Armin looked up, pale and exhausted. "Hange examined the vial from the second attacker. its just a normal poison."
Mitras, Three Days Later – Late Afternoon
The supply room was a maze of crates and barrels, the air thick with dust and the faint tang of gunpowder. Alex crouched behind a stack of flour sacks, his breath shallow, clutching a rusty wrench he'd grabbed from a toolbox.
The distant clatter of boots echoed through the stone corridors outside—too many, too fast. Something was wrong.
He'd been tallying inventory when the first shout rang out, followed by the unmistakable crack of gunfire.
The door burst open, and Alex's heart lurched. But it was Mikasa, her scarf loose around her neck, a blade in each hand. Her eyes scanned the room, locking onto him instantly. "Get up," she said, voice low and sharp. "We're moving."
Alex stood, gripping the wrench tighter. "What's happening?"
"No time." She grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the back of the room. Her grip was iron, but her movements were precise, almost gentle. "MPs are compromised. Someone let attackers in. Stay close."
He nodded, his mind racing. Attackers. Marley? Yeagerists? Or just rogue MPs looking to settle scores? He couldn't tell, but the timeline was screaming in his head—852, too early for Liberio, but close enough for Marley to start probing Paradis's defenses.
They slipped through a narrow servants' passage, the walls damp and cold. Mikasa moved like a shadow, her blades catching the faint torchlight.
Alex followed, trying to match her silence, but his boots scuffed the stone, earning a quick glance from her. Not anger—focus.
"Historia?" he whispered, unable to stop himself.
"Safe," Mikasa said, not looking back. "Levi's with her. Jean and Armin are holding the main hall. We need to secure the armory."
The armory. If attackers got to the iceburst stone or ODM gear, it'd be a massacre. Alex swallowed, his free hand brushing the bullet in his pocket. "Why me? I'm not a soldier."
She stopped abruptly, turning to face him. Her eyes were piercing, cutting through the dim light. "Because you're here. And I don't trust you to stay out of trouble."
He almost laughed, but the intensity in her gaze killed it. "Fair enough," he muttered.
They reached a heavy iron door, the armory's back entrance. Mikasa pressed her ear to it, listening. A muffled crash echoed from the other side, followed by a shout—angry, panicked. She gestured for him to stay back, then eased the door open a crack.
Inside, two figures in dark cloaks rummaged through crates, pulling out canisters of iceburst stone.
One held a Marleyan rifle, its sleek design unmistakable. Alex's stomach dropped. Marley. They were already here.
Mikasa's hand tightened on her blade. "Stay low," she whispered. "Distract them."
"Me?" Alex hissed, eyes wide. "With what, my charming personality?"
Her lips twitched—barely a smile, but it was there. "You've survived worse. Figure it out."
Before he could argue, she was gone, slipping into the shadows like she was part of them. Alex cursed under his breath, gripping the wrench. He scanned the room, spotting a loose stack of crates near the intruders. If he could knock them over…
He crept forward, heart pounding, and wedged the wrench under a crate's edge. One of the men turned, rifle raised. "Who's there?"
Alex shoved with all his strength. The crates toppled, crashing into the man and sending canisters rolling. The second attacker spun, but Mikasa was already on him, her blade a blur. He hit the ground before he could scream.
The first man struggled under the crates, groping for his rifle. Alex lunged, slamming the wrench into his hand. The man cursed, but Mikasa was there, pinning him with a knee to his chest.
"Who sent you?" she demanded, her voice cold as steel.
The man spat, blood flecking his lips. "You're too late. The walls… they'll fall."
Alex froze. The Rumbling. Was this a hint of Eren's plan, or something else? Before he could ask, the man bit down hard.
Foam spilled from his mouth—black, red, just like before. He convulsed and went still.
Mikasa stood, wiping her blade clean. Her eyes flicked to Alex. "You're not useless," she said, almost reluctantly.
He managed a weak grin, catching his breath. "High praise."
She didn't respond, but her gaze lingered, softer now, like she was reassessing him. "You saw the rifle. Marleyan?"
"Yeah," he said, careful not to say too much. "Same as the poison."
Her brow furrowed, and for a moment, he thought she'd press him. But she only nodded. "We need to move. More could be coming."
They paused at a corner, her shoulder brushing his as she checked for threats. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through him.
The narrow passage twisted deeper into the underbelly of Mitras, the air growing colder and damper with each step.
Alex followed Mikasa, his breath uneven, the rusty wrench still clutched in his hand. The faint echo of gunfire from the main hall had faded, replaced by the distant drip of water and the scuff of their boots on stone.
Mikasa moved with predatory grace, her blades glinting faintly in the torchlight, but her shoulders were tense, her head tilting slightly at every sound.
They reached a junction where the passage split. Mikasa stopped, raising a hand to signal silence. Alex froze, his heart hammering. The faint clatter of metal echoed from the left path—too deliberate to be accidental.
"More of them," Mikasa whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyes flicked to Alex, sharp and assessing. "Stay behind me."
He nodded, gripping the wrench tighter, though it felt useless compared to her blades. "Got it."
She crept toward the sound, her body low, blending into the shadows. Alex followed, trying to match her stealth, but his foot caught a loose stone, sending it skittering. The noise was small, but in the silence, it was deafening.
Mikasa's head snapped back, her glare cutting through him. Before she could speak, a figure lunged from the left passage—a tall man in a dark cloak, wielding a dagger. The blade flashed toward Mikasa's side.