The nightmare came without warning.
In the middle of slumber, as if snatched from a dream into a pit of terror, countless innocents never even opened their eyes before being devoured.
…
"Carla! Wake up! Wake up!"
The banging on the door shattered the quiet of the house.
Zeke's eyes snapped open instantly. Even while sleeping, his instincts as a soldier never dulled; the faintest noise could jolt him awake. But this time, something was off. The bed beneath him trembled. The floor shuddered. The walls creaked as if about to split apart.
An earthquake?
No—the sound outside was wrong. Shrieks, frantic footsteps, people running past the windows, faces twisted with pure terror.
Zeke turned, ready to rouse the others, but the sight froze him. Reiner and Bertolt's bedding was empty. Only Eren remained, sitting up sluggishly, rubbing his eyes like a child resisting dawn.
And there, beside him—
A gun.
Zeke's heart clenched. That weapon had no place here. Eren couldn't possibly keep it with him while sharing a room.
That could only mean one thing: someone had deliberately placed it beside him.
He reached for it. The weight was wrong. The magazine was full.
Impossible.
He remembered it—there had been only one bullet left. Someone had lied to the Survey Corps. Clever, but dangerous.
Zeke's unease deepened. A fully loaded anti-Titan rifle appearing in the middle of the night was never a good omen. Before he could think further, the bedroom door slammed open.
A soldier burst in—not wearing the Wings of Freedom, but the crest of two roses. The Garrison Regiment.
What was the Garrison doing here at this hour?
The soldier froze at the sight of Zeke. "Carula! Why is there a strange man in your house? And he's wearing Grisha's clothes?!"
"He's… he's just a relative's child—"
"Child? He looks older than you!"
Zeke ground his teeth. What an irritating fool. The panic outside was escalating, and this man wasted time arguing.
"Enough nonsense! Tell me—what's happening out there?"
The Garrison soldier blinked, then as if remembering why he had come, rushed forward. He scooped Eren into his arms, shouting, "Run! The Titans have breached Shiganshina! Carla, grab Mikasa and go!"
The words struck like thunder.
Titans—inside the Walls.
For a hundred years, humanity had lived in fragile peace, lulled into believing the nightmare had ended.
Tonight, it returned.
But Zeke… Zeke was the most stunned of all.
This wasn't right. He knew the timeline. In his "previous life," Reiner and the others had landed on Paradis on March 10th. They spent a week searching for Wall Maria before the breach. By his calculations, there should still be days before disaster struck.
So why had it come early?
And worse—why did it seem like Reiner and Bertolt themselves had transformed inside the city?
Hadn't they been laughing and eating together just last night? Hadn't Annie praised Carula's cooking?
Everything was unraveling too fast.
The Garrison soldier bolted outside with Eren in his arms. As Zeke moved toward Carula, he shoved her forward. "We need to go! Now!"
But Carula's eyes were frantic. "Where are Reiner and Bertolt?"
"I was about to ask you!" Zeke snapped. His mind whirled. If not them, then who were the Titans rampaging through Shiganshina?
Annie, too, was nowhere to be seen.
The soldier—Hannis, she had called him—yelled again from the doorway. "Carla! Stop wasting time with that boy!"
"He's a relative's child!" Carla protested. "And we still have three others here—"
The rest of her words were lost in the deafening roar.
BOOM.
The house collapsed.
Darkness crushed down on Zeke, wood and tile burying him alive. Pain exploded across his body—half of him was pulp, bones shattered, organs crushed. He nearly blacked out.
But pain was also clarity.
He forced his mind to stay conscious, to focus on his Titan blood. The regenerative power surged, knitting flesh back together, mending bones with unnatural speed. Slowly, agonizingly, the pain lessened.
Through the rubble, he heard voices.
"Eren, listen to me," Carla's voice trembled.
"My legs are crushed. I can't move. Even if I get out, I can't run. You must go!"
"I'll carry you!"
"Eren! Please, for once, listen! This is the last time I'll ever ask you!"
"I don't care! I won't leave you!"
"Mikasa! Take him away, please!"
"No! I won't!"
The children's sobs tore at the night. None of them would abandon her.
Carla's desperate cry followed: "Hannis! Please—take the children! Save them!"
Zeke gritted his teeth under the rubble. If only the Garrison soldier had Levi's courage, humanity might have a chance.
Instead, Hannis muttered,
"Carla, don't look down on me…" and staggered outside with his blade, unsteady but trying to be brave.
Moments later Carla screamed, then gasped with relief. "Yes! Hannis, thank you! Take them and run! You must live!"
Zeke blinked in disbelief.
What? That soldier hadn't fought? He had picked up the children and fled.
He abandoned her.
Anger surged. What kind of soldier left comrades to die? Yet… was it really so strange? Outside the Walls, Zeke had seen countless men die in vain against Pure Titans. Even the Survey Corps—so bold earlier that day—owed 99% of their strength to one man: Levi Ackerman.
Without him, the rest were fodder.
Zeke's chest ached, not from his wounds but from helplessness. No one here could save Carla. No one could stop the cycle.
Carla's sobs filled the broken night. "Don't leave me… don't leave me alone…"
Zeke forced his throat to work. "…Auntie."
Her weeping halted. "Zeke? You're alive?"
"Yes." His voice rasped, but his Titan vitality gave him strength. "I'm still here."
"You're alive…" Carla whispered, as if clinging to a thread of hope. Her voice wavered between joy and despair. "I'm so glad… but tell me, how bad are your injuries?"