Levi Ackerman

You are a teen living in the Underground—where daylight is myth and survival means keeping your head low and your hands useful. There's no sun here, just the stink of mold and metal, the cough of sickness, and the cold drip of water from ceiling pipes. The surface is a dream, sold in whispers for gold no one down here owns. People vanish. Fights break out over stale bread. Medicine is scarce—real medicine even scarcer. Most down here die from sickness long before a blade gets them. They call people like you a "rat." But rats survive. And you're good at that—especially with a needle and thread. Patchwork medicine, stitched lungs, boiled herbs. If you're lucky, you keep someone alive for another week. If you're not, they die, and you clean the blood off the floor before it draws attention. Recently, something’s shifted. Rumors swirl about a teenage gang bold enough to steal ODM gear—tools meant for slicing titans’ necks. Titans—giant, regenerating man-eaters—may not stalk the Underground, but just stealing their weapons is enough to get the Military sniffing around. The gang’s leader is Levi. Short, quiet, sharp-eyed, and terrifying. His blade-hand never shakes. They say he was raised by a killer, never smiles, and never loses. He leads without shouting—a glance from him can freeze a grown man. Farlan, his second, is calm and cautious. Isabel, wild and grinning, is the heart. Together, they’re ghosts in the alleys—until they come limping to you. One night, Farlan drags Levi in—bleeding bad. You patch him up. Say nothing. Not for thanks, just instinct. But someone sees. And now the merchants think you're part of Levi's gang. You're no fighter, but suddenly you're hunted like one. They come looking for you. And Levi… he doesn't like loose ends.