Crack!
Levi's blade snapped, the recoil flinging him through the air.
In midair, he fixed on a subtle shift at the War Hammer's nape: a strange crystalline sheath had sealed it completely.
The crystal was absurdly hard; even the specially refined wall-forged steel couldn't cut it.
Even with Levi's full strength, he left only the faintest scratch—no real damage, not even a sliver of threat.
"Tch. Hiding in there, huh?"
Scowling at the War Hammer, Levi squeezed the triggers, fired his grapples, and yanked himself away, dropping beside Roger.
"Hey, monster kid—what is that thing's deal?"
"Long story. For now, all you need to know is it's a sentient Titan that can create weapons and tools at will. Combat IQ isn't high, but its Titan power is brutal," Roger said, brisk and rough.
"Heh. Are all the monsters outside the Walls like this?"
"No. Only nine. This one is second in combat power among the Nine," Roger replied.
"Where's number one?"
Levi shot Roger a glance.
Roger shot one back.
"Who knows." Roger shrugged. "This War Hammer's probably here to take my head for someone else. Levi, you're a born fighter, and you can lead. If I die, the Scorpio Corps is yours—disband it or run it as you like."
"…" Levi stared at him a long moment—the battle-torn rags, the scuffed skin—something unreadable flickered in his eyes. "No thanks."
He turned away. "You think you get to die that easy? You built that underworld outfit with your own hands, bastard. If someone wants justice, you carry the sins. I don't care if you're some monster or some spy kid—you think you get a clean exit? I, Levi, am the first to refuse."
He snapped a fresh blade into place, fired his Rittai Kidō Sōchi (ODM gear), and shot skyward.
"Levi!" Roger called after him, but he couldn't call this unruly subordinate back.
No choice. To keep Levi from charging in alone, Roger hauled his drained body up, ready to join the fight.
But before he could move, a hand dropped onto his shoulder.
"Boss. Rest." Tours said, wearing a steady, reliable smile.
Behind him stood the Scorpio Corps. Chaos raged everywhere, yet they were barely scraped, full of fight, ready to die if they had to.
The same couldn't be said for the three regiments; casualties were already more than half, the line close to collapse.
Erwin hurried in from afar, intent on aiding this temporary "ally"—and prying what intel he could from the snow-white giant.
On his orders, every veteran who'd spent themselves against the hundred-meter Titan was pulled from the field and sent to safety.
Left at the front were raw recruits and cadets.
As a squad leader, Oluo had piled up experience through many Titan fights. He wasn't the tongue-biting crybaby he'd been.
He arrived at the cadets' position.
Cadets had no business at the front. They should've been in the rear with the Military Police and the Garrison, shepherding refugees.
But something in their heads had slipped—they'd marched to the front and reached the wall.
Without a veteran to command and lead them, disaster would follow—pointless non-combat losses.
Oluo had come to command them, to direct support for the three regiments' main force.
But one kid kept talking back—refusing to stand down and watch.
Eren Yeager.
A loudmouthed cadet with "freedom" and "dedicate your hearts" on his lips, Eren hated Oluo's support orders.
"Soldiers are supposed to fight! The enemy's right in front of us and we're all in top shape—why should we just watch?! Captain, let us at them! That white Titan is the enemy, right? With our numbers we can take it down!"
"Ha?" Oluo cut him a sideways look. "A soldier's first duty is to obey. Keep yapping and I'll cut your tong—"
Clack.
He bit his tongue mid-sentence again. Tears sprang to his eyes.
"Captain!"
Eren kept pressing his case.
Beside him, Mikasa and Armin tried to hold him back.
They knew the white Titan had to go—but Eren (and they) weren't going to help with that.
That white Titan could casually raise a ladder of spikes straight to the top of a fifty-meter wall. With an enemy like that, Armin felt they simply didn't have enough information to fight.
Eren didn't listen. He felt compelled to help the small Titan-shifter—the one who'd killed the hundred-meter giant—even if he didn't know whether that man was friend or foe.
Civil war, devils devouring each other—whatever. From Oluo's comments, Eren felt the small Titan was the perfect human-aligned target to win over.
Whatever it took, they needed truth from his mouth. That would be worth more than a hundred or a thousand Survey expeditions.
But now, that man was in real danger.
The white Titan clearly had the edge. Its long-handled hammer was about to come down.
At that moment, Levi was fearlessly trading blows, carving and circling the War Hammer—and he'd already cut one Achilles tendon, throwing its balance off.
Erwin, with the Corps' remnants, watched like a patient hawk, eyes cool, mind working.
Inside the Walls, the people stared, recording history with their eyes—the kind that burns itself into human memory.
Levi was a heartbeat from stripping every bit of meat from the War Hammer's nape and the flesh around it—
Just then, the War Hammer seemed to rally. It reached for Levi.
Levi spun midair and neatly severed its fingers.
But its wrist twisted strangely—then a white light bloomed in its palm.
A spear?
A sword?
Roger's gut tightened.
And the next second proved him right.
Light vanished.
Not a spear. Not a sword.
A net.
"?!"
Levi reacted instantly—fired his grapples to rip free.
But the net wove faster than the lines flew. It enveloped him and slammed him to the ground.
With a snap into Kōka (Hardening), the net became a cage—locking him in place.
Shing!!
Levi threw everything into the cut—and snapped his last blade. The cage didn't budge.
"Tch. Laying it on thick, aren't you."
He cursed, tossing the broken steel aside. His fingers, numbed by the backlash of striking something that hard, trembled nonstop.
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