NOVEL NEXT Chapter 43
On the wide stone road leading through Wall Rose, a column of soldiers slowly advanced. Hundreds strong, they marched in disciplined rows, each clad in the same uniform and the green hooded cloaks of the Survey Corps. The wind tugged at the fabric, revealing the Wings of Freedom emblazoned on their backs.
Passersby stopped to watch. Their eyes followed the soldiers—some filled with awe, most with suspicion.
"Is the Survey Corps heading out again?"
"The formation's massive this time… I wonder how many will make it back alive."
"Idiots. Why risk their lives outside? The walls keep us safe. We have food, shelter—why throw it away?"
"Tch. The Corps is nothing but a drain on our resources. Titans are only fifteen meters at most, and our walls are fifty. There's no real danger. They're just asking for death."
"Be quiet, unless you want the MPs on your back."
The grumbling faded as the soldiers continued. It wasn't new to them—disdain and dismissal from the very people they swore to protect. Petra, riding near the front, glanced at Lock with concern. The boy had been silent for most of the march.
"Lock," she said softly, "don't let their words bother you. One day they'll understand why we fight."
"Petra's right," Elder added. "We can't control what they think. All we can do is our duty. History will prove us right."
"Honestly, rookie," Olo said gruffly, "I never pegged you as the type to sulk over gossip."
Even Gunther, ever serious, chimed in: "Keep your head up. We can't afford hesitation."
Lock blinked, confused at their worried faces. "Wait. You all think I'm upset? I was just spacing out."
"Really? That's it?" Petra tilted her head, unconvinced.
They remembered their own first marches, weighed down by nerves, shame, and the jeers of the crowd. Levi had beaten sense into them then—but Lock? Fourteen years old and already steady as stone.
Lock sighed. "You're overthinking it. I wasn't moping… though it's still better than when Olo and Petra pissed themselves on their first expedition."
"WHAT?!" Olo nearly launched himself off his horse, fists shaking. Petra's face went crimson, and she yanked her hood down over her burning cheeks.
"Hah!" Elder burst into laughter. "Seems like he's fine after all. Geniuses really are built differently."
Gunther shook his head, though a smile tugged at his mouth. The tension lifted, fading into the rhythm of hooves against the road.
The column pressed onward. The sun dipped lower as the day wore on, boredom settling in over the long march. Lock let his eyes wander over the crowd lining the streets. Scorn, curiosity, even fear—it was all there, painted across countless faces.
He understood why. For decades, the Corps had bled men and women on expeditions beyond the walls, often with little to show for it. Casualties outnumbered successes. For the common folk, the cost was easy to see; the gains were not.
It didn't anger him. It only steeled him.
Lock tightened his grip on the reins. Then I'll just have to prove them wrong. Not with words—but with results. Strength, skill, and victories that no one can deny.
As the afternoon sun gilded the rooftops, the formation reached its final stop before the edge of Wall Maria. The air carried the scent of dust, sweat, and faint anticipation.
At last, the gates of Shiganshina loomed ahead.
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