Author Notes: I will likely be editing some of the earlier chapter. Minor Details. Nothings story breaking. However I am in a conundrum because I am not sure going forward with the MC being a OC SI is best. I feel like it would work better if he was simply an OC. Let me know what you guys think.

Also Eric wasn't a exactly a great person in his first life irrespective of how much he may suffered. So expect him to be a absolute dick before his graduation. He may be tamed after that. No Promises though. I thought I could add flashback to explains why he makes those decisions but I am not exactly fond of Flashbacks. So maybe A quick author yap before the beginning of a chapter? or something else maybe?

Initially this was to be behemoth of a chapter and contain the entire cadet corps arc. However, Considering it would be spanning months or even years, I decided it was better if it was broken into pieces. Also Because I was itching to put something out as soon as possible.

Year 847

The day had finally come. Eric stood at the entrance of the Cadet Corps training grounds, his heart racing with a mixture of excitement and impatience. The journey to this moment felt inevitable, like he had been preparing for it his whole life. He had trained endlessly with wooden swords, honing his skills in mock battles, waiting for the day when he would take the next step. And now, at twelve years old, he was here—ready to begin his journey as a soldier.

The other cadets stood around him, their faces a mixture of fear, nervousness, and excitement. Eric, however, felt none of that. He felt… ready. More than ready. He had been training for this moment for years, and, in many ways, his past life experience made him feel like he had already done all of this before. What could basic training teach him that he didn't already know? He had lived through wars in his previous life, and though the details were blurry, the instinct remained. To him, this felt like a formality—a step toward something bigger.

The group around him buzzed with chatter. Some were excited, others terrified, but all of them were focused on one thing: surviving their first day. He wasn't afraid. This wasn't some grand test for him. He was confident in his abilities.

A boy next to him, Eren Yeager with dark hair and a determined face, was talking animatedly to another about why he joined the Cadet Corps. The kid had been shouting his ambitions for revenge ever since they arrived. He was loud, passionate, and full of fire. Eric couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance.

Eren was all talk.

"I'm going to kill every last Titan," Eren was saying, his eyes blazing with intensity.

Eric rolled his eyes slightly, crossing his arms. He wasn't impressed by the bravado. Eren had no idea what he was getting into. None of them did. They didn't know the first thing about the reality of combat. But Eric did—he had seen it before, lived it before, even if the memories were fractured.

One of the other cadets, noticing Eric's dismissive expression, frowned. "You don't think he's serious?" the boy asked, his tone curious but cautious.

Eric glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, he's serious, alright," Eric replied, "But being serious doesn't make you capable. You don't win battles by shouting about what you're going to do."

The boy looked taken aback by Eric's tone, but he didn't say anything in return. Instead, he glanced nervously at Eren, who hadn't heard the remark.

As the drill instructor, a towering man with a booming voice, began barking orders, Eric stood at attention, barely flinching. He'd seen tougher than this in his past life, though the memories remained fragmented and distant.

Around him, the other cadets whispered nervously, stealing glances at their new instructor, the intimidating figure of Keith Shadis. Shadis loomed over them, his stern gaze sweeping across the fresh recruits, eyes piercing through their nerves. Eric could hear the whispers of the cadets around him, their awe and fear evident.

"That's Commander Shadis, right? The one who used to lead the Survey Corps?"

"Yeah… they say he's brutal."

Eric's mouth tightened into a thin line. He had heard about Shadis, but he wasn't nervous like the others. He'd been through worse in his first life. This? This was just another step, another challenge.

"Listen up!" Shadis's voice boomed, cutting through the cadets' chatter like a blade. He stepped forward, towering over the group. "You're here to become soldiers. Some of you will make it through this, and some of you won't. Most of you aren't cut out for this, but I'll do my damned best to turn you into something useful. If you fail, it won't be because I didn't try."

Eric watched Shadis closely, trying to assess the man. There was a weight to his presence, a kind of authority that only came from years of experience.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly, trying to steady his racing thoughts. He had trained for this, both in his previous life and in this one. He was faster, stronger, and more experienced than any of these kids. The memories of his past life had made sure of that. He had known war—perhaps not with Titans—but he knew what it felt like to fight, to struggle for survival. And more than that, he knew how easily people could die.

"Line up!" the instructor yelled, his voice echoing across the training field. "I don't care where you're from or why you're here. None of that matters now. All that matters is whether or not you've got what it takes to survive."

Eric fell into line with the others, his posture perfect, his eyes forward.

The instructor paced in front of them, eyeing each cadet with a scrutinizing glare before finally stopping in front of a poor kid

"You!" the instructor barked. "What's your name, cadet?"

And on he went terrorizing kids and until He moved down the line and stopped in front of Eric.

The instructor's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked him up and down. "You," he said, his voice sharp. "What's your name, cadet?"

"Eric Smith, sir," Eric replied, his voice calm and confident.

The instructor raised an eyebrow. "Smith? You are Erwin's son?"

Eric felt a small smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. Of course, the name would be recognized. "Yes, sir."

The instructor didn't react much, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—maybe curiosity, maybe skepticism. "you better live up to the name," he barked, moving on.

As the day wore on and the training drills began, Eric performed each task with practiced ease. His movements were fluid, his reflexes sharp. While many of the other cadets struggled to keep up, panting and faltering under the physical strain, Eric moved with a calm confidence that made him stand out.

As the sun began to set and the first day of training came to an end, Eric stood alone at the edge of the training field, his eyes scanning the horizon. The other cadets were exhausted, some collapsing on the ground, others murmuring about how brutal the training had been.


The first order of the day was simple enough—ODM gear drills.

As the instructors began handing out the equipment, the cadets lined up to try it out. Some were eager, others apprehensive. When it was Eric's turn, he strapped the gear on with a practiced ease, drawing a few curious glances from the other recruits. He could feel their eyes on him, watching as he adjusted the straps with the fluidity of someone far more experienced.

"Confident, are we?" one of the instructors muttered, raising an eyebrow at him.

Eric tightened the straps of his ODM gear, a smirk playing at the edge of his lips. Confidence wasn't just something he carried—it was a shield, a way to mask the whirlwind of emotions underneath.

The instructor's eyes narrowed as Eric stood there, exuding an almost casual confidence. "Let's see if you can back that up, recruit," the instructor grunted, stepping back to observe.

One by one, the cadets were hooked to the harnesses and took their first attempts at using the ODM gear. The sound of clanking metal and the occasional thud of bodies hitting the ground filled the air. Some cadets struggled to keep balance, arms flailing as the unfamiliar weight of the gear pulled them off-center. Eric watched as cadets were pulled up, some wobbling through the air, others managing to stay upright but not exactly gracefully.

When it was finally his turn, Eric stepped forward without hesitation. The moment he was hooked to the line, his hands gripped the triggers of the ODM gear, and he launched himself into the air. A feeling of weightlessness, of cutting through the air, hit him instantly. His body moved fluidly, the gear responding as if it were an extension of him.

While the spme stumbled through their first attempts, Eric soared effortlessly. He wasn't just controlling the gear—he was mastering it.

The cadets on the ground stared as he descended.

"Did you see that?"

"Who the hell is that kid?"

"He made it look so easy…"

He didnt care what others thought. For him, It was about control. About proving to himself that he had some measure of power in a world where so much seemed out of his hands. He had been reincarnated for a reason, hadn't he? This was part of it. It had to be.

Keith Shadis, standing at a distance with his arms crossed, narrowed his eyes as he watched Eric land effortlessly. His face remained a mask of stone, but inside, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of something—surprise, maybe.

Shadis stepped forward, his boots crunching on the dirt as he approached Eric. The rest of the recruits parted as Shadis neared, a ripple of nervousness passing through the group.

"Recruit Smith," Shadis said, his voice even but carrying the weight of authority. Eric looked up, meeting his gaze without flinching.

"Yes, sir?"

There was something in Shadis's tone, something Eric couldn't quite place. Disapproval? Maybe. Suspicion? But before Eric could dwell on it, Shadis turned his attention to the rest of the recruits.

"You could all learn something from Recruit Smith here," Shadis said, his voice rising as he addressed the group. "But don't think for a second that natural talent or fancy tricks will keep you alive outside the walls. It won't. Hard work, discipline, and a calm head is what will keep you alive. Remember that."

Eric remained silent as Shadis walked away.

As the rest of the cadets returned to their training, Eric felt a few eyes on him—some curious, others resentful.


As the days went on, Eric continued to outperform the other cadets, his movements precise and fluid. He didn't stumble, didn't falter, and didn't offer help when others did. Every time he was paired with someone for sparring or drills, he defeated them quickly and efficiently, not out of malice, but out of a sense of necessity.

In his mind, he had to get stronger. He had to be better than anyone else because in this world, weakness was likely a death sentence. He had seen too much loss in his previous life to believe otherwise. His parents—his new parents—would be canon fodder if he didn't protect them. So he pushed himself harder.

But to the other cadets, it came off differently. They saw Eric's quick victories and his unwillingness to help others as arrogance. He didn't speak much, didn't joke around like the others, and always seemed to be a step ahead of everyone else. It wasn't long before the whispers started again, only this time, they were filled with resentment.

"He thinks he's better than us."

"He never even helps anyone up after sparring. What a jerk."

Eric heard them, but he didn't care. He couldn't afford to care. He wasn't here to make friends. He was here to survive, to grow stronger, to find out what his purpose was in this strange new life.

But as he walked back to the barracks that evening, a part of him wondered if he was already losing sight of himself. The other cadets had their friendships, their camaraderie. They leaned on each other, supported each other, but Eric had never learned how to do that. Not in his first life, and not in this one.

As the sun set, casting long shadows across the training grounds, Eric lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling. The world outside the walls was filled with Titans, monsters that threatened to wipe out humanity.

And as sleep slowly claimed him, Eric couldn't shake the feeling that no matter how hard he trained, no matter how strong he became, he was always going to be fighting alone.