The prison air was thick with salt, iron, and despair.
Lock could hear faint weeping before he even opened the door—ragged, human sounds that clashed with the cold clang of steel chains.
Inside, the stench of blood and medicine mingled with the dampness of the stone.
It was obvious Grisha Yeager had been crying. His eyes were red, his voice low as he turned toward Lock. Behind him, muffled sobs came from the deeper cells—Dina Fritz's voice, tinged with heartbreak. Somewhere between them, faint angry grunts echoed—likely Reiner, still gagged but not silent.
Lock exhaled softly. "Did you convince him?"
Grisha wiped his face, trying to compose himself. "Zeke agreed… to cooperate," he said carefully. "But—"
He looked back toward the cells. His voice trembled. "I still can't trust him completely."
Lock raised a brow. "He's your biological son, isn't he? Seems like a problem only you could have."
Grisha gave a humorless laugh. "It's because he's my son that I can't trust him. I haven't seen him since he was a child. I made him into what he is now. And for that, I'll always feel responsible."
He turned back to Lock, his tone hardening. "But guilt doesn't change the truth. Be careful, Lock. Don't let sentiment blind you. The future of Eldia depends on what you do next."
Lock nodded solemnly. "I know."
"Then come," Grisha said, straightening. "It's time you met him."
The deeper chamber was lit only by torchlight.
In one corner, Zeke Yeager sat upright, hands bound in heated shackles that hissed faintly against his wrists. Beside him, Dina Fritz watched silently, her face pale but calm. Across the hall, Reiner Braun thrashed weakly against his restraints, while Pieck Finger lay motionless on the ground—her eyes half-closed, either unconscious or pretending to be.
When Lock and Grisha entered, the low hum of tension seemed to thicken.
Zeke's eyes flicked toward them immediately. He had been awake for some time, quietly observing everything—the guards, the layout, the torch placements, even the echo of footsteps. His mind was always working.
He had heard the stories from Dina and Grisha about the new Commander of the Survey Corps—his ambition, his intellect, his terrifying ability to inspire others.
But he hadn't expected him to be so young.
"You're Lock," Zeke said, his voice calm but curious. He studied the man in front of him—short-cropped hair, sharp eyes, posture as steady as stone. "You're… not what I pictured."
Lock didn't smile. "And you're the Beast Titan," he said quietly. "You've made quite the mess of my island."
Zeke didn't flinch. "Are you here to kill me, or to talk?"
"Depends on your answer," Lock replied.
He stepped closer, his gaze unyielding. "Tell me—are you truly willing to cooperate?"
For a moment, silence filled the cell.
Then Zeke met his eyes fully, trying to read the truth behind them. What he saw unsettled him.
There was no hatred in Lock's stare. No anger, no fear. Only purpose.
Zeke frowned. How could someone so young carry eyes like that?
He hesitated—long enough for Dina to shift beside him, tugging gently at her restraints to draw his attention. She gave him a small, meaningful look.
Zeke finally exhaled. "What exactly do you want from me?"
"Technology," Lock said simply.
Zeke blinked. "That's all?"
He had expected many things—plans for conquest, demands for Titan secrets, a bid to overthrow Marley.
But not that single word.
"You're wasting my time if this is a test," Zeke said warily. "You know I'm a soldier, not an engineer. My value is in command."
Lock shook his head. "Your personal strength is irrelevant. Power fades. Titans can die. But technology…"
He leaned closer. "That endures."
Zeke's eyes narrowed. "You speak like someone who's seen Marley's cities."
Lock smiled faintly. "Let's just say I know enough."
For the first time, Zeke's composure wavered. "Then you're not from the walls, are you?"
"I was born here," Lock replied. "But the walls are no longer cages. They're stepping stones."
Zeke sat back, studying him again. "You know… your ideals sound impossible. Marley's dominance is built on centuries of control. They'll never allow Eldians—on or off this island—to rise."
Lock's voice hardened. "That's exactly why they must fall."
Dina's breath caught, but Grisha raised a hand to stop her.
Lock's words were steady, but his eyes burned with quiet fury.
"I want an Eldia that's free," he said. "Not one hiding behind walls, not one caged by guilt. And I want to end Marley's chains—by force if I have to."
He paused, then added coldly, "To be honest, I think Eldians who serve Marley deserve to die."
Zeke's jaw clenched. "So that's what you think of me."
"It's what you've been," Lock said, voice like steel. "But it's not what you have to stay."
The silence that followed was heavy. Only the faint hiss of the torches filled it.
Dina looked torn—hope flickering in her eyes. Grisha stood motionless, letting the two men speak as equals for the first time.
Zeke looked down, his voice low. "Cruel words, but not untrue. We were taught obedience since birth. Marley made sure of that. There was never another choice."
"There wasn't," Lock agreed. "Until now."
Zeke's head rose slightly at that.
He could tell from Lock's tone—it wasn't arrogance. It was certain
The kind of conviction that made empires move.
Zeke hesitated, then asked, "And the others? Reiner and Pieck?"
"Dead weight," Lock said bluntly. "They'll die."
Zeke's brow furrowed. "You're quick to judge."
Lock smirked. "Spare me the hypocrisy. You know better than anyone how your system works. Inheritors devour their predecessors. Thirteen years, then a new vessel. You're no stranger to blood."
Zeke inhaled deeply through his nose, forcing calm back into his voice. "Perhaps. But you're no savior either."
"Never claimed to be."
For a long time, they just stared at each other.
Two men, both carrying Eldia's curse in different forms—one by blood, one by destiny.
Then Zeke exhaled slowly. "Even if I wanted to help you, technology doesn't evolve overnight. It takes infrastructure, knowledge, and resources. Paradis doesn't have those things."
"You underestimate us," Lock said, almost amused. "We've already begun. Hanji developed the first working steam engine. The rest will follow."
That made Zeke blink.
"Steam…?" he murmured. "On this island?"
Lock nodded. "It's only a beginning. But with your knowledge—and your connections—we can accelerate it."
Zeke tilted his head. "Connections?"
Lock's gaze sharpened. "I know about the nations Marley destroyed. The ones that still resist in secret. They have scientists, inventors, and engineers who hate Marley as much as you do."
Zeke's eyes widened. "How do you—"
"Because I know how your empire operates," Lock interrupted. "And I know that if you reach out to them, they'll listen. Not to me. Not to Grisha. But to you."
Zeke fell silent, realization dawning.
He knew Lock was right.
If he could reach the remnants of Marley's enemies—those scattered nations clinging to survival—they could bring their knowledge to Paradis.
It was dangerous, impossible even… but not unthinkable.
Lock's voice softened. "You can bring them here. That's all I ask."
Zeke stared at him, searching for deceit—and found none.
"Why should I trust you?" he asked finally.
Lock's answer was immediate. "Because I'm giving you what you never had—a choice."
Zeke's lips parted, then closed again. His expression darkened, torn between defiance and something like respect.
He looked to Grisha and Dina. They said nothing, but the look in Grisha's eyes said everything.
Pride. Fear. Hope.
After a long pause, Zeke said quietly, "I can give you a chance. One."
Lock tilted his head. "Define chance."
Zeke leaned forward slightly, the chains at his wrists clinking. "If you want the world's exiles to help you, you'll need more than speeches. You'll need sincerity. Real proof that this island can change—that it won't repeat Marley's sins."
He held Lock's gaze. "Show me that, and I'll make the contact myself."
The challenge hung between them, sharp as a blade.
Lock's expression didn't waver.
"I accept," he said simply.
Zeke studied him for another long moment—then leaned back, smiling faintly for the first time.
"Then I'll look forward to seeing what kind of devil you really are."
As they left the cell, Grisha's steps were heavy but steady.
"You did well," he said quietly.
Lock's tone was flat. "He agreed because he sees an angle. Not because he believes me."
Grisha smiled sadly. "That's how belief starts."
Behind them, in the dark cell, Zeke sat motionless.
Dina reached out, her fingers brushing his sleeve. "Do you really trust him?"
Zeke's eyes glinted in the half-light. "No," he said. "But I'm beginning to wonder if I should."
---
A/N: Advance Chapter Has Been Uploaded. Please Check It Out. It will really help me out and will keep me motivated to continue.
Support: patreon.com/Narrator_San