Chapter 19
Amid the rows of cadets silently watching the unfolding events, stood a girl with golden-blonde hair and sky-blue eyes.
Historia, the quiet recruit with a gentle presence, was staring intently at Rio Ackerman.
Her expression wasn't tense like the others—but it wasn't calm either.
Her gaze held questions, wonder… and perhaps something deeper than either.
She gently placed a hand on her chest and felt a strange, powerful thumping.
"Why is he doing this? Why is he confronting Commander Shadis with such courage?" she whispered faintly, barely loud enough for herself—but she wasn't the only one who heard.
Standing beside her was another girl, with half-lidded eyes and a sly, amused look—Ymir.
Ymir replied quietly, eyes fixed ahead:
"No idea... Maybe he's just stupid. Standing up to Shadis in front of everyone? That'll get you punished—or worse."
But Historia wasn't convinced. She shook her head gently, eyes still on Rio as he explained the faulty harness to Shadis.
"No… that's not it. No one does that just out of recklessness. He stood up for his friend," she said with sincerity—as though she were speaking of something far more personal than just an observation.
To her, Rio wasn't just another recruit.
He was something different… a symbol of something she hadn't yet understood—but could feel clearly in her heart every time she saw him.
---
Moments later, the tension faded as Shadis ordered Eren to try again.
Eren walked cautiously toward the second rig, dozens of eyes following his every step.
A heavy silence settled over the field.
Eren grabbed the straps, breathing slowly, fastening them around his waist with careful hands. He remembered Rio's words—and felt a surge of gratitude.
He couldn't bear the thought of failing again—not in front of his friends… not in front of himself.
Elsewhere, Mikasa watched closely.
Her face hadn't changed much, but her tension was palpable. She clutched the edge of her shirt tightly, almost holding her breath. She desperately wanted him to succeed. His success meant everything to her.
Eren paused for a moment. Everything around him seemed to slow down.
Then—
One of the instructors raised the metal lever connected to his harness.
And Eren rose into the air.
He hovered—just for a few seconds—but he did not fall.
His body began to balance steadily. He extended his arms forward, straightened himself in place.
He wasn't perfect like Rio, but it was more than enough to show everyone the truth.
With a trembling voice, he shouted:
"I… I did it!!"
He raised his hands in triumph, his expression bursting with victory.
Below, Armin's face lit up as he raised his hands and yelled:
"Nice job, Eren!!"
Meanwhile, Mikasa, still silent, lowered her head slightly and smiled gently. It was a small smile—but a sincere one. She whispered:
"Yes…"
---
Days passed within the training walls, and the harsh atmosphere gradually began to soften.
The cadets started forming bonds. Quiet laughter echoed in the halls. Grim faces became less stern.
Some began sharing bread. Others spoke of their hometowns, their hopes, their fears.
And amid this growing sense of camaraderie, the day arrived that some awaited—and others dreaded:
Hand-to-hand combat training.
True, hand-to-hand wasn't ideal against Titans—but the commanders knew not all cadets would join the Survey Corps. Some would go into the Military Police… and there, among humans, the ability to fight back could save a life.
In the wide, dusty training ground, cadets lined up in pairs. Over thirty duos faced each other in direct combat, while the instructors moved between them, monitoring and taking notes.
The number of recruits had already shrunk—some had failed the balance test, others the running or climbing evaluations. Only about sixty remained, ready to face their opponents—not with malice, but with strategy.
In each pair, one cadet held a rubber training knife, while the other prepared to defend.
The test looked simple…
But in truth? Only those who understood their opponents survived.
Among the dozens of pairs in the field, there was one that stood out—not in form, but in presence.
Rio Ackerman, the recruit whose reputation now preceded him, stood calmly at the center of the yard, facing his opponent: Mark Proud.
Mark was relatively tall, with dull brown hair and a face full of anxiety. He wasn't weak—but he knew exactly who stood before him.
Rio… the cadet who climbed the booby-trapped cliff wall in just five minutes.
Rio… whose daily workouts were tougher than Shadis's drills.
Rio… who had never lost a single match.
Still, Mark stepped forward, clutching the rubber knife in his right hand, and shouted with a nervous voice, trying to mask his fear:
"Go easy on me, will you?!"
But Rio… didn't answer.
He stood firm, arms loose, eyes locked on Mark's center of gravity.
He didn't look at the knife—but at the feet.
That's where mistakes began… and ended.
Then suddenly, Mark lunged, light on his feet, aiming a swift attack.
But Rio saw a fatal flaw.
Mark's right foot was leading over the left—an obvious imbalance.
A fatal weakness, easy to exploit—especially for someone trained in real combat.
One second…
Rio raised his right hand and struck Mark's elbow, the one holding the knife.
Two seconds…
The blade slipped from Mark's grip, dropping lightly to the ground.
Third… fourth seconds…
Rio turned his body in a smooth half-spin, moving as if choreographing the battle—then delivered a sharp side kick with his left leg to Mark's right foot.
Fifth…
Mark's feet left the ground.
He crashed into the dirt.
The match was over.
Rio had finished it… in just five seconds.
He didn't shout. He didn't even breathe loudly.
He just stood still, calmly gazing at the instructor who was writing notes.
As for Mark, he lay stunned on the ground. He hadn't even realized when the fight began—or ended.
Whispers began to ripple through the field:
"He's not normal…"
"Is this what they call an Ackerman?"
"No wonder he's above the rest like that…"
But Rio didn't care what they said.
He didn't care how many eyes watched him.
He stood in silence… expressionless.
---
Most of the instructors retreated to the rest cabin, leaving the cadets to train on their own.
After his fall, Mark Proud lay on the ground for a few moments, catching his breath through the pain.
He hadn't expected to be thrown down that easily—let alone by only two movements that ended the match in mere seconds.
Rio extended a hand toward Mark, offering to help him up.
Mark looked up at him, his eyes half-closed from the impact, then grabbed the hand and stood, groaning:
"Ugh… my back… I told you to go easy on me, Rio!"
But Rio didn't respond—and didn't seem to care.
His eyes had shifted, slowly turning to the right.
Something had caught his attention.
A faint noise—but clear enough to disturb him.
Roughly thirty meters away, he noticed a group of cadets forming a half-circle, shoulder to shoulder.
Some were jumping to get a better view, others shouting eagerly:
"It's a fight!"
"Are they really going to go at it?!"
"Who's going to win?!"
Rio's eyes narrowed on the source of the commotion…
And through the gaps between heads, he saw clearly—
Mikasa Ackerman—standing firm, her usual calm radiating off her body, in a combat stance.
In front of her, cold-eyed and with short blonde hair falling over one cheek—
Annie Leonhart.
The two girls were seconds from clashing.
Rio's face didn't change. He wasn't angry—but he was deeply annoyed.
Not at the fight itself… but at the unnecessary circumstances that led to it.
Just a few days earlier, after much observation, Commander Shadis had made an important decision.
The cadets were constantly fighting. There was no cooperation. Chaos ruled every drill.
Everyone wanted to lead. Everyone thought they were the best.
So Shadis decided to appoint a General Leader among the cadets.
It wasn't a role just for the strongest—it demanded discipline, observation, and control.
And so, the obvious choice was made: Rio Ackerman.
Rio didn't comment. He showed neither pride nor resistance.
He simply accepted the decision… in his usual silence.
But now, watching Mikasa and Annie, he could no longer hide his irritation.
"This fight… serves no purpose."
"This isn't the time to flaunt strength."
He began moving, step by step—steady, neither fast nor slow—cutting his way through the crowd
.
His eyes were fixed on the two girls.
And among the cadets, whispers rose again:
"Rio's coming…"
"I think he's going to stop them."
"Damn… this was just getting good. Why does he have to step in?!"
To be continued…