Chapter 18
The next morning, the mountain air was cold, carrying sharp gusts that whipped between the recruits standing in a straight line beneath the stone cliff, just dozens of meters from their training headquarters.
The ground beneath their boots was dry and dusty, covered in scattered pebbles. A heavy silence hung between them, as though everyone was waiting for something dreadful to begin.
Commander Keith Shadis stood at the front of the raised platform, his eyes scanning the lined-up faces with intense scrutiny. Faces etched with a mixture of tension and dread… wide eyes, tight lips, hands rigidly pressed to their sides.
Then Shadis shouted, his booming voice echoing off the stone walls of the mountain behind them:
"Let's see if any of you are actually worth something!! Strap the belts on your waists and hang!!"
His voice struck like a slap. The recruits moved hurriedly, nervously, toward the long apparatus stretched in front of them—a vertical maneuvering device connected by balance harnesses strapped at the waist, meant to test a recruit's ability to maintain balance in the air before learning to handle full combat gear.
Shadis stepped closer to the device and stood beside it, glaring at the cadets as if searching for the weak among them.
"Use your core to maintain balance!!" he barked again.
Then added with a colder tone, his steps slow and deliberate:
"Those who can't do it… will become bait!! We'll send you to the slaughter!! Do you understand?!!"
Some of the recruits trembled with fear, especially those who had never touched maneuvering equipment before or lacked any trained muscles. Everyone knew that Shadis's words were not exaggerations—but real, brutal threats.
Standing nearby was Shadis's deputy, watching the trial closely alongside one of the assistants.
He nodded toward one of the recruits hanging in the air and said in a low but clear voice:
"This is the basic step… but from here, we'll start to truly evaluate their skills."
Then his eyes landed on one cadet suspended steadily in the air between the straps, and a smile of satisfaction slowly curled on his lips.
"Hmm… that boy… look at him. Flawless. He knows exactly what to do and when to do it… This is what I call skill."
He was talking about Rio.
There, suspended mid-air, Rio Ackerman hung with unwavering confidence between the ropes—his arms crossed over his chest, back straight, balance perfect to a startling degree. He wasn't swaying like the others, not scanning for stability points, not even slightly anxious… like a piece of steel hanging with immovable steadiness.
It was clear this boy had done this before—many, many times.
In truth, he had spent three full years secretly training on his late father's 3D maneuvering gear—he had even modified it himself, to the point where he knew its intricacies better than any other cadet.
Shadis noticed… watched him silently for a moment without comment—but something changed in his gaze.
There was something in Rio's sharp, calm, and silent features that reminded Shadis of someone else…
Someone from long ago.
Someone no longer in this world.
He whispered to himself under his breath, barely audible, his face rigid yet tinged with sorrow:
"My God… even though you're dead, old friend… you left your living copy behind… here."
The deputy commander continued in a tone of quiet admiration as he watched the three cadets suspended midair by balance harnesses about a meter and a half off the ground.
Eyes followed them cautiously, and the rope stretched between two wooden poles swayed slightly with each exhale.
He looked closely at Connie, who appeared tense but stable, his usually playful expression replaced with rare seriousness, trying to maintain balance with his arms folded in front of his chest.
Then at Sasha, who swayed slightly but held on, as if she were trying harder to remember how to hang smoked meats than to follow actual instructions.
Then Jean, trying as always to appear superior, showing off with moderate stability though some discomfort was visible.
The deputy commander said with light admiration:
"Hmm… I'd say we've got quite a few talented recruits this year!"
But before the sentence left his lips, his assistant cut in with a tense tone, eyes focused on one spot:
"Uh… sir…"
The deputy quickly turned to follow his gaze—and what he saw stunned him.
Eren Yeager, the boy who had shown so much ambition and fiery determination since day one—was falling headfirst from the rope. His body flipped completely, failing so terribly at balance that the entire area seemed to freeze in shock.
The deputy commander stared at him coldly, then said sharply:
"When we talk about talent… if some are more fortunate than others, the opposite is also true."
All eyes turned to Eren.
Among those watching silently was Rio Ackerman. He raised his hand to his chin, thoughtful, quietly stunned.
"There's no way Eren is that clumsy…" he murmured to himself.
He had trained with Eren for a full year. Though Eren wasn't physically on Rio's level, his body was strong enough to pass a basic balance test like this.
So it couldn't be a matter of physical weakness.
That left only one possible explanation: the harnesses themselves. They must've been worn out, poorly secured, or damaged—perhaps even intentionally switched.
This was the only conclusion that made sense to Rio.
Meanwhile, Commander Shadis had descended from the platform and now stood over Eren's upside-down body, yelling in fury, his eyes blazing:
"What is this, Eren Yeager?! Head up, body upright!!"
Eren lifted his head slightly, trying to ignore the pain in his neck. Slowly, he turned to look around.
Jean was snickering behind a hand to muffle his laugh. Connie looked stunned, unsure whether to laugh or panic. Mikasa stood tense, gripping her arm, lips pressed tight. Armin's face showed shock and worry.
As for Rio… he remained motionless, hand on his chin, eyes fixed on the ropes Eren had fallen from, analyzing the scene with unnerving precision.
Eren lay on the ground in turmoil, muttering to himself:
"What's going on?! How did this happen?! This must be a joke! It wasn't supposed to go like this!"
Then came Shadis's voice again, rumbling like thunder beneath their feet:
"HEY!! EREN!! You wanna be Titan food?! What is this garbage I'm seeing?! What are you doing?!"
His voice struck like a blast, directed squarely at a shaken, embarrassed Eren who couldn't explain himself.
Shadis stormed toward him, bent down, and with an angry motion, tore one of the belts from Eren's waist. It was neither gentle nor merciful.
Eren collapsed fully onto the ground.
Dust clouded his uniform as he stood again, brushing himself off nervously.
He tried to look strong, but the red creeping over his face and the shame in his eyes revealed the truth: a deep, unfamiliar sense of defeat—not just in front of the commander, but his peers.
Amidst this heavy air, Shadis pulled a paper and pen from his coat. He scribbled quickly, then looked up and said sternly:
"Eren Yeager—you'll be sent to the front lines!!"
The words hit like a hammer. Everyone heard it. Everyone saw it.
Mikasa was about to step forward and protest—but Armin held her back.
But the real surprise… came next.
A few steps away, Rio Ackerman stood quietly. His left hand rested on his chin, his expression unreadable, eyes scanning the scene like a scholar—not a cadet.
He exhaled softly, then muttered under his breath:
"So that's how it is..."
Then suddenly, Rio raised his head, stepped forward, and raised his right hand. His voice rang clear, steady, and confident:
"Commander, may I speak my mind?"
Shadis paused, his eyes narrowing—stern but faintly uneasy. He didn't know what Rio intended to say, but something deep inside warned him that the boy had figured everything out.
Shadis said, trying to mask his discomfort:
"Speak then… but if you waste my time, I'll have you join him on the front lines!"
It was a bluff—intended to scare Rio off. After all, it was Shadis himself who had rigged the faulty gear to make Eren fail… to keep him from graduating.
Why?
Because years ago, Shadis had believed that Grisha Yeager, Eren's father, had stolen the woman he loved.
In truth, it wasn't betrayal—Grisha and that woman had loved each other genuinely.
But Shadis couldn't accept it. Ever since, he had nurtured a silent grudge. And now, upon learning that Grisha's son wanted to join the Scouts… Shadis planned to crush him.
But Rio did not retreat. He did not falter. He stepped closer to the metal rig where Eren had fallen.
He grabbed one of the worn straps and raised it firmly for all to see.
Then he spoke—his voice calm, yet slicing through the silence like blades:
"Commander… Eren didn't fall because of incompetence. He fell because of this—
a worn-out, defective harness… unfit for use."
Shadis's expression shifted instantly—from anger to stiffness, then to barely contained panic.
"What?! Are you suggesting we made a critical error like that?!"
Rio replied with unsettling composure:
"Yes, sir."
And then, with practiced ease, he stretched the harness before the gathered recruits.
Within seconds, the strap began to stretch more… and more… until—SNAP.
It tore apart.
A few cadets gasped quietly. Some glanced at each other in disbelief. Others stood frozen.
Rio added, without any triumph in his voice:
"As you see, Commander… when I examined the gear, I found it severely worn. Had anyone used it after Eren, they would've fallen too."
A heavy silence settled. Even Jean, usually smug, couldn't find words.
Shadis looked at the strap… then at Eren… then at Rio.
He knew, deep down, he was the one who placed that gear there. A harsh test, yes—but now, exposed.
Finally, he spoke, heavy with restrained emotion, turning his gaze away:
"Take another rig, Eren."
Eren's eyes shot open. He couldn't believe what he heard. Relief
flooded his chest.
He shot a glance at Rio, smiling shyly—as if to say:
"Thank you."
But Rio didn't return the smile.
He didn't move at all.
He remained still.
As always.
To be continued…