Zeke dragged little Eren by the arm, forcing him forward.
But this boy—this stubborn, reckless boy—was born with rebellion stitched into his very bones.
Especially when it came to his older brother, he resisted with the fiercest kind of defiance.
Zeke tried to pull him along, but Eren thrashed and shouted with all the strength his small body could muster.
"Why?!" His young voice cracked against the chaos all around them. "Brother Zeke clearly has the weapons to fight Titans! You clearly have the ability to save the world! You can save it—so why don't you?!"
Zeke's patience, stretched to its limit, snapped.
His golden eyes flashed with pain and frustration as he barked back:
"Because I only have twenty bullets!" His voice was rough, raw. "Only enough to escort you to the docks—not enough to save the world! I'm not as great as you think, Eren! I'm not your hero!"
The boy froze, stunned by the confession.
His mouth hung open, words failing him for the first time.
Behind them, the ground shook.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The armored giant charged, each step pounding like a war drum, shaking rubble loose from broken houses, sending terrified birds shrieking into the sky.
Eren's lip trembled.
"But… on the other side of the wall… there are people like me. Ordinary humans…" His voice broke into something close to a plea.
Zeke inhaled sharply, heart twisting.
He looked at his little brother, this boy who still believed the world could be saved if only someone tried hard enough.
"I'm sorry," Zeke whispered, though his voice was lined with steel. "I'm just an ordinary man too. Just your brother. Just another ant crushed under the boots of people who call themselves kings."
And then, unbidden, the words of Da Ai echoed in his mind:
"A royal family that doesn't even care about its own people…"
His chest tightened.
He remembered her face, her fire, the way she never wavered when she spoke of injustice.
It's the most annoying thing.
He couldn't stand it anymore. His heart ached, but his hands acted on their own. Zeke swung the anti-Titan rifle onto his shoulder, braced himself, and aimed squarely at the back of the Armored Titan's neck.
But then—
He saw a vision.
The crying boy on the boat. The one who had wailed so hard, his tiny body heaving, tears soaking his face.
That boy had been the only one to silently support Zeke's love with Anna, the only one who saw him not as a Beast, not as a warrior, but as a man.
The memory tore through him. His finger faltered. His aim slipped.
The shot went wide.
As the bullet left the barrel, Zeke's mind spun backward, to the year 843.
The day when the new generation of warriors first inherited the Titans' power. The day of the instructor's evaluation—the test of speed.
"Armored Titan, Speed: 6!"
"Female Titan, Speed: 8!"
Reiner, fresh from transformation, burst from the nape, sweaty and panting, but when he heard his score his face turned red.
"Speed six?! I'm only six?! Annie's an eight? Impossible! I'm not slower than her!" He stamped his foot like a child, his armored jaw clenched. "I demand a rematch! I'll prove it—I'll be faster!"
The instructor waved him off, already bored. "Enough, Reiner. Results are final. There's no need for another test."
But Reiner shook his head furiously. "No! Annie, you wait! I'll beat you! I swear I'll be faster!"
Annie's icy blue eyes narrowed. Annoyance flashed across her face.
Finally, she snapped,
"What's the point of being faster than me? I've got speed enough to dodge a bullet!"
Reiner bared his teeth. "Bullets? Ha! I'm covered in armor. I'm not afraid of bullets."
"Tsk." Annie turned away with a curl of her lip.
And Zeke?
He hadn't even spoken. His score was lower than both. Speed: 5. At the very bottom, apart from the Warhammer and Colossal whose size made them immobile.
He had stayed silent that day, watching the others bicker, swallowing his shame.
But now—
Zeke's eyes narrowed as he looked at Reiner's towering form.
Well, Reiner… are you faster than a bullet?
Are you afraid of bullets now?
Bang!
The bullet ripped through the air, striking clean at the ankle joint.
The Armored Titan's massive frame lurched forward, momentum breaking as its leg buckled. Armor plates cracked, muscle tore, and the monster came crashing down, shaking the ground as though the world itself trembled.
Zeke lowered the rifle.
He had always known. The plates of hardened armor could withstand cannon fire, blades, even concentrated artillery—but the joints, the very points that needed to bend, remained vulnerable.
It was Reiner's fatal flaw.
He had known it for years, but he had never said a word. Watching the boy puff himself up, convinced of his invincibility, had been almost… endearing. Children bragging, pretending to be invincible—that was something Zeke could never quite bring himself to crush.
Now, though, there was no room for sentiment.
Eren's eyes widened. His face lit with wild joy. "Brother Zeke! I knew it! I knew you could stop that monster! You did it!" He jumped up and down, fists pumping with excitement.
But Hannes was far less impressed.
He rounded on Zeke, voice shaking with fear and anger. "Why shoot the ankle?! Why not the back of the neck, like before?! Everyone knows the Titan's weak point is there! Next time, don't miss! If that armored thing lives, it'll be a threat to all of humanity!"
"The weak point is the back of the neck…" Eren echoed, eyes bright, almost feverish. He pumped his little fists. "Brother Zeke, kill the Titans! Kill them all!"
Tch. Zeke almost laughed. Did this boy even hear the words leaving his own mouth? Kill them all? With what? With hope alone?
Zeke's inner voice grumbled bitterly. This kid has no idea what he's asking.
He whispered under his breath, counting. "Only fifteen left now."
One bullet to blast through the rubble and save Carla.
One to sever Mother's hand.
One to put her out of her misery.
One wasted on the phantom of nineteen-year-old Eren
One to shatter Reiner's ankle.
Fifteen.
Zeke raised the rifle again, calm, precise. Another Titan stumbled near, drawn by the noise, its twisted grin splitting its face.
He fired once, its skull exploding.
Fired again, another head burst apart.
The acrid smoke stung his nose.
"Thirteen," he murmured coldly.
He looked back at the boy still cheering him on. "Now, Eren… do you still want me to kill them all?"
...
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