The sky stretched high and clear, not a cloud in sight.
Rein dropped the stone from his hand, tilted his head back, and gazed upward, lost in a flood of thoughts.
Before him lay a large slab, scratched with sixteen tallies—each a neat "正"—and one more, just a single stroke.
"Eighty-one days," he mused.
Eighty-one days ago, the final volume of Attack on Titan dropped its big ending. Rein, buzzing with anticipation, had grabbed fried rice and cola, ready for the mind-blowing climax of an epic, god-tier manga's coronation.
Then, ten minutes later, he turned into a frontline critic, hammering out 120 words per minute on forums in a full-on rant mode.
Before bed, he even flung out a curse he'd regret forever: "Hajime Isayama's got no balls!"
Next thing he knew, he woke up. Whether Isayama paid for that curse, Rein couldn't say—but he sure did.
Because he'd transmigrated into a Titan. And not just any Titan—the sorriest kind: a mindless Pure Titan.
"Sigh…" Rein glanced at his smooth, bare abdomen and let out his 6,721st sigh.
But that wasn't the worst of it. The real kicker was the text hovering in his mind:
[Task: Enter Wall Maria
Time Limit: 1 Year
Reward: None
Penalty: Death]
A heartless system in a heartless world.
Finish the task? No reward. Fail it? Straight to the grave. What was this—exploitation? How was this any different from a capitalist grind? "Did I grab the wrong script?" Rein wondered deep down. "I'm not the Colossal Titan—how am I supposed to break in? With my life?"
At a measly 10 meters, this Pure Titan could only gawk up at Wall Maria from below.
Even if he somehow stormed in—then what? Get hacked to bits by the Survey Corps, alone?
Luckily, the system had that covered: make it inside Wall Maria, and it'd ensure he didn't die, plus unlock the next task.
"Sigh…"
His 6,722nd sigh escaped.
For 81 days, he'd circled Wall Maria once over.
The wall stood like a fortress—easy to defend, impossible to breach. He couldn't get in.
Days ticked by, and all he could do was wait.
But 81 days of staring into space weren't for nothing. After endless mental rehearsals and brain-racking, he'd figured it out.
The safest, fastest way into Wall Maria? Slip in when the Colossal Titan and Armored Titan smashed the gate—an easy ride on their coattails.
Great plan, except the timing wasn't his to control.
He waited and waited, until a few days ago, he couldn't take it anymore.
A chilling thought crept up.
"What if…" He swallowed hard. "What if the Colossal Titan doesn't kick the gate for another year?"
What year was it? Rein had no clue. Surrounded by drooling, brainless Pure Titans, he couldn't exactly ask around.
If he waited a year and nothing happened, wouldn't he just be sitting there, doomed?
"No way!" he roared inside. "this damn task can't be that simple! Relying on others won't cut it—I've got to do this myself!"
Decision made, he spent a few more days hashing out a final plan.
Today, he'd put an end to his 81-day slump.
Rein stood, glanced at the tally-scarred slab, turned on his heel, and moved in one fluid motion.
Under the morning light, his lanky shadow stretched straight toward Wall Maria.
Atop the not-so-wide wall, cannons cast long shadows in the sun—guardians of the interior, their dark muzzles aimed below, ready to fire at a moment's notice.
Maybe peace had lasted too long, or maybe the 50-meter wall seemed unbreakable. Even the Garrison had started slacking.
They'd never spot it: deep in a southern forest near Wall Maria, a Titan poked its head out.
It looked like any other mindless Titan, but peer into its eyes, and you'd see a fierce, burning glint.
Rein—he'd finally zeroed in on the wall's weakest link.
Wall Maria had Garrison posts spaced along its length, each armed with cannons.
Posts clustered thick near gates and bastions, but elsewhere, they thinned out.
After days of watching, Rein confirmed this spot was his best shot.
Over nearly a kilometer of wall here, just one cannon stood! Better yet, days of staking it out proved no one guarded it!
"Heh…" Rein couldn't hold back a cold chuckle. "Guess I'm the tenth Titan with a brain, beyond the Nine. A mind—damn, it's a fine thing!"
The spot was perfect, but there was a hitch: the wall was slick, no grip to be found.
Without hardening powers, clawing through and climbing was a dream.
Rein, of course, had already thought of that.
"The biggest gap between man and beast?" He pulled out a few stones from behind him. "Man makes tools!"
He'd spent days grinding these rocks—sharp tips, edged like crude hammers.
He scanned left and right, confirmed no one was around, then approached Wall Maria.
The wall loomed close. He reached out, fingers brushing it—cold to the touch, solid as stone.
But who'd believe thousands of 50-meter Titans were hidden inside, forming the wall's core, with humans building over them?
Rein knew this wasn't the time to marvel. He grabbed a sharp stone, summoned his strength, and slammed it into the wall.
Bang!
The stone's edge bit deep, half-buried in the surface.
"It worked!" Rein tamped down his racing heart, barely breathing. "Today, I'm finishing this task for sure!"
He repeated the trick, driving two more stones in. Stepping on one, gripping another, he yanked the first out and hammered it higher up.
The steps were clunky, the pace slow, but Rein slogged upward with his rough technique, inch by inch.
A real "one step at a time," huh? Too bad the move was tricky—ten minutes in, he'd barely climbed halfway.
Good thing his days of scouting paid off. Hanging on the wall this long, and still no one had spotted him! Keep going—just keep going, and he'd make it! In that moment, Rein ran through every encouraging word he could muster.
But he'd never guess that atop the empty wall, a fresh-faced young soldier was hurrying his way.