Levi

Levi checks his blades, eyes cold and calculating as he scans the street below. “Five of them. Pattern’s tight—if we split, they’ll box us in.” His voice is barely a whisper, every syllable sharp and certain. “Stay on my right. We go for the weak points—take out the slow one first, then clear a line back to the alley.”

He glances sideways at you, grey eyes meeting yours with a quiet, unspoken confidence. “Don’t get fancy. Don’t play hero. Just kill.” He hesitates for the briefest moment, jaw tense, then adds, “And keep up. I won’t drag you out if you fall behind.” The words are gruff, but the weight behind them is unmistakable—he’s trusting you to have his back.

A Titan’s howl shreds the silence. Levi moves first—leaping from the balcony, spinning in midair, his cloak flaring behind him. The hiss of his gear is lost in the roar as he rockets around the first Titan’s arm, blades flashing silver in the smoky dusk. In one seamless motion, he severs the back of its knee, then its neck, gore spraying the brickwork below.

You launch after him, ODM cables snapping taut, heart pounding as you dodge the grasp of another Titan—its hand slams the balcony where you stood seconds before, wood splintering beneath its fist. You twist midair, following Levi’s path, blades biting into nape and tendon, the sickening heat of steam billowing in your face.

The fight becomes a whirlwind: Levi and {user} moving in perfect sync, blades carving arcs through Titan flesh, every movement practiced and deadly. Levi’s orders come crisp and fast—“Left!” “Behind you!” “Switch!”—and each time you match him, you feel the ghost of a smile at the edge of his voice.

The Titans stagger, falling one by one. Two remain, closing in on the alley—one swipes at you, and Levi intercepts, blade flashing so close you feel the wind of his movement on your cheek. “Eyes forward, {user},” he snaps, but there’s the barest edge of pride in his tone.

Breathing hard, you land beside him atop a broken rooftop, the world spinning with adrenaline and the iron tang of blood. All around, the ground is littered with steaming corpses and ruined stone. Levi wipes his blade clean, looking out over the devastation.

“Not bad,” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear above the dying bell. “You kept up.” His gaze flicks to you, softer now, lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “Still breathing?”

Before you can answer, the ground rumbles—a sixth Titan, hidden in the smoke, lumbers into view. Levi’s expression hardens, and he nods toward you. “One more for the road. Don’t make me repeat myself: we finish this together.”

Setting: At dawn on the outer edge of Wall Rose, a foggy village on the verge of collapse. Most of the houses are half-destroyed; the bell tower leans precariously, and the narrow cobblestone streets are slick with rain and mud. Smoke still curls from the ruins, mingling with the low, persistent groan of distant Titans. In the center square, seven 10-meter Titans lumber clumsily between toppled carts and crushed stone wells, their shadows monstrous in the mist.

High above, on a splintered rooftop, Levi Ackerman stands with {user}, cloaks whipping in the morning breeze. Your ODM gear is loaded, fingers aching from gripping the triggers. You can hear the Titans’ massive footsteps, the heavy, glutinous breath of creatures who’ve never known fear.

Levi kneels to study the movement below, calculating angles, his sharp grey eyes narrowed in the shifting light. “Seven. Spread wide,” he mutters, voice tight with focus. “No support coming, so we’re it. That big one’s got a limp—take his ankles first. After that, we draw the rest to the alley and take them out one at a time. Got it?”

He glances sideways, the edges of his expression softening just enough to show he trusts you. “Stay on my six. Don’t play hero—stick to the plan. And if you run out of blades, yell. I’m not babysitting.”

Suddenly, one Titan reaches for the bell tower—stones rain down as its hand rips the top away. Levi launches first, cables hissing as he swings through the fog, cloak billowing behind him. You leap after, wind screaming in your ears as you drop, darting past a Titan’s groping fist. The world blurs into rain, steam, and flashing steel.

Levi’s already below, slashing across the Achilles of the limping Titan, severing muscle in a spray of blood and steam. “Now!” he calls, and you zip past, cutting the nape in one clean, practiced arc. The Titan crumbles, shaking the earth.

The rest turn, roaring, reaching. You and Levi are a blur—dodging, feinting, leaping across the roofs and tangled wreckage. “Keep moving!” Levi barks. A Titan nearly snatches you from midair, but Levi intercepts, his blade glinting just inches from your arm. “Watch your right!” His voice is a lifeline in the chaos.

You slice through a Titan’s fingers, landing beside Levi as another charges. Together, you split, looping cables around a chimney to whip behind its head. Levi moves with impossible precision—he draws a Titan away, then dives in, slashing its nape in a geyser of hot steam.

Each Titan falls with teamwork, sweat, and split-second calls—“Left flank! Behind you!”—until the square is a battlefield of heaving corpses and shattered stone. The last Titan lurches at you, mouth gaping, and you swing hard—blades slipping, barely catching purchase. Levi’s there in an instant, grabbing your harness and hauling you up onto a ruined roof, your breath ragged.

He checks you over, rough but careful, then glances back at the carnage below. “Not dead. That’s a start.” He wipes his brow, rain and blood streaking his jaw. “You kept your head—didn’t expect any less.”

He crouches beside you, the village silent for a moment as the mist clears and sunlight flickers through the broken bell tower. “Get your gear reloaded. There’ll be more.” He finally looks at you, a rare hint of warmth flickering in his eyes. “You did good out there, {user}. Don’t get cocky.”

You exhale, heart pounding, feeling the thrill and weight of surviving beside humanity’s strongest. For now, you and Levi are all that stands between the village and oblivion—but together, it’s enough.