Wonka City! Central District Ruins!
Willy Tybur lay motionless among the debris, his body a canvas of injuries. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking into the dust and rubble of what once was the majestic Summoner Tower. His eyes, clouded with pain and confusion, fixed on the stump where his right hand should have been. Steam rose from the wound as flesh, bone, and sinew gradually regenerated at an agonizingly slow pace. The regeneration process, one that normally was supposed to be rapid, had slowed to a crawl.
He tried to move but found his strength utterly depleted. The transformation and subsequent creation of the crystal structure had drained every reserve of energy from his body. Even breathing felt like a monumental task, each inhalation sending sharp pains through his shattered ribs.
'Where am I?' he thought, his mind racing despite his physical immobility. 'This isn't Marley. This isn't Paradis either. The architecture, the sky color, even the scent in the air feels different.'
The memories came in disjointed flashes – his speech at Liberio, the Attack Titan erupting from beneath the stage, the crushing pain as its fist closed around him. Then darkness, followed by strange robed figures surrounding him, chanting in a language he'd never heard before.
'Am I dead? Is this some form of afterlife?' Willy questioned, but the pain coursing through his body felt far too real. 'No, this is tangible. Physical. But if not death, then what? Another world entirely?'
The concept seemed absurd, yet he could find no other explanation for his surroundings or circumstances. The evidence suggested the impossible had occurred – he had somehow crossed between worlds.
With tremendous effort, Willy turned his head slightly, his gaze falling upon the colossal structure rising from the center of the destruction. A crystalline tree reaching 200 meters into the sky, each branch terminating in a deadly point that had impaled monstrous creatures. The tree glistened in the sunlight, casting prismatic reflections across the ruined cityscape.
'The Warhammer Titan's power,' he thought, awe and terror mingling in his mind. 'But that's impossible. Lara was the holder, not me.'
He remembered the moment clearly – the Attack Titan consuming him, exactly as he and his sister had planned. His role as a decoy had succeeded. Eren Yeager should have been contained using the Warhammer Titan's power by Lara, who had been concealed within the crystal beneath the stage. Yet here he was, somehow possessing the very power he had never held in his previous life.
'Did something go wrong? Did Lara somehow transfer the power to me? It doesn't conform to any rhyme or reason.' The questions swirled in his mind, but answers remained elusive. 'Or perhaps... perhaps this is a second chance? An opportunity to atone for the sins of my family?'
The crystal tree stood as evidence of power he barely grasped, practically, power he had wielded in a moment of confused rage. The destruction surrounding him – an entire tower collapsed, countless lives lost – weighed heavily on his conscience.
'I need to learn control,' he resolved. 'I need to understand this world and my place in it.'
His contemplation was shattered by screams that pierced the air from the southern edge of the city. The few surviving Summoners who had begun to extract themselves from the rubble froze, their faces paling at the familiar sound of terror.
"The Zergs!" shouted a young mage, his robes torn and bloodied. "They've breached the southern wall!"
From his position, Willy could see the inhabitants of Wonka City fleeing in panic through the streets. Mothers clutched children to their breasts, the elderly were helped along by younger relatives, and guards attempted to maintain order while retreating toward the northern districts.
At the city's southern wall, a desperate last stand was unfolding. Thirty-seven Summoners – all that remained of the external defensive force – formed a line along the partially collapsed fortification. Their hands moved in intricate patterns as they summoned what creatures they could muster.
Force Magic--Double Push!
A middle-aged Summoner with a gash across his forehead activated two magic circles, sending a cluster of olive-green creatures flying backwards. But for every Zerg repelled, three more took their place, scaling the walls with disturbing agility.
Summoning Magic—Chimaera!
A female mage conjured a massive chimaera with scales instead of fur. The beast leapt into the advancing horde, tearing apart two Grunts before being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Five Zergs pinned it down while a sixth tore out its throat, causing the summoned creature to dissolve into mana particles.
"Retreat to the Northern District!" shouted the commander of the wall defence. "We cannot hold on any longer!"
The defensive line crumbled in moments. Mages who had depleted their mana reserves found themselves defenceless as the Grunts swarmed over the wall. Those who attempted to flee were pursued with ruthless efficiency, the Zergs' superior speed making escape impossible.
A four-circle Water Mage created a barrier of liquid that briefly halted the advance, but the Grunts simply climbed the nearby buildings and descended behind the defenders. Within minutes, the southern quarter of Wonka City had fallen.
In the merchant district, civilians who had been unable to evacuate huddled in homes and shops, barricading doors and windows in futile attempts at protection. A middle-aged woman clutching a pendant emerged from a baker's shop, desperately searching for her husband who had gone to help the neighbours.
"Marten!" she called, her voice trembling. "Marten, where are—"
Her words died in her throat as a Grunt rounded the corner, its mandibles clicking in excitement at the detection of prey. The woman froze, pendant slipping from her fingers to clatter on the cobblestones. The Zerg moved with terrible swiftness, covering the 15-meter distance in less than a second. Its jaws opened wide, revealing rows of serrated teeth that closed around her head with a sickening crunch.
"IRINA!" A man's voice bellowed in anguish.
Marten, a sturdy man of fifty years with calloused hands from decades of carpentry, charged forward with nothing but a wooden rod. His face contorted with rage and grief as he swung the improvised weapon at the creature feasting on his wife's remains.
The rod bounced harmlessly off the Grunt's exoskeleton, not even causing the creature to flinch. It turned slowly, almost curiously, tilting its insect-like head as it assessed this new threat. Marten hiccupped in fear as he realized the futility of his attack, but stood his ground nonetheless.
"Monster," he spat, raising the rod for another strike.
The Grunt seized his left arm in one claw and his right leg in another. With mechanical precision, it pulled in opposite directions. Marten's scream echoed briefly before being cut short as the Zerg systematically tore him limb from limb, discarding the pieces like garbage once it confirmed the prey was dead.
Throughout the city, the scene repeated itself in hundreds of variations. A child hiding beneath a cart was dragged out by its ankles. An elderly couple embracing in their final moments were torn apart simultaneously by two Grunts working in perfect coordination. A group of city guards forming a defensive circle was overwhelmed by a wave of exoskeletons and clicking mandibles.
The surviving Summoners, their numbers reduced to fewer than twenty, retreated toward the central district where the crystal tree stood as a beacon. They summoned what creatures they could – wolves made of scales, eagles with serpent heads, bears with metallic skin – but each summon required mana, and their reserves were nearly depleted.
"We must reach the northern gate!" shouted Volmar, one of the few Elder Summoners still alive. "If we can escape to the neighbouring territories, the Light Tower mages might offer sanctuary!"
But their path was cut off by a fresh wave of Grunts approaching from the eastern quarter. The Zergs had circled the city with frightening coordination, blocking all routes of escape. The surviving humans found themselves driven toward the central district, toward the ruins of the Summoner Tower and the crystal tree that had emerged from it.
A Grunt, larger than its brethren at nearly 2.5 meters tall, scaled the mountain of rubble surrounding the tree's base. Its sensory organs detected the presence of living prey—the injured human lying helpless at the base of the crystal structure. With predatory efficiency, it analysed the target: severely wounded, minimal threat, optimal nutritional value.
The Grunt leapt, covering the 10-meter distance in a single bound, its claws extended to seize the helpless human. Its mandibles opened wide, ready to deliver the killing bite to Willy Tybur's exposed throat.
'Move!' Willy commanded his body, but his limbs refused to respond, regeneration still incomplete. 'MOVE!'