Chapter 127: The Queen's Coronation, a Torrent of Fervor (Kyubey Arrives in the Next Chapter)
The smoke over Trost District had not yet cleared. Amidst the rubble, Survey Corps soldiers worked efficiently, carrying the wounded to medical stations. On the broken streets, squads of captured Central Military Police, weapons confiscated, were marched away, their expressions numb.
Erwin stood at the breach in the Wall, his gaze sweeping over the scene as he calmly gave orders. The victory had been costly, but the gears of revolution were turning, and there was no going back.
"TROST DISTRICT! EREN JAEGER DEFEATS GIANTS, CAPTURES MARLEYAN WARRIORS!"
"ROYAL GOVERNMENT'S HUNDRED-YEAR LIE EXPOSED! WORLD OUTSIDE WANTS US EXTERMINATED!"
"HISTORIA REISS IS THE TRUE ROYAL HEIR!"
The news, spread through various channels, ignited the panic, rage, and despair that had been festering in the Eldian people for a century. The corruption, incompetence, and colossal lie of the old regime shattered the people's faith.
Eren Jaeger, the boy who had displayed god-like power, became the only piece of driftwood for them to cling to in a drowning world. Fear bred blind obedience. Despair bred fanaticism.
With the tacit cooperation of military leaders like Zackly and Nile, and accompanied by a storm of public opinion, Erwin led the main force of the Survey Corps into the Royal Capital of Mitras, virtually unopposed. The streets were filled with an anxious and agitated populace, watching in awe as the soldiers with the Wings of Freedom took control of key points. The change was too fast, the truth too cruel. But their faith in "Eren" became the only fixed point in their chaotic thoughts.
The core of the regime change took place in the underground crystal chapel. Cold light seeped from the luminescent ore walls, illuminating the vast, empty altar. Rod Reiss, the last vestige of the old guard, cowered in the shadows, trembling. His final bodyguards had already surrendered, their weapons scattered.
Erwin approached slowly, his military boots echoing in the cavern. Hange, Levi, Eren, Historia, and Ymir—who stood protectively in front of her—followed.
"Rod Reiss," Erwin spoke. "The history of the Walls will be rewritten. Come with us. The Eldian people deserve an explanation."
"No—NO! I am the King!" Rod shrieked, his voice cracking. "This is treason! Blasphemy! You will all be struck down by divine punishment!"
"If there's a god to strike anyone down, it should be a waste of space like you, right?" Levi muttered.
Rod's eyes darted madly, finally landing on his daughter, his voice twisting. "Historia! My daughter! Listen to me! This is our family's destiny! Find the Founder! Become a god! Save us all! You must—"
"Shut up."
A cold female voice cut him off. Historia stepped forward, standing before her father, her eyes holding only icy pity and resolve. "Your 'mission,' your 'destiny'… as of today, they have nothing to do with me."
She lifted her head, her gaze sweeping over everyone present, finally landing on Ymir. "I wasn't born into this world to be someone's tool, or to become some god. I am Historia Reiss. And I will choose my own path, with my own will."
"You—how dare you—" Rod collapsed like a sack of filth, his eyes vacant, mumbling, "Impossible… it's all ruined…" His mind had completely shattered.
Eren watched it all with cold indifference, feeling nothing for this man, one of the roots of their tragedy. Finally, Rod Reiss, a withered husk, was hauled to his feet by soldiers and dragged away to a deep, dark cell to await the justice of the new regime and the merciless verdict of history.
…
The central plaza of the capital. The sun was blinding.
The coronation ceremony was hasty but no less grand. On a high platform, Historia Reiss, in a pure white gown, slowly accepted the heavy crown under the gaze of thousands. She stood tall, her gaze firm, as if ready to bear the weight of it all. Ymir stood behind her, her expression complex, yet relieved. Eren Jaeger stood to her other side.
Below the platform, a sea of people. The air was thick with the smell of dust and sweat, and a near-maniacal collective emotion. The excitement of overthrowing the old king, the fear of the truth, the desperate desire for survival, and—above all—a near-religious fanaticism for Eren Jaeger, overwhelmed everything else.
When the officiant declared Historia Reiss the new Queen, cheers erupted.
"Long live the Queen!"
"Queen Historia!"
The cheers were loud, but they didn't last. Immediately, a more terrifying, more deafening roar, like a tsunami, drowned out the plaza.
"EREN!!!"
"EREN JAEGER!!!"
"IT WAS EREN WHO CHOSE THE QUEEN!"
"EREN! LEAD US TO SURVIVE!!!"
"EREN!!!"
"EREN!!!"
Countless arms reached toward the platform, countless pairs of eyes fixed fanatically on the green-eyed boy. They didn't care who the Queen was; they only recognized Eren's strength, they only trusted Eren's choice. Under the shadow of annihilation, Eren was their only light, their only sword, their only hope. Wherever he pointed his sword, they would follow.
In the crowd, Armin's face was pale as he watched the scene spiral out of control. He understood this fervor born of despair, and he knew the power it could unleash. It was exactly what Eldia needed right now, but he also feared the destruction it could bring. If this emotion was left unchecked, the hatred might never end. Peace might drift further and further away. But the momentum it provided was extremely effective.
"Placing all their hopes on one person… this is too dangerous, Eren…" He was afraid Eren would be swept away by this tide of popular opinion, losing himself in it.
Hange frowned, whispering to Erwin, "We can use this, but it's a flood. Eren is carrying too much."
Erwin watched the torrent below with a calm, rational gaze. "This is a necessary price. Unity is the prerequisite for survival. As for the direction he takes us… I trust Eren's future choices." But deep down, he too felt a sliver of worry.
On the platform, Historia's face paled slightly as she felt the crowd's gaze shift away from her, but she clenched her fists and stood even straighter. This was the path she had chosen, no matter how difficult.
Eren stood, facing the thundering, fanatical screams. He felt the weight of their "hope" and "faith," enough to crush any single person. His heart was a cold, calm void. He slowly raised his hand, signaling for quiet.
Miraculously, the roar subsided. Everyone held their breath, waiting for their "savior" to speak.
Eren's voice, amplified, carried across the plaza.
"The world outside sees us as devils! They want to wipe us off the face of the earth!"
"A hundred years of cowering has not brought us peace, only a slow death!"
"The old era is over! The cowards have been swept into the trash heap of history!"
"Don't forget what those cowards, who drowned themselves in a false peace, did! They thought compromise would buy them survival? Look what we got! A hundred years of being farmed like livestock, living in constant fear of being devoured! Those people outside the Walls have never given up on exterminating us!"
His gaze swept over every excited, terrified, fanatical face in the crowd.
"Historia Reiss is our new Queen! Under her leadership, we will unite as one, and we will sharpen our fangs! Take up your weapons! Contribute your strength! We will show this cruel world the final roar of the Eldian people!"
"Peace is not something you beg for! It is something we must take back for ourselves!"
"It is either freedom, or death!"
"TATAKAE!!!"
"TATAKAE!!!"
"TATAKAE!!!"
The response was an even more insane tsunami of roars.
The Queen was crowned. The history of the Walls, baptized in blood and fire, had turned a new page.
But Eren knew this was only the beginning. On the horizon, the real storm was brewing. And in order to protect the people he cherished from the curse of the Titan power and the fate of Witchification, it was time for some people to be put to use.
His gaze seemed to pierce through the royal palace, into the dungeons below, landing on the captured "vessels."
And on the few pairs of young, equally fanatical eyes in the crowd, staring up at him.
This blood-stained road to freedom… he would walk it alone.