The Training Corps consisted of new recruits and the instructors responsible for forging them into soldiers. Their curriculum included training in Vertical Maneuvering Equipment, close-quarters combat, and live-combat assessments.
That morning, Lucien once again paid seven gold coins and followed the Shop Owner to the military training grounds.
"If you want to join the Garrison Regiment, you'll have to go through the Training Corps first," the Shop Owner explained. "They'll test your endurance, discipline, and skill. Fail too badly, and you're out. But if you pass… I can pull some strings to get you into the Garrison Regiment."
Lucien simply nodded. "No problem."
Though the man was greedy, he worked efficiently once paid. Out of his original pouch of coins, Lucien had a few coins left, the rest had vanished into the Shop Owner's pocket.
They soon arrived at a military camp. The Shop Owner spoke quietly with a uniformed officer, slipped something into his hand, then pointed at Lucien.
Lucien smiled faintly.
Seventeen days left.
By his count, in ten days, the Colossal Titan would breach Wall Rose.
Eren Yeager and the others were still members of the 104th Cadet Corps—fresh recruits assisting the Garrison Regiment with wall maintenance and cannon repairs. In a few days, they would choose their future divisions: the Survey Corps, the Garrison Regiment, or the Military Police.
Perhaps by joining now, he might even meet them.
"I've done my part," the Shop Owner said after a few minutes. "Pass their test, and you're in. If not…"
"Understood."
"Then good luck." The man waved and left.
"Follow me," the officer said flatly. His tone carried the faint disdain of someone who'd seen too many backdoor recruits. Most of them never lasted.
Lucien followed, calm and silent. He wasn't here for glory or titles—he was here to master the Vertical Maneuvering Equipment and confirm his next target.
The camp opened up into a vast training field filled with new recruits in standard yellow uniforms. None of them were familiar faces. Clearly, this wasn't the 104th Cadet Corps—those recruits were nearing graduation.
After passing through the training field, they climbed a wooden staircase to a second-floor office. The officer knocked on the door.
"Come in."
"Instructor Keith, this man wishes to join the Training Corps."
Behind the desk sat a tall, bald man with deep-set eyes and a grave expression—Keith Shadis, the General Instructor of the 104th Training Corps and once Commander of the Survey Corps. His gaze was sharp enough to cut steel.
As Lucien examined Keith, the instructor did the same. The young man had shoulder-length black hair, dark eyes, a faint scar on his forehead, and pale skin that hinted at poor nutrition. He was lean but well-built—nothing about him screamed "soldier."
Keith frowned. "The 105th and 106th Cadet Corps have already finished recruitment. My advice? Go home. This isn't for you."
He had seen countless overconfident civilians who thought soldiering was easy. Most left in tears.
Lucien smiled calmly. "How will I know if I don't try?"
Keith's expression hardened. "Ignorant fool."
"I heard you're the General Instructor here," Lucien said, eyes steady. "That means you're strong. If I defeat you, does that mean I qualify to join?"
The officer beside them froze. No one—no one—had ever dared to challenge Keith Shadis.
Keith's lips twisted into a cold smile. "It's been a while since anyone's provoked me."
He stood up, towering over Lucien by nearly a head. His presence was crushing, like a boulder pressing down.
"To the training ground, then."
"No need." Lucien lifted a finger. "I'll finish this in one move."
The silence that followed was almost unbearable.
Keith's eyes narrowed—then he lunged forward, his punch slicing through the air with a sharp whoosh. His attack was fast, powerful, and precise—fast enough to stun any normal trainee.
But in Lucien's eyes, it moved like slow motion.
He tilted his head slightly, stepped forward, and drove his fist into Keith's abdomen.
"Gh—!"
Keith's body jerked violently. Blood burst from his mouth as he fell to one knee, gasping and clutching his stomach. The officer watching went pale.
Instructor Keith—the strongest man in the Training Corps—was brought down with a single strike.
Ten minutes later, Keith sat back in his chair, pale and trembling. If that blow had landed an inch higher or lower, he might've died. He'd only ever seen that kind of power and speed from one man—Levi Ackerman.
Lucien stood calmly, as if nothing had happened. "Now am I qualified to join the Training Corps?"
Keith stared at him in silence for a long moment before finally speaking. "…You can."
He couldn't deny what he'd witnessed. A genius like this only appeared once in a generation.
But he still intended to have the newcomer's identity checked. Fortunately, the Shop Owner had already arranged a convincing backstory—Lucien Graves, survivor from Wall Maria. Given the wall's fall five years ago, verifying his history would take time.
"Which unit do you want to join?" Keith asked finally.
"The 104th Cadet Corps."
Keith frowned again, wincing slightly as he adjusted his posture. "They're about to graduate. You may be strong, but you lack the necessary Vertical Maneuvering training."
Lucien met his gaze. "Give me nine days. If I can't meet the standard, you can do whatever you want with me."
Keith studied him quietly. "Nine days, huh…"
He nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll give you nine days."
After all, true prodigies earned exceptions. And perhaps, if Lucien truly lived up to his potential—Keith might be looking at the next Levi Ackerman.