Reincarnated In Attack On Titan World As Nobody

Night fell over the training camp, and the cafeteria buzzed with noise. After a full day of grueling drills, the recruits were starving. They had only been given bread at noon, and now bowls of hot soup and plates of coarse rations vanished quickly.

No one cared about manners. Even the girls, normally conscious of appearances, ate ravenously, their cheeks stuffed as they gulped water between bites.

"Finally… food. This is heaven after a whole day of training."

"I swear, if I could live in this cafeteria forever, I'd die happy."

"Hah, small dream. But I get it."

They laughed between mouthfuls, though one voice broke the mood.

"I don't see what's so special. I live like this every day at home. Plenty of money, never ran out of food."

Forks paused midair. Heads turned. The speaker was a plain-looking girl, neither striking nor ugly, but her tone carried the weight of privilege. Her eyes, however, were not on the food—she was staring at Lock, admiration plain in her expression.

He was younger than many here, but already acknowledged as the most gifted of the recruits. Watching him train had left no doubts.

Men admired strength. Women, too, were drawn to it.

Lock, oblivious to her gaze, was busy devouring his own share. His appetite matched his intensity in training. Plate after plate disappeared before him, his movements quick but never crude.

Some recruits exchanged looks of disbelief.

This guy's talent is already inhuman. But even his stomach…?

Only Jonah, the broad-shouldered recruit who looked far older than his actual eighteen years, could keep pace with Lock. For a while, the two ate side by side like bottomless pits. But soon Jonah leaned back, clutching his stomach with a groan.

"…I'm done. Can't eat another bite."

Lock calmly chewed through the last crust of bread and exhaled, a hand resting against his full stomach.

Ding.

The familiar system prompt echoed in his mind:

"Host has overeaten. Digestion ability +1. Food intake capacity +1."

Lock's lips twitched. Increased digestion, fine. But more food capacity?

"…You're trying to turn me into a monster eater," he muttered under his breath.

A fleeting image came unbidden: himself being expelled from the regiment, not for weakness, but because no division could afford his meals. He shook it off quickly, though the thought left him grimacing.

Nearby, Ellis hesitated before offering, "Lock, want me to grab you some more?"

He waved the suggestion away. "No. I'm full."

Several nearby recruits—and even a few kitchen staff by the doorway—exhaled in relief.

Thank god, he does stop eating…

The staff exchanged nervous glances, silently consoling themselves. It's just a growth phase. He won't eat like this forever… right?

Lock had no idea he'd frightened half the room. Pushing back his chair, he rose. There were still three hours until lights-out, and his body itched for more training. Klaus had already approved his extra drills, and the equipment officers had been told to cooperate. Every moment counted—especially with the fall of the Wall, Maria looming in the uncertain future.

"Going out again?" Ellis asked as he noticed Lock fastening his jacket.

"Yeah," Lock replied simply.

Livington and Jonah both got up as well, eager to follow.

"You want in?" Lock asked with a small smile.

The three exchanged glances. "If it's alright."

Ellis and Livington had been painfully average in their coordination tests, barely scraping by. Any chance to learn from Lock was a lifeline. Jonah, on the other hand, had been impressed into loyalty—his instincts told him to stick close to the strongest.

"Of course." Lock nodded. "Let's go."

He cast a last glance over the cafeteria. A few recruits looked tempted to join, but most turned away quickly, whispering to themselves.

Eyes don't lie. Lock could tell who had the will to push forward—and who would be left behind.

As the four of them left, the hall filled again with chatter.

"Training again? In this cold?"

"He's insane… but no wonder he's top of the class."

"I bet he wants to graduate first, then head straight into the Military Police. Easiest life, best treatment."

"No way. Didn't he say before? Lock's aiming for the Survey Corps."

The words hit like a thunderclap.

"The Survey Corps?! That's suicide! Their death rate is—"

"—unbelievable."

All eyes shifted toward two recruits from Jonah's hometown. They nodded seriously. "He said it himself. He's going to the Survey Corps."

A wave of mixed relief washed over the room. Only the top ten could choose their corps freely. With Lock securing first place, his decision meant one more coveted slot in the Military Police would open up for the others.

For many, it was like being handed a gift.

Yet for the few with the same dream—to step beyond the walls and fight the Titans—the knowledge stung.

Outside, Lock and his three companions were already strapping on their gear, the cold night air biting at their faces. He had no time to care about the petty ambitions left behind in the cafeteria.

The future was rushing toward them.

And Lock had no intention of being unprepared.

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