The wind atop Wall Rose carried the smell of smoke and iron.
Eren stood near the edge, boots planted against stone that still felt warm from cannon fire. Below him, Trost District looked broken—streets clogged with debris, steam rising in thin, sickly lines where Titans still roamed. Every sound echoed too loudly up here: shouted orders, clanking gear, the distant cries of soldiers trying not to think about what waited below.
Dot Pixis stood beside him, hands folded over his cane, eyes half-lidded as if he were admiring the view rather than surveying a battlefield.
"So," Pixis said lightly, "you're telling me you'll do it—even if you don't fully understand how."
Eren swallowed. "…Yes, sir."
Pixis glanced at him, amused. "No hesitation?"
"There is," Eren answered honestly. "But if I don't try, people will die. So… I'll do it anyway."
Pixis smiled wider. "Good. That's what I call a real man."
Behind them, space bent.
Not dramatically—just enough for reality to feel offended.
Alex appeared a few steps away, hands in his pockets, white hair tugged by the wind. "You know," he said, "every time someone says 'real man,' a part of me expects a lecture about courage and alcohol."
Pixis chuckled. "And you must be the strange fellow who terrifies my soldiers."
Alex placed a hand over his chest. "I prefer 'unsettles.' Terror is such a strong word."
Pixis turned fully to him. "I want you near the boy during the operation."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Near, yes. Visible? No."
"Ah?" Pixis hummed.
Alex leaned closer, voice dropping just enough. "Whoever caused the breach is watching patterns. If they see me openly guarding him, they'll adapt. I'll stay… adjacent."
Pixis studied him, then laughed. "You think like a demon."
"Occupational hazard."
Pixis waved his cane. "Do as you wish. Just make sure the boy lives."
Alex gave a lazy salute. "Already promised."
He stepped back—and vanished.
No smoke. No sound.
Just absence.
Mikasa stiffened instantly. Armin's eyes darted around.
"…He does that on purpose," Armin muttered.
Eren exhaled. "Yeah."
---
Below the Wall, the army was unraveling.
Fear spread faster than Titans ever could.
Daz stood shaking, eyes unfocused, sword trembling in his grip. "I—I can't do this again," he whispered. "They were right there. I watched them die. I was just… glad it wasn't me."
Marco grabbed his wrist gently. "Daz, listen to me. Panicking won't—"
"I'd rather be executed!" Daz shouted suddenly. "Than eaten!"
Nearby soldiers froze.
An officer turned sharply. "That kind of talk is treason."
Daz laughed hysterically. "Then kill me!"
He raised the blade toward himself.
Marco lunged.
"Stop!"
More voices joined—fear feeding fear. Soldiers began stepping back, then turning away entirely. Desertion spread like rot.
High above, Eren didn't see it.
He and Pixis walked slowly along the Wall. Pixis spoke casually, as if telling a bedtime story.
"There's an old legend," Pixis said, "that humans once stopped fighting each other when a great enemy appeared."
Eren frowned. "I've never heard that."
Pixis chuckled. "Most haven't. Do you believe it?"
Eren thought of Titans. Of cannons pointed at his face. Of Alex's words.
"…It sounds naïve."
Pixis laughed loudly. "Exactly what I thought."
They passed Hannes' squad. Hannes stiffened when he saw Eren.
"You idiot," Hannes muttered, relief flashing across his face. "You're alive—why are you up here with—"
Eren met his eyes and shook his head once.
Focus.
Hannes clenched his jaw and turned back to his men.
Pixis took out a flask. "Care for a drink?"
Eren accepted, took a sip—and immediately spat it out, coughing violently.
Pixis roared with laughter.
---
When Pixis finally addressed the soldiers, his voice carried like thunder.
He laid out the plan.
The boulder.
Eren.
Hope wrapped in desperation.
The crowd reacted exactly as expected—disbelief, fear, anger.
Some walked away.
Kitz Woermann raised his weapon—
"Stop," Pixis ordered calmly.
He declared deserters pardoned.
Then he reminded them who would face the Titans if they fled.
Silence followed.
Slowly, soldiers returned to their positions.
Above them all, unseen, a thin barrier shimmered faintly over the breached gate.
Alex crouched on a ruined rooftop, hood pulled up, eyes glowing faintly blue as he watched Titans move below like pieces on a board.
"…Still no sign," he thought. "Which means you're patient. Or confident."
A Titan lunged toward a cluster of cadets.
Alex snapped his fingers.
The Titan's head vanished.
No explosion. No steam burst.
Just erased.
He reappeared further down the street, blade-less hand slicing through another Titan's neck with invisible force.
"Stay hidden," he muttered. "Don't let them see you."
Because if the real enemy realized he wasn't at full strength—
They'd strike.
---
Near the staging area, Armin bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Eren. I put everything on you."
Eren shook his head. "I believed in you from the start."
Mikasa stepped forward. "I'm coming with you."
"No," Eren snapped. "You're on the decoy team."
"I won't let you be alone."
"I'm not your brother," Eren said sharply. "Or your son."
Mikasa froze.
Then—
"You're with us," Ian ordered.
Relief flooded her face.
As they moved out, Alex watched from above, eyes narrowing as Eren bit his hand.
"…Alright," he thought. "Let's see what you do."
The Titan formed.
The boulder loomed.
For one brief moment—
Hope felt real.
Then Eren turned.
And swung at Mikasa.
Alex vanished.
And the trap finally began to close.
---
The heat around the boulder was suffocating.
Steam rolled off Eren's Titan in heavy waves, blurring the streets of Trost into a shifting maze of stone and shadow. The plan continued despite everything—signal flares popping in the distance, cannon fire echoing as Titans were drawn, step by careful step, toward the far corner of the district. Soldiers moved with discipline, avoiding direct combat when they could. Even so, bodies fell. One out of every five never got back up.
From the Wall, Dot Pyxis watched it all without blinking.
"They do not die on their own," he said quietly to the officers beside him. "They die because I order them forward."
No one answered.
"This is a critical point in mankind's survival," Pyxis continued, voice calm, almost gentle. "If humanity lives on, I do not mind being called a murderer."
Below, at the boulder, Mikasa darted between falling fists.
Eren's Titan lashed out wildly—huge arms slamming into stone, cracking the street, missing her by meters only because she refused to hesitate. Each movement sent shockwaves through the ground. Soldiers shouted warnings that vanished into the steam.
"Mikasa, pull back!" Ian yelled. "He's not responding!"
She didn't listen.
ODM gear screamed as she hooked onto the Titan's shoulder and swung up, ignoring the heat burning her skin. She slammed both blades into the hardened flesh near its face, anchoring herself, hanging there directly in front of its eyes.
"Eren!" she shouted. "Look at me!"
The Titan's eyes twitched—but didn't focus.
"Eren, it's me!" Her voice broke, but she forced it louder. "You said you'd come back! You said we'd all live!"
Below them, Rico raised her flare gun, jaw clenched.
"…This is failure," she said coldly.
The red flare streaked into the sky.
On the Wall, soldiers stiffened.
Red.
Ian's eyes widened. "Mikasa, get away from him—now!"
The Titan pulled back its arm.
Mikasa launched herself free just as the fist came down—not at her, but at its own head. The impact thundered through the street, steam exploding outward.
Soldiers stumbled.
"What is he doing?!" someone screamed.
"He's lost control!" another yelled.
The elite team regrouped hastily. Voices overlapped—fear, logic, desperation.
"We should retreat," Mitabi said tightly. "If he draws more Titans, we'll be overrun."
Mikasa turned on him, eyes blazing. "You want to leave him here?!"
Before she could move, Ian stepped in front of her, firm. "Enough."
He turned to the team. "We hold."
Rico stared at him. "Even now?"
"Especially now," Ian replied. "Eren Yeager is a possibility humanity has never had. We do not abandon that."
Mikasa clenched her fists, then bowed her head slightly. "…Thank you."
Ian gave a tired smirk. "No need. Now defend your—" he paused, then snorted, "—your lover."
Her face flushed instantly. "He's my family."
High above, Pyxis saw the flare and the hesitation ripple through the ranks.
A soldier beside him spoke urgently. "Commander, we should focus on defense and call the elite team back!"
Pyxis shook his head. "No. Continue the lure."
"But sir—!"
"I trust them," Pyxis said simply. "They will not give up so easily."
At the boulder, Mikasa noticed something else.
Eren's Titan wasn't healing.
Cracks along its knuckles remained. Steam thinned where it should have surged.
"…Your wounds," she whispered. "Why aren't you regenerating?"
Fear crept in—not sharp, but cold.
Can he even come back?
She pushed the thought away. Now wasn't the time.
Inside the Titan, Eren barely knew where he was.
The world felt distant, heavy. Sounds reached him like echoes through water. His vision shifted—and suddenly he wasn't in Trost anymore.
He was home.
Sunlight through a window. The table. His parents' voices. Mikasa standing there, younger, calling his name.
"…I'm tired," he thought. "Can I stay here?"
A shape appeared at the window.
Blond hair.
Panicked eyes.
"Eren!" Armin's voice cut through the vision.
At the same moment, Armin reached the edge of the Wall and launched himself down, sprinting toward the boulder as fast as his legs could carry him.
What happened?
Why red?
He arrived to chaos—Titans converging, soldiers fighting desperately, Mikasa flashing through the steam like a blade.
"Armin!" she shouted when she saw him. "He can't control it!"
Armin looked up at the Titan, at the way it drew Titans toward itself without meaning to.
"…I think I know why," he said, breathless.
Before anyone could stop him, Armin moved.
He leapt, drove his blade into the Titan's nape—not deep enough to kill, but precise. The blade passed through flesh and struck Eren's arm inside.
"Armin!" Mikasa yelled.
"Defend them!" he shouted back. "Please!"
Inside the Titan, pain flared.
Eren's vision shattered.
Armin stood there—not at a window, but right in front of him.
"Remember!" Armin shouted. "The Scouts! The sea! You said you'd see it with me!"
Eren staggered inside the Titan's body, clutching his arm.
"…The Scouts," he murmured.
Outside, the elite team fought desperately, cutting down Titans that surged closer and closer.
And unseen by all of them—
Space bent.
A Titan's head vanished silently, severed by nothing visible.
Another collapsed, legs giving out without a sound.
Alex moved like a ghost—hood drawn low, presence erased, appearing only long enough to end a threat before disappearing a
gain. No steam bursts. No spectacle. Just absence where danger had been.
"…Not yet," he thought. "They don't need to see me."
He watched Armin's desperate gamble. Mikasa's unwavering defense. Eren's mind teetering on the edge.
"…Come on," Alex murmured. "Choose."
The battlefield raged on.
But at its center—
Everything waited on whether Eren Yeager would wake up.