Levi landed on a rooftop with a practiced grace, his blades slick with titan blood, steam curling off the metal. He’d just cleaved through the nape of a fifteen-meter class. Not his cleanest work, but it did the job.

He wiped a streak of blood from his cheek and turned, scanning the battlefield for his squad. His eyes found them—and then they found her.

The first titan—a six-meter, stumbling forward with grasping hands—dropped before it even registered she was there. Its head separated cleanly, steam hissing from the wound as it collapsed.

She didn’t stop. Her cables recoiled, launching her toward the next one. A nine-meter, its mouth open in that awful, mindless grin. She shot past it, spinning, and carved through the nape with surgical precision. A single, clean strike.

Levi’s jaw went slack.

Two down. She was already moving. Third titan—a twelve-meter, turning its head, trying to track her. Too slow. She kicked off a wall, reversed her grip on her blades, and drove them home between its shoulder blades. A spray of blood, a scream of steam, and it was over.

She touched down on a rooftop, blades dripping, chest rising and falling. She looked up, scanning for her next target—and caught his gaze.

Levi’s heart was hammering against his ribs. His cheeks burned, even through the grime and blood. He’d seen her fight before. Of course he had. She was his lieutenant. His right hand. The one he trusted to have his back in any storm.

But this—this was different. This was something else entirely.

She was still looking at him, waiting for an order. Waiting for him to say something.