Ok, this is Late. I tried to make it so I could just fit The Mc's appearance into it, but ... Too long. So I'll just stop here for this Chapter.
....
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Garrison Branch HQ, Trost.
Three soldiers walked briskly through the hallways of The Garrison Headquarters, their boots striking against the stone floor. They were all Unit Captains, and they were all late.
Not from laziness. Not from drinking. But because of a damn mix-up in orders.
In past days, a phenomenon had occurred recently in the city.
People were disappearing. At first, it could be ignored, but the constant accumulation turned it from a few spares cases to a String Of Missing Persons cases.
Once it became public, the impact was obvious. Rumors began to spread in Trost that a Silent Titan had infiltrated the City and was gobbling up people at night.
It was followed by a more logical conclusion. Traffickers had arrived.
The sudden spike in disappearances had thrown Trost into chaos. Thirty-eight missing people. Women and children, vanishing without a trace. Panic spread, curfews were enforced, and every available high-ranking officer was pulled in for an emergency meeting to analyze the case.
Including them.
Unfortunately, thanks to a clerical error, they'd spent the last hour circling the city on a wild goose chase.
"Ridiculous," Klaus muttered, boots crunching against the stone path. "Two different reports for the same damn deployment. I told them to sort it out earlier, but nooo—'just follow orders,' they said."
"At least we got it fixed before the Squad Captain found out," another officer added. "If she knew we wasted an hour circling Trost for nothing—"
"We'd be on desk duty all month," Dieter groaned, not wanting to think more on this topic.
Making a turn, — they soon spotted a lone figure approaching from the direction of The Archive Room.
A fellow Garrison officer, judging by the uniform at least. But from the facial features, not anyone he knew of either.
But something was off.
The moment he got close, he waved casually like an old friend.
"Dieter, huh? You're out late. Your wife's gonna have your head if she finds out you've been running around instead of staying home. She's due soon, isn't she?"
"Huh?…" Dieter's steps slowed. "Um … Yeah …" It was true. His wife really was due for a new baby. However … Only a few people knew that.
'… Do I know him?' Under his gaze, the stranger turned to Klaus.
"Long-time man. How's your kid? What was it again? Phillip … That's right. I saw Annie some time ago. Says the little ball of energy keeps giving his teacher a headache …"
"Oh … Hi …" Klaus felt similar to Dieter. 'Do I know him?'
The Third officer glanced between them and kept silent. This should be a meeting between old friends.
He had been to Klaus's house Two days ago and heard the same thing. A kid who could make a grown man cry. Pfft! He almost laughed his pants off. That was Talent in his honest opinion.
Just as he waited for his two friends to introduce him, what followed was an awkward silence.
No one uttered a word. Which in itself was odd.
Dieter and Klaus looked at each other, seeing the same confusion in their eyes. Their facial expressions seemingly sending Text Messages.
"Dude, You Know This Guy?"
"I Don't Know. I Thought You Did."
"What Does That Mean?"
"You Asking Me? How Should I Know?"
"He Knows Your Wife …"
"He Knows Yours, How Is That Any Different?"
Both men looked clueless while combing their memories for where they knew this acquaintance from.
Time elapsed. Seeing the embarrassing atmosphere, Dieter decided to speak up and ask clearly.
"…Um … You …" He paused when he saw the latter's expression change. The stranger blinked, seemingly confused at first before an expression of realization clouded his features.
"I see. You forgot me again."
He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before chuckling softly—though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"You did, didn't you?"
"…" silence. Neither men knew what to say. Whatever Dieter wanted to initially was swallowed back into his throat.
The stranger looked at them blandly. His voice held no accusation. Just a quiet disappointment.
Then, almost like he was talking to himself—
"100th Cadet Corps. Graduating class. The guy with the low sense of presence?"
Nothing.
No spark of realization.
No sudden recognition.
Nothing.
Seeing their expressions, The stranger shook his head.
"You know what? Nevermind."
He started walking again, expression turning sullen.
"Hey, you …"
"Don't worry about it. Everyone's already waiting inside. Don't waste any more time. Meeting's been going for a while."
"…"
The three officers watched as The Stranger disappeared down the hall and around the corridor. Leaving behind an awkward silence and Dieter and Klaus doubting their own memory.
"Is he really …"
"… Don't you have any recollection?"
With him gone, both men conversed openly without the embarrassment that would ensue of openly admitting to the possibility that they had forgotten an acquaintance during their training regiment days.
At that moment, the third spoke up. "Do you really not know who he is? …"
"… Well . Nah. I can't remember."
Klaus muttered, scratching his head in puzzlement.
"Me neither. Perhaps he's a loner? Our group hasn't really had a lot of get-togethers …"
"Yeah, most of us were transferred to other Districts. I heard a few died in Wall Maria that year."
The 100th cadet corps regiment graduation was in the year 838.
It had been eleven years since then. Many friends had lost contact long before The Breach Of Shiganshina. It was even more impossible for familiar reconnections after that.
Time changed everything. After Ten years, it was normal for people who hadn't seen each other for so long to not recognize each other.
"Maybe we should find him later." Klaus said as they resumed their walk.
"Perhaps, he was reassigned here recently or something …"
"I guess so." Dieter uttered, feeling something was wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Nevertheless, they couldn't pay much attention to that now. They were already late.
Two minutes later, they came to The Archive Room and knocked.
"Hey everyone. Sorry, we're late. Our deployment had a …" his voice came to a halt. The three men having their expressions change drastically.
"Captain! Bradley, Keane!…"
Hurriedly, they moved towards the bodies and examined them.
Klaus crouched beside Jean, a former teammate during their cadet corps period, pressing two fingers to his neck. A steady pulse.
"They're just unconscious," he muttered, relief washing over him.
Dieter exhaled, running a hand through his hair.
"What the hell happened here?"
The Archive Room was a mess. Stacks of documents lay scattered across the tables. But aside from that, there were no signs of struggle.
The only sound in the dimly lit room was the faint breathing of the unconscious soldiers.
The third officer hurried over to Captain Rico, shaking her shoulders.
"Captain! Can you hear me?" No response at first.
Then
Rico groaned softly, her eyelids flickering.
"Ugh… what…"
Slowly, her eyes cracked open.
"…Goddammit."
The Captain pressed a hand to her forehead, grimacing. His fingers trembled slightly—a clear sign of lingering disorientation.
"Ugh … I feel like I just felt my life flash before my eyes."
"Captain, what happened?" Klaus asked, eyes sharp.
The blurry vision slowly faded. Naturally, Rico began to recall what had happened.
"Where … Where is he?"
"Who?".
"There was an intruder."
Silence.
The three officers froze.
Dieter was the first to react.
"Intruder? You mean someone got into The Garrison—inside this room?!"
Rico gave a weak nod.
For as long as they could remember, this was the first time that they heard of an Intruder sneaking into The Garrison.
Klaus exchanged a glance with Dieter, realization dawning between them.
That soldier.
The one who had greeted them so casually in the hall. The one who knew their families. The one neither of them could remember.
He just said he was coming from the Meeting.
No way…. Now it was obvious why they couldn't remember him. Because he never existed to them to begin with.
Now, he escaped under their noses— Like nothing happened.
"Klaus. Sound the alarm. Now…"
----
Just outside the Trost Garrison Branch, Seiji in disguise kept walking.
The first warning bell rang. Then the second.
"Took them long enough."
He hadn't spent much energy on the Genjutsu that bound the Garrison soldiers. The problem of the Natives having no Chakra Pathways here served as a reason.
Unlike Ilse, who wouldn't wake up in advance unless her body was subjected to physical pain strong enough to force her out, The Garrison soldiers could be awakened as long as they had a strong enough shake or a slap to the face. Without Chakra Pathways, it was enough to disturb the limited Chakra he had infused into them.
Seiji didn't care, though. Walking far away without breaking stride, he turned into a dark alley. His chakra pulsed, and the Transformation Jutsu faded.
Gone was the Garrison officer disguise. In his place stood a young man with dark hair, red eyes glowing in the dim light.
Looking at the rapidly dimming daylight, He vanished into the city, headed for The Warehouse on the outskirts. Where his real target still awaited.
The chaos that would ensue in The Garrison after no longer concerned him. In an hour at most, he would depart from Trost To Mitras.
---
Meanwhile …
The Warehouse
----
The sky burned a deep orange, streaked with fading hues of gold and crimson. Long shadows stretched across the quiet streets of the warehouse district, swallowing the alleys and creeping toward the buildings like reaching fingers. The air was still, thick with the lingering warmth of the dying sun.
Outside one of the larger buildings, a handful of soldiers dressed in uniform stood guard, their presence barely acknowledged by the passing Patrols.
An emblem of a Green Unicorn on a silver shield embedded on their standard issued cropped military Jackets.
To those who knew, their identity was obvious.
The Military Police Brigade. Also known as The King's Guards.
Odd, due to the fact that MPs were stationed in the Interior. Why they were In Trost was a wonder on its own. Nevertheless, it wasn't uncommon, plus the common people wouldn't even notice.
They had appeared In Trost Four days ago. The official story, being hired for a Job requiring them to come out this far.
To anyone else, they were merely stationed there to protect a nobleman's goods. Nothing more, nothing less.
"Ah … The setting sun, nothing quite like it …"
In the group standing guard, a female soldier with long dark hair and blue eyes, and a pretty face exhaled with a fascinated look.
"It's even more beautiful when you're looking at it from the top of The Walls. Too bad. I really wish I could see it."
"Enough Saria." a rough voice cut in at that moment.
Leaning on the warehouse wall, stood another officer. Middle-aged, light skinned, brown hair, and a small beard. Gregor Menis.
Saria smirked at his tone, but there was amusement in her gaze. "Oh? Something wrong, Captain?"
Gregor stared at her sternly.
"Yes. Keep your internal thoughts to yourself and stop distracting the others. We have a job to do."
His voice was steady, but his gaze was sharp—focused.
Saria chuckled, stretching her arms above her head. "Tch. Always so serious."
She let the silence hang for a moment, then glanced toward the youngest in their group.
A rookie.
Ren.
The girl had been standing quietly by the crates near the entrance, arms crossed, gaze distant.
Saria's smirk widened slightly.
"So? What about you, Ren?" she asked, tilting her head. "How are you holding up? I imagine a job like this must be a bit of a shock for a new recruit."
Ren didn't answer immediately. Her expression barely shifted, but Saria caught the way her fingers twitched slightly at her sides.
"… I'm fine."
"Fine?" Saria raised an eyebrow. "That's all?"
Gregor sighed, already sensing where this was going. "Saria—"
"No, no. I'm just curious," she said, waving him off before looking back at Ren. "Come on, Rookie. Don't tell me you didn't know what kind of work the MPs handle?"
Ren exhaled slowly, trying to keep her voice even. "I knew."
"But you're not comfortable with it," Saria pressed, her tone light, almost playful. "Right?"
Ren didn't respond.
Gregor watched them, his gaze unreadable.
Saria leaned back against the crate, her smirk turning lazy. "Well, can't blame you. It's always a bit jarring at first. But you'll get used to it."
Her voice lowered slightly, as if sharing a private joke. "We all do."
Gregor rolled his shoulders. "Enough. This isn't the time for lectures."
Saria sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. I'll behave. But you can't blame me after all. There's hardly anything to do around here but stand around, watching a bunch of …"
Her voice halted as she felt a burning gaze fall on her.
The other soldiers listening in, turned their gazes over.
"Watch which beans you spill lieutenant …" Gregor uttered, glaring at her intensely. Then retreated his gaze with a snort.
"Would it kill you to be quiet? If you must, go inside and find something to entertain yourself with. We only have one more day for this. Until we're finished, be careful what you say."
Gregor's words trailed off, but the warning in his tone was clear. The other soldiers, who had been half-listening, quickly averted their gazes, feigning disinterest. The air between them grew heavier, but not from the setting sun.
Ren felt it too. The weight in their captain's voice. The subtle shift in atmosphere.
One more day.
That meant the job was almost over. That meant after tonight, they'd be gone.
So why did it feel like something was still hanging over them?
Saria clicked her tongue but didn't push further. Instead, she stretched her arms lazily, glancing once more at Ren with an unreadable glint in her eyes.
"You heard the captain, rookie. Be careful what you say," she mused, her voice playful but laced with something else—something deeper. "Loose lips sink ships, after all."
Ren didn't respond. She wasn't sure if she even could.
She had been with the MPs for only a few months. Long enough to understand that things weren't quite as glamorous as they had seemed from the outside. Long enough to see what kind of work they truly did.
This job was no different.
Standing guard. Watching. Keeping unwanted eyes away.
That was the official story, at least.
But Ren wasn't a fool. She had seen the way the warehouse workers moved—hurried, careful, carrying crates without markings. She had seen the way their captain kept his lips pressed into a firm line whenever a new delivery arrived in the dead of night.
And she had heard the muffled sounds from inside.
A voice.
Or was it just her imagination?
No, it wasn't.
She tried to tell convince herself otherwise during the first day. It didn't last long.
"Why?"
She remembered asking. On that day, Four days ago, a few hours from now.
The day her worldview fell apart.
"Because we weren't given a choice. If we said no, we'd be buried before sunrise. It's the price of wearing this uniform." Her Captain responded, voice filled with weary pragmatism.
"I don't like this either. But The Noble in question isn't someone we can afford to offend. He's part of the Council, with friends in very high places."
"Still, this… it feels like we're past the point of no return."
The carefree female officer, Saria smirked and chimed in with cold amusement: "Oh, sweet summer child. The MPs have always been rotten. This is just a more profitable brand of rotten."
Ren wasn't a Top Ten Graduate of The Cadet Corps. Neither was she a fresh one out of the academy. It had been three years since Graduation.
Logically speaking, she should be in the Garrison Regiment, or The Survey Corps. However, she had one thing the vast majority of other graduates in the 103rd Cadet Corps didn't have.
A good mother who had made it into the Top Ten during her training days and joined the Military Police Brigade.
After spending two years serving in The Garrison, she miraculously woke up one day to find an official letter, informing her of her Reassignment to the Police Brigade.
Ren didn't know her mom managed to make it happen. But she could have sworn that that was the happiest day of her life.
Her mother didn't seem to see it that way, though.
Now she knew why.
Ren wasn't naive. Knowing clearly that the Military Police was filled with Corruption.
She just failed to fathom how deep the rabbit hole goes. Taking bribes? Yes. Selling Government property? Yes. Oppressing the people? Yes. It was wrong, but to survive, to be as Far away from The Titans as possible, she could live with it.
But this? It was worse than what regular MP's turned a blind eye to. Just why were they even here? How could they even turn a blind eye to this?
In that moment, she turned her gaze to examine them secretly. None of them, from the Captain to the last member looked even mildly conflicted.
Like they had long come to terms with this.
Ren's hands clenched at her sides, but she didn't speak.
She shifted her stance slightly, her grip tightening around the strap of her rifle.
One more day.
That was all.
So why did she feel like she was standing on the edge of something far bigger than herself?
Gregor noticed the rookie's mental state. Just her body movements and expressions, he could probably guess what she was thinking.
The middle-aged man resisted the urge to sigh. Clearly remembering how he had been in her shoes all those years ago.
With years of experience, he knew just how suffocating the rotten stench of Corruption was. After being bathed with it, how could he not?
The people up top didn't care about these things. Typically, they were the ones ordering it.
He could only blame his bad luck for being chosen to carry out this heinous task.
Hopefully, this rookie would learn to adapt, just like he did. If no, she could end up 'transferred' somewhere ugly. Or worse, the First Interior Squad would pay a visit.
Now, he could only focus on his job. Make sure no one got into this Warehouse until everything was done.
However, with the way things were looking, that would prove difficult. Trost had been stirred up with the string of disappearances.
The Garrison had already implemented a Curfew and began searching the city for clues. In due time, they would come to search in this direction.
In that case, a clash was inevitable. He could only hope it wouldn't come to that. Unfortunately, Lady Luck wasn't on his side.
As in the distance, a group of Garrison soldiers approached in their direction.
"Speak of the devil…" Gregor muttered darkly, his grip tightening on his gun.
"Keep quiet, They're coming."
Everyone else carried similar frowns.
"Nobody say what they're not supposed to or act rashly. Once we chase them off, The biggest hurdle is passed. In a day, we hand this off to whoever's taking over. Then we forget this ever happened."
The Night would be fully upon them soon.
At the far end of the street, figures were approaching.
The Garrison.
A squad of six soldiers, moving with clear intent.
At the front, a broad-shouldered man with short blond hair and sharp eyes stepped forward. Brandt Waldman.
Gregor exhaled through his nose. Just great.
It wasn't long.
The Garrison squad stopped a few feet from the MPs, their leader, Brandt Waldman stepping forward.
"We're conducting a final sweep of the district," Brandt announced. "Orders from command. We'll be searching this warehouse."
Gregor didn't move. He didn't even blink.
"Bad timing," he said flatly. "This is a nobleman's property. We have orders to guard it. No one goes in."
Brandt crossed his arms. "That so?" He glanced at his soldiers, then back at the MPs. "You sure about that?"
Saria sighed dramatically. "Oh, please. Are you actually implying that we, the honorable Interior Military Police, are conspiring with criminals?" She placed a hand on her chest, feigning offense. "That's a serious accusation."
Brandt's jaw tightened. "It's not an accusation. It's an investigation. So unless you want to explain to your superiors why you're obstructing it—"
Gregor stepped forward, cutting him off. "You don't have superiors here. This is a Job for the Military Police, and we will be held liable for any damage to the cargo. Not you. Now understand that and get lost."
The Garrison soldiers stiffened, hands drifting toward their weapons.
For a moment, it seemed like things were about to escalate.
"Stand down." Brandt uttered, calming his men.
Looking at the Police Brigade before him, a small smirk made its way up his features.
"Alright," he said casually. "Fine. If you refuse, I'll take this up with Commander Pixis. He's still in Trost, isn't he? I'm sure he'll be very interested to know that the MPs blocked an investigation into missing civilians."
A long silence followed.
Gregor's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes.
Pixis was still in Trost. And if this situation was reported to him, things could spiral out of control fast.
The MP clenched his jaw, then exhaled sharply.
"Fine. Make it quick."
Brandt gestured, and the Garrison soldiers moved in.
The door was opened, and The search team swept through the warehouse with slow, deliberate steps. Opening a few crates, looking in all directions.
"What, afraid you'll find a sack of potatoes instead of criminals?"
Gregor stood beside Brandt, watching the scene gloomily.
Time elapsed. Five minutes later … "All clear."
"Good…" Brandt uttered. "That's the last one today. Our job is done. Let's go…"
Then, the man turned to the Military Police and nodded.
"Thank you for your willing cooperation."
With one last glance at Gregor, he turned and led his soldiers away.
"They're gone." a soldier said as The Garrison disappeared down the street.
Gregor let out a breath. "Fucking bastards."
Saria stretched lazily. "Well, that was annoying."
"Do you think they saw anything?"
"Unlikely. This was probably a move to annoy us and make us uncomfortable."
"Still, I feel it's too close a call."
"I agree. I don't know how much more of this we can take before we get caught."
In the discussions, Ren kept silent.
"That was a rollercoaster, wouldn't you agree rookie?" at that moment, Saria came to get and patted her on the shoulder with a Friendly smile.
Gregor frowned as he exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple as though Saria's voice gave him a headache. "Watch your mouth," he muttered. "Nothing about this is funny."
His gaze flicked to the entrance of the warehouse, then to the other MPs posted at key positions. "We'll stay on high alert. Keep your weapons close. We've got a long night ahead."
Saria gave a dramatic yawn, stretching her arms above her head. "Oh, please. We won that little power struggle. There's no one left to bother us now. We just have to wait for the handoff and go home."
Gregor narrowed his eyes. "That's exactly the kind of thinking that gets people killed."
"…" The Warehouse fell into silence.
Gregor grunted and took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders as though shaking off an invisible weight. His nerves were stretched thin, and the stress of dealing with both the Garrison and this job sat heavily on his chest. He wasn't built for this kind of direct involvement.
Sure, The Garrison hadn't noticed anything this time. But who could say the same if this kept up?
Enough was enough. It was time for those bastards to restrain their actions.
"Watch the perimeter," he ordered the others. "If you see anything unusual, report it immediately." He turned on his heel, stepping toward a dimly lit alleyway just past the warehouse. His boots scuffed against the dirt as he moved, his body tense. "I need a minute to clear my head."
Sarai raised a brow at him, smirking. "Oh? Too much stress for you, old man?"
Gregor ignored her, slipping into the streets. He told himself it wasn't paranoia. He had just spent the last few minutes toeing the line between life and death—between loyalty and treason.
Although it was for different reasons, The rookie on his team had every reason to worry.
On official records, they were here to Transport the goods bought by a noble from Trost to Ehrmich. Nothing was wrong with this when put this way. It carried no falsehood.
However, that would change when anyone knew the true nature of the Goods they were Transporting.
Humans.