Eren sighed deeply, the sound both tired and dismissive. Clutching his tray, he finally stood, his movements measured, deliberate. As he turned to leave, Porco stepped into his path, blocking him.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going? I'm not done talking," Porco growled, his face inches from Eren's.

Eren's gaze locked with his, a glacier meeting fire. "Galliard," he muttered, his tone low and cutting, "if you're looking for a fight, I'm not interested.

Eren paused mid-step as Porco's voice rang out, dripping with venom. "And what if I am."

Eren his voice stern replied,"I'm not in the mood of beating you in front of everyone."

Porco stepped forward till his forehead was almost touching Eren's "Tch... Just because you were able to kill some half-assed bandits doesn't make you any stronger than me."

Eren tilted his head slightly, just enough to look him in his eyes. His voice was calm, almost dismissive. "Maybe it does."

The audacity of the statement caused a ripple of disbelief among the cadets watching. Some clenched their jaws, others glanced at each other uneasily. Was it arrogance? Confidence? Or just brutal honesty? For Eren, it wasn't about proving anything. He wasn't self-important—just painfully honest, and that honesty stung more than any insult.

Porco's eyes burned with fury. "Shut up, you bastard," he snapped, swiping at Eren's tray and sending the dishes clattering onto the wooden floor.

Eren didn't flinch. He didn't dodge. The crash echoed in the mess hall, but he remained steady, his posture relaxed, his eyes dull. Porco had no idea Eren had already calculated every angle of this encounter.

He wasn't going to rise to the bait for three reasons: First, the fight would be pointless and earn him no merit. Second, despite Porco's taunts, Eren wouldn't throw the first punch, keeping himself in the clear. And third, Eren knew Keith was watching—his shadow barely visible through the foggy window outside.

"I'm not interested in fighting someone like you, Galliard," Eren said, his voice flat and steady.

Porco's lip curled into a sneer. "What, you scared?"

"No," Eren replied simply, his words like ice. "I'd rather give up on fighting than waste my time on you."

Porco's frustration hit its boiling point. A vein pulsed beneath his eye as he lunged forward, aiming a wild punch straight at Eren's face.

Eren ducked effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise. He caught Porco's wrist mid-swing, yanked him forward, and drove a devastating punch into his gut knocking the air out of him.

The impact was brutal—Porco's eyes rolled back, his mouth hung open, and a guttural "Eugh..." escaped as saliva dripped from his lips. Eren released his wrist, letting Porco crumple to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

"PORCO!" Pieck's voice cut through the stunned silence as she rushed to his side, helping him sit up.

Porco groaned, his body slack for a moment as if his soul had been knocked clean out of him. Slowly, his focus returned, and his eyes burned with defiance. "A... Asshole..."

Eren's turquoise gaze bore into him, unflinching and cold. "Don't fool yourself, Galliard. Even at my worst, I'm still better than you. Accept it."

Porco gritted his teeth. "Just because you caught me off guard doesn't—"

"No one cares about your excuses," Eren cut him off, his voice low and sharp. "Only results matter. And as far as I can see, you're all talk. Whine all you want. In the end, you'll die crushed under the teeth of some mindless Titan."

Before Porco could retaliate, the mess hall door slammed open, and Keith Shadis stepped in, his glare like a storm cloud ready to burst.

"Well, well, look what we have here," Keith said, his tone dripping with mockery. His eyes locked onto Porco. "Galliard! Please, allow me the privilege of spending the rest of the night with you."

Porco stiffened, his face falling as Keith dragged him out.

Eren exhaled softly, too uninterested to offer any explanation. He turned and left without a word, Historia and Ymir trailing behind him.

On the other side of the hall, Armin had his hands full. He gripped Mikasa's arm tightly, her sharp glare and dark circles of rage promising doom for Porco. "Mikasa... no," Armin hissed, his voice panicked.

Her icy grey eyes locked onto the door Porco had disappeared through. "He's lucky Keith got to him first," she muttered, her voice low and seething.

Mikasa's fury eventually ebbed, the fire in her chest cooling into a simmering frustration. Armin's grip on her arm loosened, and she wordlessly shook him off, her steps leading her toward the training grounds. The sound of muffled strikes reached her ears before the sight came into view.

Eren stood before an old oak log, his knuckles raw and bloodied. His fists struck the wood with relentless precision, each punch landing in the shallow crater he'd carved into the surface. The repetitive thud echoed through the grounds, steady and unyielding, like a heartbeat.

"The quietest lives have suffered the most,"