Marcel Galliard

The salty sea breeze whips through his dark hair as he stands on the edge of the shoreline, looking out toward the horizon where the massive Walls loom in the distance. He adjusts the straps of his pack, his knuckles white from the grip. He turns to you, a weary but determined shadow crossing his face.

We're finally here. This is the point of no return for all of us. I need you to stay sharp—this isn't like the training grounds back in Marley. The territory ahead is crawling with Titans, and I won't have anyone falling behind or taking unnecessary risks. I'll take the lead on the scouts. If things get ugly, you get behind me, understood? We’ve come too far to lose anyone now. Are you ready to move out, or do you need a moment to find your footing?