---
The thunder of hooves was a relentless, driving heartbeat, the only sound in a world that had gone grimly silent. A special detachment of the Scout Regiment, the best of the best and their most volatile asset, rode south at a breakneck pace. They were a spear tip of green and brown against the vast, open plains, a fragile hope riding towards a fresh hell.
Akira rode in the center of the formation, a king on a chessboard he no longer controlled. He was not in chains, but the weight of Levi's constant, piercing gaze was a heavier shackle than any iron. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest with the jarring rhythm of the gallop. The "interrogation" had left him with more than just bruises; it had left a deep, grinding exhaustion that his Ki struggled to keep at bay. He was a sword, freshly pulled from the forge of pain and despair, still glowing with a dangerous heat.
Levi rode a few paces away, his posture a study in controlled fury. He hated this. He hated the order, hated the bargain, and most of all, he hated the fact that humanity's survival now rested on the shoulders of a boy he couldn't trust, a monster whose motives were a complete and utter mystery. He was a master of control, and Akira was the embodiment of chaos. Now, that chaos was his weapon to command. The irony was a bitter taste in his mouth.
The tension between them was a physical thing, a taut wire that the rest of the squad had to navigate. Mikasa and Erin flanked Akira, a silent, defiant honor guard. Their loyalty was a palpable shield, their glares daring anyone to so much as look at him the wrong way. Armin rode close behind, his mind a whirlwind of strategy and theory, trying to understand the new, terrifying game they were all being forced to play.
"We need to check his bandages."
The voice was soft but firm, cutting through the rhythmic pounding of hooves. Petra Ral, her orange hair a bright flame in the grey morning light, had guided her horse alongside Akira's. Her kind, warm eyes were filled with a professional concern that couldn't quite hide a deeper, more personal worry.
Before Akira could protest that he was fine, she was already reaching over, her movements deft and practiced. "Don't be stubborn," she chided gently, her voice low enough that only he could hear. "If you get an infection, you'll be useless to all of us."
He reluctantly held out his hands, the crude bandages from the dungeon already stained with fresh blood. Her touch was surprisingly gentle as she unwrapped the soiled linen, revealing the mangled, bruised flesh underneath. He flinched, a sharp hiss of pain escaping his lips.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes softening with a sympathy that felt like a balm on his raw nerves. She worked quickly, cleaning the wounds with water from her canteen and wrapping them in fresh, clean bandages from her medical kit. Her fingers were warm, her movements a small, intimate act of kindness in a world that had offered him nothing but brutality.
"Thank you, Petra," he said, his voice a quiet, rough rasp.
"Just... try not to die, okay?" she replied, a faint, sad smile touching her lips. "The Captain would kill me if his new weapon broke on the first day."
She pulled back, her work done, leaving Akira with the faint warmth of her touch and a fresh, sharp ache in his heart. It was the small kindnesses, he realized, that were the hardest to bear.
---
They met Hange's squad near the edge of a smoldering forest. The Section Commander was a whirlwind of frantic, terrifying energy, her goggles askew, her face smeared with soot and a wild, manic glee.
"Erwin! Thank god!" she shrieked, practically leaping from her horse before it had even stopped. "The situation in the southern district is a complete catastrophe! We've been fighting a losing battle for days! The breach is still uncontained, the Titans are still appearing, and that thing... that Beast Titan... It's still out there!"
She unrolled a hastily drawn sketch, her hands trembling with excitement. "It's magnificent! A seventeen-meter class, but its proportions are all wrong! Long, ape-like arms, covered in fur! And it talks! It actually talks! But the most fascinating part is its strategy!"
Her voice became a torrent of excited words. "It's not just killing! It's commanding the smaller Titans! It uses them as a screen, then throws projectiles with a speed and accuracy that's... well, it's beautiful! A perfect, parabolic arc! We lost five soldiers just trying to get close enough to observe!"
Levi's face was a mask of stone. "So it's smart, and it's a coward. It lets the little ones do the dirty work."
"Not a coward, a commander!" Hange corrected, her eyes gleaming. "It's a leader! This changes everything we know about the Titan hierarchy! Do you think it has a name? Can I capture it? I have so many questions!"
"We have only one question for it," Erwin said, his calm voice cutting through Hange's manic energy. He turned his gaze to the assembled soldiers, his expression grim. "Listen up! The situation has changed. Our objective is no longer observation. It is extermination." He looked from Levi to Akira, his next words landing with the weight of a royal decree. "Captain Levi, you will have tactical command of the field. All soldiers will follow your orders. That includes you, Akira. Your power is now under his direct command. Is that understood?"
The silence that followed was heavy and absolute. Every soldier stared, their minds grappling with the impossible reality. The traitor was now their ace. The weapon Levi distrusted most was now his to wield.
Akira met the Captain's cold, steel-grey gaze and gave a single, sharp nod. "Understood."
Levi's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek. He didn't acknowledge the answer. He just turned his horse south, his eyes fixed on the pillar of smoke on the horizon. The sword had been placed in his hand. He could only pray it wouldn't cut him.
---
The village was a ghost town. Doors hung open on their hinges, a half-eaten meal sat on an overturned table, and a child's doll lay face down in the dirt, its silent, porcelain eyes staring at the sky. The air was thick with an eerie silence, the prelude to a scream.
They paused for a moment to water the horses, the silence pressing down on them. It was here, amidst the quiet wreckage of a hundred shattered lives, that Christa Lenz finally found her courage.
She approached Akira, her movements hesitant, her face a canvas of conflicted emotions. The idealistic girl who had seen him as a flawless hero was now faced with a complicated, painful reality.
"Akira?" she began, her voice barely a whisper.
He turned, his blue eyes tired but soft as they settled on her.
"I... I don't understand," she said, the words tumbling out in a rush of confusion and hurt. "They call you a traitor. They chained you up. They hurt you. And still... you came. You're still fighting." She looked up at him, her own blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "How? How can you keep fighting for people who hate you? For a world that wants to destroy you?"
Her question was the heart of it all, the question that had haunted him in the darkness of the dungeon. He looked past her, at the empty homes, at the doll in the dirt. His answer, when it came, was not a grand speech. It was quiet, simple, and filled with a profound, weary sadness.
"Because it's not about whether they love me or hate me, Christa," he said, his voice a low murmur. He looked back at her, and his gaze was so intense, so full of a pain she couldn't possibly comprehend, that it made her heart ache. "It's about me protecting them anyway. That's the only choice that matters."
He reached out, not to touch her, but to gently pick up the fallen doll. He brushed the dirt from its face and handed it to her. "Someone needs to," he added softly.
Christa stared at him, the doll held tight in her hands. In that moment, her shaken faith didn't just return; it was forged into something new. Something stronger. She was no longer looking at a simple hero. She was looking at a man who had seen the very worst of the world and had chosen, with every fiber of his being, to be its shield anyway. And she knew, with a certainty that filled her entire soul, that she would follow him into any darkness.
---
They crested the final hill, and the full, unadulterated horror of the battlefield spread out before them. It was a scene from a nightmare. The southern district was a slaughterhouse. Titans of all sizes roamed the plains, their smiling faces smeared with blood. The desperate, zipping figures of the local garrison soldiers were being swatted from the sky like insects.
And in the distance, perched atop a ruined bell tower like a king on a throne of corpses, was the Beast Titan. It watched the massacre with a detached, almost bored amusement, occasionally ripping a chunk of stone from the tower and hurling it at a fleeing group of soldiers, a casual act of god-like destruction.
The time for talk was over. The time for strategy was a luxury they could not afford. There was only the mission. There was only the enemy.
Levi spurred his horse forward, pulling up beside Akira. The wind whipped his green cape, his face a mask of cold, hard fury. He didn't look at the boy beside him. His eyes were locked on the furry monster in the distance.
He had been given command of a god. He had been handed a sword that could shatter the world. And now, it was time to unsheathe it.
"That furry bastard," Levi said, his voice a low, chilling growl that cut through the roar of the battle. "Erase him."
---
•To Be Continue•
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