Reincarnated In Attack On Titan World As Nobody

The entire Shiganshina District had barely a thousand stationed Garrison soldiers. After three years without a proper equipment overhaul, a mountain of worn-down gear had piled up. Yet, the district had only eight officially registered blacksmiths.

Including their apprentices, they were fewer than twenty in total. For them to be responsible for maintaining and restoring hundreds of pieces of equipment—it was a colossal task.

At the moment, all blacksmiths and apprentices had gathered in the vast but dust-laden hall of the district's equipment depot.

Shiganshina was small. Everyone here was registered, and most had known each other for years. The atmosphere was rowdy and familiar.

"Harry, I heard you've been living the good life lately. I'm really starting to envy you!"

"Oh, don't even bring it up," another blacksmith chimed in with a grin. "Who wouldn't be comfortable with an apprentice like his? Two months in and the kid's already working like he's got three years of experience! And still so damned hardworking. Honestly, it's enough to make a fool like me feel ashamed."

"Who are you calling a fool, huh?!"

"Hahaha!"

Shin stood quietly at Harry's side, tuning out the banter around him. His eyes swept the room with quiet curiosity.

The depot had clearly seen better days. The walls were stained with time, the rafters hung heavy with dust, and the air smelled of rust and damp wood. Judging from the neglected state of the building, the equipment probably wasn't faring much better.

He shifted his gaze toward the Garrison personnel present—dozens of them scattered around the hall, slouched against walls, half-asleep on benches, or chatting lazily in corners. Their uniforms were wrinkled, some stained with alcohol or old grease. Bloated bellies, dull eyes, slurred voices.

More than a hundred years of peace had dulled them. Stripped them of edge and purpose.

"To expect this lot to face Titans…" Shin thought to himself, suppressing a sigh.

At present, the only unit with real combat capability was the Survey Corps. Everyone else—the Garrison, the Military Police—they were just Titan fodder waiting for the inevitable. Especially the Military Police, who spent more time squabbling over politics than preparing for battle.

This nation had been resting on its laurels far too long. A rude awakening was long overdue.

But Shin didn't voice these thoughts. There was no point. Not yet.

He drew in a slow breath, calming his rising frustration, and refocused. No one was paying attention to him anyway.

A few apprentices shot him side-glances—some disdainful, others tinged with challenge.

He was used to it.

In their eyes, Shin was the perfect "model apprentice." The one their masters used as the gold standard to berate them. Naturally, that earned him more than a few sour looks.

Before the tension could rise, however, the Garrison liaison finally arrived.

It was none other than Hannes—the man who, in the canon timeline, saved young Eren and Mikasa from a Titan attack.

"Alright, looks like everyone's here." Hannes yawned and stretched, scratching his scruffy chin as his lazy gaze passed over the gathered group. His eyes lingered on Shin for a second, but he said nothing and continued.

"Appreciate you all coming out. I won't lie—this is a big job. There's a lot of equipment that needs attention, but don't worry, you won't be working for free. Standard arrangement. You all know the drill."

He smiled slyly, and a ripple of laughter spread through the crowd.

Shin blinked. So there's a little something under the table involved, huh?

Whatever the case, he didn't ask. He simply followed Harry toward the depot's inner doors, where several sleepy Garrison soldiers stood guard. They barely glanced at their tools before waving them through.

The moment Shin stepped into the equipment vault, he was hit with the musty scent of aged metal and forgotten oil.

Weapons, gear, and blades were piled high, some still sheathed in dust-covered boxes. This stuff hadn't been touched in years.

"Looks like nothing's been used in a while," Shin muttered under his breath.

Harry chuckled. "That's a good thing. If this stuff ever did get used, it'd mean we're in serious trouble. And trust me, nobody wants to see that happen."

It's going to happen next year, Shin thought grimly. But he kept that to himself. Without hard proof, saying such a thing would just earn him strange looks—or worse.

"Over there," Harry pointed. "That section on the right's ours. Let's get started."

"Got it."

Shin moved quickly to the equipment area. He knelt beside a dusty crate, popped the lid open, and was met with rows of standard-issue gear. Blades, belts, sheaths, harness parts. All in various states of decay.

He reached for one of the thinner blades, drawn by instinct more than thought.

The moment he held it, something clicked.

It fits… perfectly.

It was like the blade was an extension of his body. He gave it a slow swing, and it moved through the air with an elegance and precision that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Blades designed for Titan combat…"

A strange hunger stirred in him. A craving for strength, control, mastery. Just holding the blade made him feel safer. Empowered. As if he could carve a path through fate itself.

His fingers tightened on the hilt.

One day… I'll wield these for real.

A sudden chuckle broke through his thoughts.

"Well, well. Little Shin, you want one of those, huh?"

He turned and saw Hannes leaning casually against a stack of crates, grinning.

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A/N: Please Leave A Comment Or Drop A Powerstone It'll mean alot to me...