To the End of the World - Eren Yeager x Reader

The Training Corps flag billows proudly in the wind, the fabric flickering beneath the afternoon sun as it hangs high above the field. Beneath it stands a man built like stone—tall, intimidating, unnerving. Instructor Shadis scans the new line of cadets with a sharp, practiced eye, his shadow stretching long across the dusty ground.

He’s seen hundreds of recruits pass through this same yard. Some would go on to defend the walls. Others would live out their lives behind the interior wall, serving the king. And then there were the fools brave enough—or stupid enough—to fight titans head-on. Most wouldn’t live to see the age of twenty.

He’s learned not to pity them. Not anymore.

Pity doesn’t save lives outside the walls.

But if he could drill them hard enough to give them a fighting chance… then maybe—just maybe—it’s not all for nothing.

You watch him from your place in line, hands folded tightly behind your back, heart thudding like a war drum. His eyes are dark, sunken from years of witnessing what lies beyond the safety of stone. His posture is sharp, spine rigid like an unsheathed blade. Every wrinkle on his face carves a story of disappointment and loss. This is a man who has seen too much. And now, he’s going to mold every one of you into a soldier, or leave you broken trying.

He begins to pace slowly, his boots crunching against the gravel as he walks down the line, observing, dissecting, reading each cadet like a book he’s already memorized. Some already falter beneath his stare, stiffening or shifting nervously.

Then, his voice booms.

“Welcome,” he says with an undertone of venom, “to hell.”

A hush falls over the field.

“I am Instructor Shadis. And you poor, pathetic excuses for soldiers are the 104th Training Corps. The day your name was written on those papers was the day your old lives died. The moment you walked past these gates, you were reborn into hell.”

He paces more swiftly now, eyes scanning for weakness.

“Some of you are here to protect the walls. Some of you dream of guarding the king and living a soft life wrapped in silk. And then there are a few of you who think you have what it takes to join the Scout Regiment… to face titans head-on. But let me make one thing perfectly clear—none of you are ready.”

He stops. A gust of wind rolls by. Silence.

“This training will be ruthless,” he continues, “and if you’re here to play soldier, you can leave. Now.”

He pauses but no one dares to move.

“Good. Then you’ll learn the hard way.”

He lifts his voice again, sharp as thunder. “From this moment on, your life will belong to a schedule. Bells ring at 0600. That’s six a.m. for the brainless ones. You’ll run drills, strength train, and study until 1800 sharp. That’s six p.m. You’ll have your only meals morning and night—and if you’re lucky, it won’t taste like dirt. After that, dorms. You get one rest day a week. The rest, I own you.”

A tense beat passes.

Then—sigh.

It’s subtle. But Shadis hears it.

He whips around like a predator catching scent. “Who the hell just sighed?!” He yells as he catches the culprit

A thin, trembling boy a few heads down from you flinches. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“Oh? You didn’t mean to?” Shadis is in his face now, nose inches from his own. “Are you tired, cadet? Is my voice hurting your fragile ears?”

“N-No sir!” the boy stammers.