The descent into the underground detention sector beneath Wall Sina was long and quiet. Lock passed through checkpoint after checkpoint, nodding to the Military Police soldiers who saluted him with unwavering respect. His boots echoed along the dim stone corridors, lantern light flickering against walls that had once imprisoned countless political dissidents under the old monarchy.
Finally, after the sixth iron gate opened, Lock stepped into the final chamber.
This was where Rod Reiss—the former true king of the Walls—lived out the remainder of his life.
Despite being labeled a prison, the chamber resembled a miniature palace. Nearly a thousand square meters of polished stone flooring, ornate furnishings, embroidered rugs, and expensive oil lamps made the space resemble a noble's residence far more than a cell.
Lock exhaled through his nose.
"Zachary's sense of justice is… creative," he muttered.
It was crueler than chains. No torture. No beatings. No interrogations. Just silence—days, weeks, months of suffocating silence, with no books, no voice, no sky. An elegant cage designed to let the mind rot in isolation. Lock admitted privately that even he might not last long in such emptiness.
Rod Reiss lifted his head the moment Lock appeared. He had been speaking with Historia—quietly and earnestly—until the sound of footsteps pulled both their gazes toward the entrance.
"Lock!" Rod stumbled toward the bars, desperation etched across his tired face. "Please—please listen to me! I have nothing left. I swear, I won't resist you. Just… let me out. I'll stay out of the government, out of public life, out of everything. I won't hinder you—"
Lock walked past him without even acknowledging his existence.
He stopped beside Historia, who looked startled at his sudden appearance.
"I'm here to take you back," Lock said gently. "Let's go."
Historia cast one last look toward her father. Regret and sorrow mixed in her eyes—emotions Lock had expected. She was kind down to her bones, almost painfully so.
If she truly despised Rod, she would not have risked suspicion by visiting him at all.
They turned to leave, but Rod's voice cracked behind them.
"Historia…! At least—say something to me!"
She hesitated but said nothing, her hand tightening around her cloak.
Lock glanced back at the former monarch once, his expression cold and unreadable.
Rod froze.
He understood instantly.
Compared to loneliness… he feared death far more. Lock didn't have to threaten him—the possibility hung in the air with chilling certainty.
Rod had been king long enough to read people. He knew Lock now held all real power in the Walls. If Lock wanted him erased, President Zachary would obey without question.
Rod's jaw trembled, and he sank back, unable to speak another word.
Lock didn't spare him a second glance. He guided Historia up the long staircase toward the surface, letting fresh air and sunlight gradually wash the underground chill from her cheeks.
Only when they reached the courtyard outside did he ask quietly:
"Do you want him released?"
Historia's lips pressed together. "I… thought about it. But…"
She shook her head and answered with newfound resolve:
"No. It's safer for him to stay there. The Walls are too unstable. If he were released now, it would cause trouble—for him and for everyone else. But… may I still visit him sometimes?"
Lock nodded. "You may. Just don't let it interfere with your responsibilities. Petra, Ymir, and you—you're all people I trust, and all three of you will hold major responsibilities as Paradis moves into a new era. Don't let me down."
Historia inhaled deeply, straightened her posture, and answered with conviction:
"I won't. I promise."
During the coming months, she would witness every change in the Walls—political, social, military. Under Lock's leadership, Paradis Island had transformed from a stagnant kingdom into a nation awakening to its future. She had seen firsthand the unity among the Corps, the advancement of technology, the rebuilding of cities, and the new freedoms granted to the people.
Her father's rule had never offered any of that.
He preserved the Walls, yes, but he never tried to strengthen them. He never tried to advance the nation. Never tried to protect its future.
Lock had done all of it within a single year.
No wonder the people adored him.
A weight settled on Historia's shoulders. Guilt, mixed with admiration. But when Lock reached out to rest his hand on her head, she startled slightly, then relaxed under the gentle gesture.
"Don't think too hard," he said softly. "None of this is your fault."
Her cheeks flushed pink. "Thank you, Captain…"
Silence settled between them—not awkward, but warm.
They might have remained there longer, but a soldier sprinted across the courtyard.
"Captain Lock! Commander Erwin and President Zachary are awaiting your presence in the Council office!"
Lock nodded. "I'm coming."
He turned toward Historia again.
"Help Petra and Ymir until I return. There's much to prepare. We'll be leaving soon."
"Leaving…?" she echoed.
"Yes. There won't be Titan attacks near the Walls anymore. Our attention will shift to the northern coastline. And since the Corps headquarters will eventually relocate there… so will all of you."
Historia blinked, stunned.
But then she smiled shyly.
"Then… I'll follow you, Captain."
Lock gave her a small nod, then strode toward the upper levels of the government building.
Behind him, Historia touched the place on her head where he had patted her—her cheeks still warm—before hurrying toward Petra and Ymir.
Lock, meanwhile, prepared for the next stage.
The Walls were awakening.
The future was coming fast.
And there was no turning back now.
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