Reincarnated In Attack On Titan World As Nobody

Bang!

The sound was dull but unmistakable—a solid punch landing with weight behind it. The boy who had taken Shin's first strike crumpled to the ground with a choked gasp, rolling onto his side and clutching his stomach as he groaned in pain.

The remaining four apprentices didn't hesitate. Shouting, they surged forward to surround him, fists already swinging.

But Shin didn't back down.

He didn't even flinch.

He let their punches land. A few struck his ribs, one clipped his shoulder, and another slammed into his chest—but Shin barely reacted. His face remained cold, focused. He targeted his counterattacks with brutal precision: fists smashing into guts, faces, and unprotected thighs. He struck low, fast, and hard.

Screams erupted one after another.

In less than a minute, the fight was over. All four attackers were on the ground, writhing, groaning, gasping for breath. None of them dared rise again.

Around the depot, apprentices and blacksmiths who had gathered to watch the show were frozen in place. They swallowed hard, their gazes flicking from the downed boys to the calm figure standing over them.

Shin hadn't said a single word during the entire fight.

He didn't need to.

His silence, paired with that emotionless stare, sent a chill down every spine present. It was the silence of someone who had already calculated the consequences—and chosen violence anyway.

A few apprentices quickly looked away, their petty jealousy snuffed out by the unspoken warning.

Do not provoke this guy.

Shin let his gaze sweep over the five groaning bodies at his feet. His voice was quiet, low, and cold as steel.

"I'm still working. You've got three seconds to get at least ten meters away from me. If you're still here after that—don't blame me for what happens next."

No one hesitated.

"Yes! We're leaving!"

The battered group scrambled to their feet, stumbling and limping as they bolted for the far side of the warehouse. One of them even tripped over a crate in his panic but didn't dare stop.

Watching them flee, Shin shook his head slightly. Tch. Guess I underestimated how fast they could move when properly motivated.

He didn't dwell on it.

Turning back to his workstation, Shin picked up the next blade and resumed sharpening it with calm, practiced hands. According to his mental tally, he had already completed over ninety knives. The end of the task was within sight.

A small fire of satisfaction burned in his chest.

Just three more points to strength, coordination, and weapon mastery...

Shin's confidence in his abilities wasn't baseless. He'd worked harder than anyone in the forge. His physique had changed, his instincts had sharpened, and his technique had become refined enough to rival that of journeyman blacksmiths. Beyond that, he had connections—earned, not given.

Keith Shadis, the head of the Survey Corps, had known his father. That alone guaranteed Shin a spot on the reserve list. And Harry, respected as one of the top blacksmiths in the district, had all but vouched for him.

When the time came, Shin would step into the battlefield with more than just brute force. He'd walk in with preparation—and purpose.

Not long after the scuffle ended, Harry and several other blacksmiths returned to the depot. Unsurprisingly, it didn't take them long to notice the aftermath.

One look at the battered apprentices told the story.

Harry grinned and gave a booming laugh, raising his huge, calloused fist. "Well done, Shin! Those brats needed to be taught a lesson. Give 'em an inch, and they'll take your whole damn leg. Hit hard—that's how you stop a bully."

It wasn't just praise—it was a message to everyone present. A clear warning.

Around the workshop, the other blacksmiths glanced at their own apprentices and began muttering among themselves. They didn't bother scolding the fighters. Everyone here had brawled in their youth—it was almost a rite of passage. What did bother them, though, was that five had ganged up on one—and still lost.

That wasn't just embarrassing. It was humiliating.

And worse... it was impressive.

"You hear about that kid?"

"Yeah. Took all five of 'em out by himself."

"Thirteen years old, they say."

"No way I was that strong at thirteen..."

The senior smiths tried to hide their astonishment under gruff tones and grumbling, but it didn't fool anyone. Their eyes followed Shin as he worked—measuring, reassessing.

"That boy's something else."

"Figures Harry's got his eye on him. Kid's a natural."

"Pity he's not officially an apprentice yet. Could still poach him..."

"Ha! Go ahead and try. You want Harry to knock your teeth out?"

Laughter rippled through the group.

Just like that, the tension faded. The blacksmiths returned to their stations, the apprentices to their tools. The air lightened. Focus returned to the day's labor.

Shin was glad.

He had no interest in wasting energy on power plays or grudges. There were more important things to prepare for.

The day after tomorrow, the year would turn: Year 845.

He knew what that meant.

The Fall of Wall Maria is near.

Every breath he took carried a growing weight in his chest. Time was running out. His priority now was passing the conscription evaluation, getting into the cadet corps, and mastering the skills necessary to kill Titans.

With his system-enhanced physique, he was already ahead of the curve. But it wouldn't be enough. Not yet.

Levi. Mikasa. The so-called "strongest soldiers of humanity." One day, Shin intended to stand beside them—not behind them.

He would surpass them.

He had to. Because behind him were people who had become precious—Uncle Harry, Aunt Martha, even Hannes and the other blacksmiths. They had become his new family. And he had no intention of watching them die.

As if responding to that determination, a chime echoed in his ears.

Ding!

Congratulations, host. You have successfully polished and repaired 100 tools. Achievement [Test Your Skills] complete.

Strength +3

Coordination +3

Weapon Mastery +3

A wave of heat surged through his limbs—warm, powerful, almost cleansing. It poured into every muscle, soaked into every tendon. For a brief, blissful moment, it felt like his body was blooming with new energy. Stronger. Faster. Sharper.

It was like stepping out of a fog and into clarity.

The sensation faded after a few seconds, but its effects lingered. He gripped a black gold bamboo blade in his hand. It felt different—lighter, more responsive. It moved with him, not against him.

He gave it a few test swings.

Each motion was fluid, precise. He could almost feel the blade slicing the air.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

And in a low voice that only he could hear, Shin whispered to himself:

"I'm ready."