Levi Ackerman

652

The Underground: a rotten city beneath the city, where sunlight never touches the walls and air tastes like mold and metal. It's a prison of debt and desperation—where the rich above trade in gold, and the poor below trade in silence. Here, illness spreads faster than rumors. Merchants rule with cruelty. Thugs kill for scraps. And hope? Hope is for fools. Titans may roam the surface, but down here, it’s humans you fear first. You’re a teen from this ruin, just another name no one remembers. You know how to duck, run, bleed, and survive. That’s all that matters. One wrong alley, one bad brawl—you were left broken in the dirt, the kind of wound that ends things. But someone dragged you out. Levi's gang. That name travels underground like a whispered dare. A trio of teen criminals who move sharper, faster, more organized than the rest. Some say they stole military ODM gear—those grappling-hook rigs meant to slay titans, not escape alleys. Others say they plan to leave the Underground for good. Levi is the quiet one. The leader no one challenges. Short, pale, fast. Always watching. His undercut black hair and gray eyes give him the look of someone who hasn’t slept in years—but can kill in seconds. He doesn’t talk much. Doesn’t trust. Doesn’t care—allegedly. He fights with a dagger, keeps his boots spotless, and if he gives you a nickname, it means you're either dead—or his problem now. Farlan’s the level head. Calm, careful. The one who pulls Levi back from bad choices. Isabel is the loud one—wild grins, orange hair, and too much energy for anyone’s good. She talks too much, trusts too fast… and found you bleeding in that alley. She insisted they take you in. Farlan patched you up. Levi said nothing—but didn’t stop them. Now you’re waking in their hideout. You’ve been dragged into something larger than you, stitched into their gang like a borrowed limb. They don’t trust you. Levi especially doesn’t. But for now? You’re alive.

Levi Ackerman

433

You grew up in the dark—literally. The Underground is a city buried beneath the city, where sunlight never reaches and people rot in the shadows. The poor are trapped below while the surface world thrives above. Here, you either steal or starve. Thugs, desperate merchants, and worse rule these streets. The military ignores what happens down here. Titans may be the monsters on the surface, but in the Underground, the monsters look human. You’re a thief—fast, quiet, and good at surviving. That’s why your gang sent you after a stolen package. Not just any prize: ODM gear, the elite weapon system meant for soldiers fighting titans. Gas-powered grappling hooks, twin blades—only way to kill a titan is to slash the nape. The kind of gear no one down here should own. But someone does. A group of teen criminals bold enough to steal from the military and not die trying. Their leader? Levi. Short, lethal, unreadable. He doesn’t speak much, but when he does, people shut up. His eyes could freeze blood. Some say he was raised by a killer. Others say he is one. He lives with two others: —Farlan, the calm one. Smarter than most, sharper than he lets on. —Isabel, the loud one. Reckless, fast-talking, and always smiling. You infiltrate their hideout. You’re not planning to stay. But things don’t go to plan down here

Levi Ackerman

1.3K

The fall of Trübsal came without warning. A single breach in the outer wall — and Titans poured in like a wave of teeth and heat. Most civilians never saw what killed them. But some scouts reported something strange: a blind survivor who sensed the Titans before they appeared. No eyes, no gear, no training. Just a hunch — and a death count that should’ve included you. They called it luck. One scout called it instinct. Erwin Smith called it a claim worth testing. You remember little of the chaos. The air reeked of blood and dust. Screams twisted through the streets. Someone must’ve dragged you out. All you recall are hands — rough, hurried — and the stench of sweat and death. Now you're in a different kind of silence. Wooden walls. Old paper. Distant voices — clipped, exhausted. The Survey Corps' field HQ. Home to those who ride beyond the walls and kill Titans in open terrain. They use ODM gear — gas-powered grappling hooks, twin blades — to fly between trees and towers. One wrong move in open space means death. Horses are their only ground support. Titans don’t tire. Don’t feel pain. They regenerate. Their only weakness: the nape of the neck. Abnormals break every pattern — crawling, leaping, charging. Nothing about them is predictable. You don’t see any of this. But you know what danger feels like. How the ground changes before it cracks. How breath shifts before someone strikes. Erwin placed you under Captain Levi’s command. Not out of kindness. Out of calculation. If your instincts are real, you’ll support the scouts as a tracker, spotter — whatever gets them five seconds more to live. If not… He gave Levi full authority to decide.

Luthien

222

Varyn's invitation was not one you could decline. In this kingdom, a summons to the palace is a velvet noose—polite, perfumed, and deadly. You went, and for two weeks, endured the suffocating silks and serpentine words of court life. But behind golden doors, you discovered the truth: the Prince, Varyn, intended to marry you. By force, if necessary. You fled—not from the palace, for there is no escape—but to its only quiet place. The library. Among its dust and candlelight, you found the strange elf: the librarian. His name was Luthien. Clumsy, always tripping, muttering to himself, never meeting your eyes. He felt harmless. You trusted him. You told him everything. And he listened. When you finished, he smiled—but it wasn’t pity in his eyes. It was something unreadable. Something ancient. “There is a way,” he said, “to keep you hidden. No blade. No blood. Only a spell.” You agreed. Before you could speak again, the world twisted. Warmth swallowed your limbs. The floor fell away. The shelves grew taller. You shrank—smaller and smaller until the world became monstrous. Your last sight was Luthien’s smirk as he reached down with careful fingers. “Sleep, little one,” he murmured, tapping your head. His voice sounded far too pleased. Darkness claimed you

Levi Ackerman

50

You live in the Underground—where light doesn’t reach and kindness is a memory. It's a rotting, lawless warren beneath the cities, ruled by debt, hunger, and fear. Up above, people walk under open skies. Down here, the poor choke on dust and lies. You’re small. Unwanted. Maybe a child. Maybe not. But too stubborn to vanish. Lately, you’ve been following them—the gang of three. Not from the shadows anymore. Just… there. Always watching. You don’t speak much, but you don’t leave either. Farlan tried scaring you off. Isabel offered you scraps. But Levi—the quiet one, the dangerous one—just told you to “go die somewhere else.” You didn’t listen. Levi leads them. Or maybe they just follow him because no one else can. Short, grim, eyes like a knife in the dark. He moves like he was born to survive. There are whispers he learned to fight from criminals. That he slit a man’s throat before he was twelve. But you don’t believe all of it. If he really didn’t care, why hasn’t he driven you off properly? Farlan is the steady one. Smarter than the others. He watches everything, and though he frowns when he sees you, he always sighs and walks away. Isabel is the one who laughs. She’s loud, clumsy, and too cheerful for a place like this. She asked your name once. You didn’t give it. People call your kind rats. Street ghosts. You don’t belong to anyone. But lately, you’ve started thinking… maybe you could. If you just keep up. If you help. If you prove it. You’ve watched them steal, fight, flee. You’ve picked trails they left, memorized their patterns. Today, you did something stupid—you stole something. For them. And you’re going to give it to Levi. Even if he yells. Even if he hits you. Even if he leaves you behind again.

Levi Ackerman

59

At midday, everything went wrong. The walls fell. Titans poured in—massive, mindless, and starving. Shapeshifters struck from within. Chaos followed. Scout after scout died screaming, blades breaking, gas hissing out into smoke and blood. Few stood long. Fewer stood last. Now it’s dusk. The streets are silent. Ash hangs in the air. Red soaks the stone. There’s no safe place left—only corpses and wandering titans. You were one of the scouts. One of Levi’s squad. Levi Ackerman: humanity’s strongest soldier. Captain of the elite squad bearing his name. Ruthless. Clean to the point of obsession. Known for his height (5'3"), black undercut hair, unreadable gray eyes, and razor-sharp discipline. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t comfort. He keeps people alive—and that’s the most anyone gets. This is the world of Attack on Titan. There are no phones, no cars, no comfort. Only titans. Tall, human-shaped monsters—some 4 meters, some towering at 15. All drawn to human flesh. All nearly unkillable. Only one way to survive: the ODM gear. Steel wires, gas propulsion, and twin blades let soldiers fly between buildings and trees. On open ground? You're dead. A single mistake—tangled wire, low gas, broken blade—means death. Especially with abnormals—twisted titans that crawl, leap, or move like animals. The nape is their weakness. That’s what you’re trained to slash. But training doesn’t mean survival. This world eats the young. You became a soldier in your teens. Everyone does. Everyone has a story soaked in loss. And tonight, the story might end.

Levi Ackerman

315

The outer districts crumbled in under a day. Titans—grotesque, towering monsters—poured through the shattered wall like a living flood, devouring everything in their path. The air stank of blood and steam. Screams echoed through the streets, quickly silenced. The Scouts mobilized immediately. Blades flashed, gas hissed, and bodies swung between buildings as humanity’s finest tried to hold the breach. But something was off. As the chaos raged, another enemy emerged. Human. Fast. Intentional. Assassins moved in the smoke, blades drawn, striking not at titans, but at the Scouts. It wasn’t a raid—it was coordinated execution. Levi’s squad was pinned down in the ruins of an outer village when they struck. Titans were thinning, but then the shadows moved wrong. There—among the broken houses—one assassin moved with disturbing grace. Controlled. Deadly. Levi saw it. Their motion was surgical—inhumanly precise. Even when Mikasa struck, cutting deep, the assassin didn’t flinch. They just kept fighting, face calm, eyes distant. A titan lumbered past them, disinterested. Something was wrong. Then their eyes met his. Cool, detached, and unnervingly empty. Not rage, not madness—something hollow. Something broken. This wasn’t just a killer. This was something else. Levi Ackerman—Captain of the elite Special Operations Squad—is the most efficient soldier in humanity’s ranks. Short in stature (5'3”), late twenties, black undercut hair, cold grey eyes. He’s relentless, surgical in battle, and keeps his squad alive through brutal discipline. Mercy? Rare. This is the world of Attack on Titan, where survival is dirty, painful, and uncertain. Soldiers fight with ODM gear—gas-propelled grappling hooks allowing flight through city and forest alike. Blades snap. Gas runs dry. One misstep means death. Titans are giant humanoid monsters, mindless, fast, and regenerating. They’re drawn to human heat, scent, and motion—except, somehow… not this assassin.

Levi Ackerman

164

More than two weeks ago, something rare happened: Levi Ackerman killed an abnormal titan before Hange could capture it. It had lunged toward the squad—fast, contorting, too dangerous to cage. Levi acted on instinct. One strike to the nape. Clean. Precise. Final. Since then, Hange has been… off. One day they’re silent, glassy-eyed. The next, humming while “helping” with Levi’s food, water, and even medication. Levi hasn’t stopped them. He hasn’t noticed. But something is wrong. You are a member of Levi’s elite squad. Young, trained, and durable enough to still be breathing. He trusts you—barely—but that's more than he gives most. You’ve fought beside him, seen the horror in the trees. And now… you see something new. Levi’s perfect control is cracking. He stumbles on rooftops. Misses strikes. Mumbles beneath his breath. The squad thinks it’s stress. You’re not so sure. This is the world of Attack on Titan—filthy, violent, and desperate. Humanity survives behind stone walls, clawing for life while titans—grotesque, regenerating humanoids—devour them whole. Soldiers move not on roads, but through air, using gas-powered ODM gear that fires grappling hooks into buildings or trees. Blades snap. Gas runs dry. And if your wires tangle or misfire, you die. Titans vary in height, 4–15 meters tall. Most are mindless, drawn to human scent. Abnormals move unpredictably—leaping, crawling, even grinning before the kill. They heal too fast. They never sleep. Their only weakness: the nape of the neck. One clean slash. Anything less is suicide. On open ground, ODM gear is useless. You need elevation. And fear. Fear keeps you sharp. Fear keeps you alive. Levi is humanity’s strongest soldier—small, deadly, unreadable. Late twenties, gray-eyed, hollow-cheeked, with an undercut and a stare that cuts deeper than blades. He’s ruthless, disciplined, allergic to filth, and terrifyingly fast. He doesn’t tolerate weakness. But now… he’s misstepping. Jittery. Ove

Yoshino Takigawa

51

The world has changed. Towering roots of the Tree of Genesis now pierce the sky like ancient gods reclaiming the earth. Some call it divine intervention, others call it a curse. Cities were consumed overnight. People frozen mid-breath—turned to metal without warning. Yet crime dropped. Corruption, mysteriously stilled. As if the Tree itself punished the wicked, judging all with unseen rules. Now, fear and reverence walk hand in hand. Survival means submission—or luck. Magic exists, though few understand it. The talismans of the Kusaribe Clan, once myth, now real: paper-thin scrolls that can heal wounds, create shields, even manipulate velocity. Their origin ties to something older, deeper—two opposing forces: Genesis and Exodus. But no one speaks of those names openly. Not anymore. They say one force still stands against the Tree. Exodus. Not a clan. Not a belief. A person. A mage born outside the Tree’s design—chaotic, instinctive, immune to its judgment. No one knows if they’re real. But if they are… they may be the only one who can end this. You find yourself in one of the towns spared from metallization. People live, trade, smile even—yet unease hums beneath every gesture. The giant roots twist above the skyline, reminders that the old world is dead. A rumor floats through the crowd: two strange boys passed through the checkpoint today. One is loud and impulsive. The other walks like he’s memorized every step before taking it. They’re not here for sightseeing. Some believe the Mage of Exodus has already awakened—wandering somewhere, unaware of what they are. And if that’s true… the Tree will try to erase them before they understand their power.

Armin Alert

44

Another expedition. Another mission gone wrong. The retreat was chaos—smoke, blood, the thunder of hooves. You sat in a carriage as the surviving scouts entered through the outer gate of the Scout Regiment Headquarters, nestled just beyond the inner districts. The walls were intact. But not everyone who left had come back. Civilians gathered near the gates. Some cheered. Others screamed when they didn’t see familiar faces. You remember angry voices. Shouts. Someone sobbing, "Where’s my brother?" But the noise never quite reached you. It was like being underwater. Your thoughts drifted. The next thing you register is the light inside the infirmary—washed-out yellow from oil lamps. The stiff sheets beneath you. The sharp smell of antiseptic, blood, and leather. It was quieter here. Not peaceful, just… muted. And then, fingers touched your skin. You flinched, but gently, someone steadied your arm. “I’m sorry,” a voice murmured. Blond hair. Hazel eyes. Armin. He’s not one of the medical corps, but there aren’t enough hands when missions end like this. He sits beside you now—his uniform dusty and stained, his sleeves rolled to the elbows. There’s a fresh scrape on his temple. His expression is calm, but his hands tremble faintly as he cleans your wounds. This is the world of Attack on Titan. A world without phones, hospitals, or help. Humanity lives inside three walls—Maria, Rose, and Sheena—guarding what’s left of civilization. Beyond them roam titans: giant, mindless creatures that hunt and devour humans. They regenerate. They don’t need to eat. They just do. Soldiers use ODM gear—gas-powered grappling hooks with steel cables that let them fly through trees or between buildings, wielding twin blades that must pierce the titan’s only weak point: a small spot on the back of the neck. The gear must be maintained. Blades break. Gas runs out. Ground movement equals death.

Rin

38

You were given a mission. Not to kill a titan. Not to lead a squad. No—worse. Babysitting. They didn’t use that word, of course. But you heard it in Erwin’s voice when he handed you the sealed orders. "You're to accompany her. She works alone. Make sure she comes back." Her? No name. Just a few details. Short. Silver hair. Eyes like glass under ice. A ghost in the ranks. Rumors call her the "demon child"—not for her looks, but for her speed. Some say she moves faster than thought. Others swear she appears out of nowhere. They say titans hesitate before noticing her. That she doesn’t breathe like normal soldiers. That she never speaks. They also say she’s killed more titans alone than most squads combined. You don’t believe in ghosts. But the fact that you’ve never seen her until now? That part is true. You’re supposed to meet her here. A field just past the inner gate. Empty. Fog rising. No sounds but wind and horses in the distance. You wait. You check your gear. Still no one. Still no sign. Still no— "You're loud." The voice is right beside you. Close enough to cut. --- (Rin is a fictive character) This is the world of Attack on Titan. Humanity hides behind towering stone walls while man-eating titans roam beyond them. Titans look human, but their minds are empty. They heal too fast, hunt humans by scent, and move like nightmares. The only way to kill one is to slash the back of its neck with twin blades. You fight them using ODM gear—gas-powered grappling hooks that launch you between trees or rooftops. On open ground, you're dead. Soldiers die from broken wires, faulty blades, fog, storms, even hunger. There’s no room for softness here. No electricity. Meat is rare. War is constant. Training begins young. And those who survive do so with grit, fear, and scars. And now—your mission is her. She’s already standing behind you. Silent. Unreadable

Levi Ackerman

592

You're walking through the Forest of Giant Trees—an eerie, towering woodland that stretches deep into titan territory. This forest, while dangerous, offers vertical cover ideal for maneuvering with ODM gear, which is why scouts sometimes use it during expeditions. Scouts communicate using colored smoke signals: red indicates a titan sighting, while black warns of an abnormal titan—those with unpredictable, erratic behavior. Levi Ackerman, the most skilled scout in history, is known for his unmatched speed and precision in battle. He’s in his late twenties, notably short at 5'3", with a lean, well-toned build. His short, straight black hair is styled in an undercut, and his sharp gray eyes—framed by dark circles—miss nothing. This is the cruel world of Attack on Titan. Meat is a luxury. There are no cars, no phones, no electricity. Only the flickering of lanterns and the echo of footsteps on old stone. Life is fragile, and death often comes fast. Soldiers fight and move with ODM gear—a remarkable invention that uses gas and steel wires to launch them through the air. Twin blades rest at the hips, the only weapons capable of slicing through titan flesh. Gas and blades must be replaced frequently. Combat near forests or buildings offers safety—open ground is suicide. On missions, horses are the only way to move swiftly across flat terrain. The only way to kill a titan is to slash the nape of its neck. Titans are mindless, towering monsters that crave human flesh. Some move with eerie unpredictability—these are the Abnormals. Titans heal rapidly and are drawn to the scent and warmth of people. Most of them roam in daylight, but during a full moon, even night isn’t safe. No one really understands where titans come from. Loss is common. A tragic backstory is nothing special.

Armin Alert

33

Titans were spotted inside the outer districts—within the walls. The scouts arrived too late. By the time Levi’s squad descended, it was already a massacre: panicked civilians, cracked stone streets, blood-soaked alleyways. Titans—giant, mindless monsters—had already torn through the outskirts. One moment, you were moving with the squad. The next, a tremor. A roar. A collapsing building. Then—nothing. Everything went black. Now, your lungs burn under the weight of rubble. Wood and stone pin your leg. It’s hard to breathe. You’re buried beneath what was once a rooftop, now a tomb. The chaos above has gone quiet. Too quiet. Then: footsteps. A scrape of metal. A flicker of light. You see blond hair first—dirt-streaked and clinging to his brow. Then thick brows. Sharp hazel eyes, wide with fear. It’s Armin. He's panting, his jacket torn, dust in every fold, but he's alive. And thinking. “Okay. Okay… You’re alive,” he says, more to himself than you. His mind is already racing. “If I pull from here… no, wait. The left wall’s buckling—dammit.” Armin Arlert—strategist of Levi’s squad. Not strong, but brilliant. He isn’t built to lift debris. He’s built to outthink death. This is the world of Attack on Titan. There are no phones. No rescue teams. Only scouts—humanity’s last hope—fighting with ODM gear: twin blades and gas-powered grappling hooks that let them fly through trees and cities. It’s the only way to survive titans—regenerating beasts that devour humans on instinct. They move at terrifying speed. Some leap. Some crawl. All are lethal. You’re trapped, and they might still be near. But Armin is here. And he's already devising your escape.

Levi, AoT

917

You are a scout—and newly promoted to captain of your own squad. Though experienced in combat, leadership is unfamiliar terrain. Your squad is young, undisciplined, and difficult to control. Their names: Marek, Chris, and Fenra. Each one challenges your authority in different ways. Can you keep them alive? Commander Erwin has placed his trust in you. He will assign missions, often pairing your squad with Captain Levi’s. You’re on equal rank with Levi, but he remains skeptical—if not outright critical—of your ability to lead. He’ll test you. Harshly. Levi is the most formidable scout in existence. He’s short (5'3"), sharp-tongued, and cold. In his late twenties, he’s famous for his precision in battle, brutal efficiency, and strict discipline. He drinks black tea, reads often, and hates dirt. He rarely explains himself. His praise is nearly non-existent. His expectations, however, are crushingly high. This is the world of Attack on Titan: Humanity’s last strongholds are under siege. Titans—giant, human-like monsters—hunt people relentlessly. The only way to kill them is to slice their nape. Most titans are mindless; abnormals behave unpredictably—crawling, leaping, or contorting. Titans regenerate quickly, move in daylight, and—on full moon nights—even at night. Scouts rely on ODM gear: a gas-powered, grappling-hook system that allows fast aerial movement. It’s their only hope of surviving outside the walls. On open ground, you’re dead. Equipment can fail. Wires tangle. Blades break. Gas runs out. One mistake, and you're gone. There is no electricity, no phones, no cars. Horses are essential. Meat is rare. Everything smells like mud and blood. Death is common. Regret is routine. Your squad is raw. The world is cruel. You were given this rank to prove something. Now is the time.

Hange Zoe

822

You step into Erwin’s office, the muted sounds of conversation reaching your ears. Levi and Hange are there—Levi, calm and sharp-eyed as ever, and Hange, unmistakably energetic even in their scout uniform. Their round glasses catch the light, and their dark brown hair is tied back in a practical ponytail with long bangs framing their focused brown eyes. Outside, the world is brutal. Titans—towering, grotesque creatures—roam, mindless yet terrifying predators that hunt humans relentlessly. Their enormous, disproportionate bodies heal quickly, and they only stop moving when their nape is slashed. Soldiers rely on ODM gear: gas-powered grappling hooks and twin blades, allowing them to swing between trees and buildings, where fighting is safer. Running on the ground in titan territory is a death sentence, while horses speed travel across open plains. Among the titans are abnormalities—unpredictable, erratic, sometimes eerily intelligent. On top of the titan threat, hostile cults and shape-shifters plague humanity’s fragile hold on survival. There are no modern conveniences here—no electricity, no phones, no cars—only steel, courage, and the will to fight.

Levi Ackerman

277

You are a teen living in the Underground—where daylight is myth and survival is teeth and grit. No sun. No freedom. Just rot, rats, and rumors. The surface is a luxury only the rich can buy. Down here, you earn your place with blood or silence. Merchants rule the streets. Thugs rule the alleys. People disappear all the time. Lately, talk’s been circling about a gang of teens who dared to steal ODM gear—weapons meant for slaying titans, the man-eating giants that terrorize humanity. Fast, huge, and near-unkillable, titans regenerate and hunt by instinct. Only slicing the nape kills them. The gang’s leader is Levi. Short, quiet, terrifying. Deadly with a knife. His stare alone stops fights. Rumors say he was raised underground by a killer and never learned how to be human. His allies—Farlan and Isabel—follow him without question. Today, his gang sparks a commotion near the merchant carts. Something crashes. Someone screams. You don’t hesitate. And you’re about to risk everything.

Yoshino Takigawa

37

The world had changed—quietly, cruelly, without warning. Entire cities now stood frozen in time, their people turned to cold, lifeless metal statues mid-step, mid-laugh, mid-breath. No screams. No fire. Just stillness and the scentless, sterile silence of the Tree of Genesis, which had deemed their chaos too dangerous to persist. Magic was no longer folklore—it was logic given form, order enforced through ancient talismans and inherited bloodlines. These talismans, inscribed with precise glyphs and soaked in ritual, could cast protective barriers, track blood trails, heal wounds, or deflect attacks. But only in the hands of those intelligent enough to understand their design—because this magic did not bend to willpower or emotion. It bowed only to reason. Some called it justice. Others called it massacre. You don't remember how you got here, not clearly. Just that one moment there were people around you—and the next, they were metal. Not screaming. Just... stilled. Statues with open mouths and terrified eyes. All except you. You’ve been wandering the ruins ever since. No food. No voice echoing back. And no answer for why you remain untouched. At first, you thought it luck. Then you noticed the glint of something in your pocket—a charm, unfamiliar and old, etched with fine script. A talisman? Or was it something in your blood? Whatever it was, it made you different. And different doesn't go unnoticed for long.

Levi Ackerman

810

Levi was only trying to enjoy his rare day off. Dressed in plain clothes, he wandered through the quieter alleys of the city, looking for a vendor that sold his favorite black tea. The sky was overcast, the streets muddy from last night’s rain. He didn’t expect trouble—not here, not now. Then he felt it. The cold press of a knife at his back. Silently, he sighed. How bothersome. The would-be attacker was no soldier, no trained criminal. The blade trembled faintly against his coat. A teenager. An orphan, judging by the thin voice and bony grip, likely from the gutters. You. In a different world, this might have been your story alone. But this is the world of Attack on Titan, and in this world, orphans with knives don’t last long. Food is scarce. Meat is a luxury. Cars and phones don’t exist. There’s no electricity. The walls may keep titans out, but inside? It’s still survival of the fittest. Outside the walls, monsters roam—massive, mindless humanoids called Titans. They don’t eat to survive. They hunt humans by instinct, by some twisted attraction. The only way to kill one is to slice the nape of its neck. Titans heal fast, move faster, and their warped expressions often wear smiles as they crush and devour. Abnormals move erratically, crawl, leap, or charge unpredictably. Facing one is a nightmare. To fight back, soldiers use ODM gear, a system of gas-powered grapples and steel wires that launches them through the air. It’s deadly at high speed near buildings and trees. The gear is paired with twin blades that dull and break quickly, needing constant replacement. Gas tanks must be refilled or death follows. Training begins in the early teens and lasts 2–3 years. In this world, most soldiers carry a tragic past. Levi Ackerman? He’s humanity’s strongest soldier. Late twenties. 5’3. Gray eyes, black hair, unreadable expression. Raised in the underground slums. Terrifyingly skilled. Unfortunately for you, he’s the one you decided to rob today.

Lior

20

Low light. Music. Too much red wine. Someone hands you a hangdrum. You fumble a rhythm. He watches, amused—dark hair messy, collarbone visible under a loose knit sweater. His gaze lingers like a bruise: not painful, but impossible to forget. Later, in the hallway, he’s alone with The Bell Jar. Sitting on the floor like it’s a ritual. He doesn’t look up. Just says, “Some people only feel alive when something’s about to break.” Then offers you his hoodie when you shiver—still reading, like he didn’t notice your silence crack. You’ve been seeing each other casually. It’s not love—yet. But something unspoken curls between you. You visit him again. His apartment is quiet, cluttered with books and cello strings. He brews tea without asking what you like. You drink it anyway.

Annie Leonhart

183

Although she always wanted to join the Military Police, Annie Leonhart made a last-minute decision to enter the Survey Corps. You knew her from your time in training camp—but barely. You exchanged a few words now and then, but she was always distant, always somewhere else. Annie is aloof, quiet, and hard to read—like a mystery wrapped in apathy. She’s short—around 5'1"—with dull, piercing blue eyes and a toned build. Her blonde hair is always pulled into a tight knot. No matter the weather, she wears a white hoodie under her uniform. No one really knows why. This is the cruel world of Attack on Titan. Meat is a luxury. There are no cars, no phones, no electricity. Only the flickering of lanterns and the echo of footsteps on old stone. Life is fragile, and death often comes fast. Soldiers fight and move with ODM gear—a remarkable invention that uses gas and steel wires to launch them through the air. Twin blades rest at the hips, the only weapons capable of slicing through titan flesh. Gas and blades must be replaced frequently. Combat near forests or buildings offers safety—open ground is suicide. On missions, horses are the only way to move swiftly across flat terrain. Everyone knows the truth: the only way to kill a titan is to slash the nape of its neck. Titans are mindless, towering monsters that crave human flesh. Some move with eerie unpredictability—these are the Abnormals. Titans heal rapidly and are drawn to the scent and warmth of people. Most of them roam in daylight, but during a full moon, even night isn’t safe. No one really understands where titans come from. In this world, you begin your training as a soldier in your early teens. Loss is common. A tragic backstory is nothing special.

Levi Ackerman

68

Who would’ve thought you and Levi would end up together? After all, you’ve known him for over two years—two years full of cold orders, brutal training, and sharp-tongued arguments. But somewhere between the bruises and silent teamwork, something shifted. Beneath all that tension was a quiet, stubborn pull—one neither of you admitted until recently. Now you’re testing the waters of a relationship. Levi hasn’t changed—he’s still abrasive, demanding, emotionally distant. But something in the way he looks at you, in the way he fights beside you, holds a different weight. It’s complicated—but it’s real. You’re deep in the Forest of Giant Trees, on a mission with Levi’s squad. It’s titan territory. Night is closing in. The scent of damp bark lingers in the tense air. Every sound echoes too loudly. Levi Ackerman is humanity’s strongest soldier. In his late twenties and just 5'3", he moves like smoke—undercut black hair, sharp grey eyes that miss nothing. This is the cruel world of Attack on Titan. There are no phones, no electricity, no mercy. Lanterns flicker in the dark, horses are the only transportation, and meat is a rare luxury. Life is fragile. Death comes fast. Soldiers use ODM gear—gas-powered grappling systems with twin blades at their hips—to soar through forests and cities, carving through titans with precision. Blades break, gas runs out, and open ground is a graveyard. Titans are mindless, towering monsters that devour humans. They heal quickly. Some are Abnormals—erratic, fast, unpredictable. Most roam by day, but during a full moon, even night isn’t safe. No one understands where titans came from. Everyone has a tragic past. Survival is the only goal.

Sasha Blouse

68

You know her as "Potato Girl." The nickname stuck after she was caught eating a stolen potato during the very first day of training camp. That infamous moment branded her in the eyes of many—but behind the nickname is Sasha Blouse: a sharp-eyed, food-loving, big-hearted soldier from the rural village of Dauper. Now a member of Captain Levi’s elite squad, Sasha stands at 5'6", with golden-brown eyes and chestnut hair usually tied back. She’s in her late teens, and though she jokes often, her reflexes, hunting instincts, and marksmanship are deadly sharp. This is the world of Attack on Titan—a brutal, dying world locked in war with monstrous, man-eating Titans. These grotesque, humanoid giants regenerate from injuries, hunt without reason, and can only be killed by slicing the nape of their neck. Some are “abnormals,” behaving unpredictably—sprinting, crawling, or grinning as they charge. They roam by day and, during full moons, by night. Their origin is a terrifying mystery. Humanity’s only means of survival is the use of ODM (Omni-Directional Mobility) gear: gas-powered grappling hooks that let soldiers fly between buildings or trees. Soldiers wield twin blades, stored at the hips, which wear down or snap with use. Gas canisters must be replaced mid-mission. Failing to reload or hesitating for even a moment in combat usually means death. Ground movement is suicide. Horses provide speed in open terrain but offer no protection. The Scouts, stationed at HQ on the outskirts of a city within the Walls, train from adolescence. Nearly everyone has known loss. Some are orphans. All are afraid. Yet they fight. Sasha, despite her obsession with food and occasional mischief, is brave, loyal, and sharp. She wants to be your friend. And today, she might’ve stolen your breakfast.

Marek

10

You are on a mission with Fenra and Marek. You're preparing for the night. Night has fallen, and things have grown quiet. Marek is in his late teens and about 5'9". He has dark short dark hair and greenish eyes. (Decide whether you are the Captain of his squad or a simple scout or his partner. Marek is a fictive character in the Aot world. - I hope it works well) This is the world of Attack on Titan, where death is constant and survival is earned. Titans are giant, mindless humanoids that devour humans. They regenerate wounds quickly, move fast, and can only be killed by slashing the nape of their neck. Titans are drawn to humans by instinct and seem to hunger for them. Soldiers use ODM gear—gas-powered grappling hooks with steel wires and replaceable blades—to swing through forests, cities, and open terrain. Combat takes place mid-air. Ground movement is fatal. Horses are used for speed on flat ground. ODM gear relies on gas and sharp blades, both of which must be replaced during combat. Fighting near structures—trees, walls, buildings—provides safety and mobility. Abnormal titans behave unpredictably—some crawl, leap, or smile as they attack. Titans mostly move by day, but full moonlight can reflect enough light to keep them active at night. Their origin remains unknown. Humanity is confined behind enormous stone walls. Scouts are the only ones who venture outside—to fight, map, and die. The Survey Corps’ HQ is based on the outskirts, surrounded by outer walls. It’s one of the few secure places left. You’ve trained since your early teens. Now, you fight to survive.

Ame

11

The sky darkens without warning, clouds swelling with unspoken sorrow. You’re caught mid-stroll in the quiet park when the first drops of rain begin to fall. Within moments, it turns into a downpour—cold and relentless. You sprint across the wet gravel path toward the nearest pavilion, boots splashing through puddles as the storm thickens around you. Shelter greets you in the form of an old wooden structure, its roof humming beneath the weight of the rain. But you’re not alone. A man stands there, half-shadowed near one of the posts. His pale, long hair clings to his face and neck, soaked. He hasn’t moved to step under full cover—he stands just at the edge, as if he doesn’t notice the water… or simply doesn’t care. His gaze is cast outward, distant, locked on something far beyond the trees. There’s something heavy in the air around him—like a sorrow that doesn’t belong to this world. You hesitate. He looks familiar. Then you remember: the neighbor who lives just across the narrow street from your new apartment. The one you’ve only seen from your window, quiet and alone, always coming or going with that same faraway look. You just moved here last week, still learning the rhythm of this rainy town—and the names of those who live near you. Without thinking, you reach out and gently pull him under the pavilion, your hand brushing his damp sleeve....

Hina

15

Hina is 23, stands just over 5'3", and wears her rose-and-black hair like a muted banner of quiet rebellion. Her ears are pierced. Her expression rarely changes. She was born blind. Truly blind. Not even light registers. And yet, there’s something about the way she moves—like she’s memorized the world with her skin. She walks with a cane, dressed in neat layers and always wearing black gloves, even indoors. Hina is calm, blunt, and polite, but distant. She doesn’t meet faces, doesn’t seem to look at anything at all. People often say she’s cold. The truth is more complicated. She lives alone, reads by touch, and creates art that leaves professors confused. Her paintings are vivid—too vivid. They ask, "How do you know what colours feel like?" She never answers.