The days after Trost blurred into a haze of sweat, sore muscles, and whispered rumors. The Training Corps had lost too many that day, and the survivors carried the weight of it in their eyes. Kael kept to himself as much as possible, moving through the drills like any other cadet, but the voice in his blood never fully left him. It hummed low, a constant reminder that he was not like the others.
He stood on the training field at dawn, wooden practice blade in hand, watching the others spar. Eren was nearby, throwing punches with that same fire in his gut, Armin calling out strategies from the side. Mikasa moved like a shadow, her strikes precise and deadly. Kael felt a strange pull when he looked at her, something in the blood calling to blood, but he pushed it down. Not yet.
Instructor Shadis barked orders, his voice cutting through the morning air like a whip. Pair up and show me what you learned from not dying yesterday!
Kael found himself paired with a tall, quiet boy named Jean. The spar was quick. Jean came in hard, all anger and bravado, but Kael sidestepped, tapped his wrist, and sent him sprawling with barely any effort. Jean hit the dirt and glared up. What the hell was that? You barely moved.
Just luck, Kael muttered, offering a hand. Jean ignored it and stood on his own, brushing off his uniform.
Luck my ass, Jean grumbled as he walked away. You fight like you were born with a blade in your hand.
Kael said nothing. He could not afford to stand out more than he already had. But the incident with Eren had already spread. Whispers followed him now. That new guy, Rivaille, he took down an aberrant like it was nothing. Saved Eren Jaeger. Moved like the wind.
During lunch break, Eren cornered him near the mess hall. Armin and Mikasa were close behind, watching with careful eyes.
You never answered me properly on the roof, Eren said, arms crossed. Who are you, really? And how did you know to save me?
Kael leaned against the wooden wall, chewing on a piece of hard bread. I told you. Someone tired of cages. The Titans have taken enough. Figured you felt the same.
Eren studied him, green eyes narrowing. There is something off about you. Like you know more than you let on.
Maybe I do, Kael replied quietly. But talking about it here will get us all killed faster.
Mikasa stepped forward then, her scarf shifting slightly. She looked at Kael with sharp focus, as if trying to place a half remembered face. Your movements. They remind me of someone. Family, almost. But that is impossible.
Kael felt the blood stir again, a faint echo of recognition. He met her gaze steadily. The world is full of impossible things these days. Titans walking, walls breaking. Maybe family is just another one.
Before she could press further, a shout rang out from the field. Training resumed, and the group scattered. But Kael caught the way Mikasa glanced back at him once, her eyes troubled.
That night, as the cadets settled into the barracks, Kael slipped out under the cover of darkness. The moon hung low over the training grounds, casting long shadows. He climbed to the top of the wall, perching on the edge where the wind whipped cold and clean. From here he could see the distant ruins of Trost, still smoking in places.
The voice came again, softer this time, like a woman whispering secrets in the dark.
You are not alone in this cage, Kael Ackerman. The boy with green eyes carries destruction, but you carry the end. Find the girl with royal blood. She will need you soon.
Kael gripped the stone, knuckles white. Who are you? Why me?
I am the one who started it all, the voice answered, filled with centuries of pain. Ymir. And you are the one meant to finish it. The Ackermans were my fail safe, born when I realized the power I gave the royals would only bring more chains. But the loop continues because no one has ever reached me without hate or blind loyalty. You can.
He closed his eyes, letting the Paths flicker at the edge of his vision. Golden threads stretched out across the night, connecting every Eldian, every Titan. He saw flashes of faces, of pain, of endless cycles.
A rustle behind him made him turn. Historia Reiss stood there, dressed in simple cadet clothes, her blonde hair catching the moonlight. She had been watching him, it seemed, her expression a mix of curiosity and caution.
You should not be up here alone, she said softly. It is dangerous after what happened.
Kael relaxed slightly. Just needed some air. You too?
Historia smiled faintly, stepping closer. The others talk about you. They say you are different. Stronger. I saw you in Trost, even if no one else did clearly. You moved like you knew exactly where to strike.
Kael studied her. She looked small under the vast sky, but there was steel in her eyes, hidden behind years of being treated as nothing. He knew that feeling too well.
Maybe I just hate seeing people get eaten, he said with a shrug.
Historia laughed lightly, a sound that felt out of place in their broken world. That is a good reason. Most here fight for revenge or duty. You seem to fight for something else.
Freedom, Kael said before he could stop himself. Real freedom. Not the kind behind walls.
Her eyes met his, and for a moment the Paths hummed stronger. He saw a glimpse of her future, chains of royalty wrapping around her, a throne she never asked for.
If you ever need someone to talk to, she said quietly, about more than just training. I am here.
Kael nodded, the small connection warming something cold inside him. Thanks. Same for you, Reiss.
She tilted her head. How did you know my last name?
Lucky guess, he lied smoothly.
As she walked away, Kael turned back to the horizon. The voice whispered once more.
The girl with royal blood. Protect her. She is part of the key too.
Down below, unseen by either of them, a figure in a cloak watched from the shadows. Zeke's spies were already moving, carrying word of the new Ackerman to Marley.
The hunt had begun.
Kael did not know it yet, but the shadows in the ranks were lengthening, and soon the training corps would be anything but safe.