As the morning sun crested the top of Wall Sina, the grand council hall slowly filled with bodies — far more than usual. The space, once cavernous and echoing, was packed with nobles, commanders, administrators, and every surviving captain-level official from the three branches. The deaths of many top-level aristocrats and ministers had left holes in the hierarchy, holes that were now masked by the sheer volume of personnel summoned.
The atmosphere was thick. Too thick.
Nile Dok, head of the Military Police, shifted uneasily as he crossed the hall with Commander Dot Pixis beside him.
He leaned close, whispering under his breath, "Commander, doesn't something feel off to you?"
Pixis, ever composed, stroked his chin.
"If it is a blessing, worrying does no good. And if it is a disaster… we cannot avoid it by trembling."
His tone was calm, almost flippant — but his eyes scanned the hall with a sharp, restless vigilance that betrayed the truth.
Others in the chamber felt it too. A strange pressure, like the air before lightning strikes. Even though everyone spoke in lowered voices, the entire hall felt on edge, nerves stretched tight as bowstrings.
Something was coming.
Everyone knew it.
No one knew what.
That made it worse.
Elsewhere in the same building, Lock arrived — but he did not attempt to enter the council hall. Instead, he climbed directly to the top floor, where the true meeting would take place.
Inside the room, Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, and Darius Zackly were already present. The so-called king — the puppet monarch placed on the throne generations ago — stood awkwardly near the corner, his regal façade stripped away. There was no majesty in him now. His eyes were vacant. His shoulders hunched. A trembling leaf, no more.
Lock stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
"Is it handled?" he asked calmly.
Erwin nodded. "Yes. There was no reason for him to refuse. Only Pixis and the two remaining ministers were aware of Rod Reiss's true identity. As long as those three keep silent, the public will have nothing to question."
Zackly's glasses glinted.
"You needn't worry about Pixis," he said. "He's practical. He won't fight the tide. As for Nile…" Zackly shrugged almost lazily. "If he becomes troublesome, apply pressure. His family is an easy point. But personally, I'd prefer he resign willingly — saves us future complications."
Nile Dok and Pixis had long wielded real authority in their respective corps. Their personal networks reached deep into the Walls. Confrontation with either man could be done — Lock had the strength and manpower — but it would create too much noise. Too much resentment. Too many scars on the newborn order.
Lock understood this. He nodded.
"I'll leave Pixis to your judgment. As for Nile…"
Erwin stepped forward. "I'll handle him."
Lock raised a brow, and Erwin added, "Nile and I are classmates. I'd rather speak to him before forcing his hand."
Lock accepted this without argument. He wasn't here to micromanage every relationship inside the Walls.
And unlike the true royal family, he did not crave the throne.
"As long as they don't obstruct the reforms," Lock said, "I don't care who sits where."
Everything he was doing — all the scheming, the political traps, the military pressure — had one purpose:
Survival.
Survival for the island.
Survival for the people.
A future where their world wasn't determined by Marley's rifles or Titans on the horizon.
Erwin seemed relieved by Lock's flexibility. He nodded to Zackly, and together they prepared to leave the room, ready to confront Nile Dok and Pixis before the official council began.
Their opinions must be aligned before anything else happens.
When the two of them stepped out, Levi remained. His sharp grey eyes rested briefly on Lock, assessing him with an interest he rarely showed.
Lock opened his mouth to speak — but Levi beat him to it.
"Kenny's out there, isn't he?"
Lock chuckled softly.
"Do you want to see him?"
Levi shook his head. "No. Just asking."
But Lock caught the faint flicker behind Levi's eyes — something unresolved, a tension not even Levi himself could articulate. Family wasn't simple for any Ackerman.
Lock, let it go.
His attention shifted to the puppet king.
A man who once played the role of monarch and now stood like a frightened clerk.
"You know what to do, yes?" Lock said.
The puppet king straightened instantly.
"I—I understand everything. I won't reveal anything. I'll say exactly what I'm told. Please… have no worries, sir."
The lack of dignity was painful to watch.
But Lock had no interest in dignity.
He cared only for stability.
The monarchy would soon be nothing more than a symbol — a relic maintained purely so the public didn't panic at a sudden change.
He walked to the tall window overlooking the square below.
From here, he saw it all:
The Anti-Human Suppression Squad is stationed at key choke points.
The Survey Corps soldiers are guarding the building's perimeter.
And his own 300-man force — loyal, disciplined, battle-tested — forming a silent ring around the grounds.
Two layers of protection.
Enough to contain anything that might erupt.
Inside the hall, nearly every official with influence or power had already entered. They were, as the phrase went, turtles in a jar — all assembled in one place, unable to slip away.
Lock breathed out slowly.
This day finally came.
For years, Marley had done nothing.
No invasion.
No bombardment.
No assassins crossing the sea.
That silence — that uncharacteristic restraint — had given Lock the one thing he needed most:
Time.
Time to consolidate.
Time to prepare.
Time to reshape the island's future in secret.
He knew it would not last.
But every minute counted.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he thought of the coming council meeting — of the decisions that would anchor Paradis's next era.
A cold glint passed through them.
"Let's begin," he whispered.
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