Zeke's golden eyes fixed on Marcel. His stare was sharp enough to cut, but Marcel didn't back down.
He stood firm, his fists clenched at his sides.
"Very brave," Zeke said at last. "Fine. I'll give Reiner one more chance. But if he still cannot transform… I'll leave him here."
Marcel's breath hitched. "You—you wouldn't really do that, would you?" His voice trembled but he pressed on.
"Captain, you let death row inmates live. You can let Reiner go too, can't you?"
Zeke's expression didn't soften. "Reiner is not the same as them, and this is not the world beyond the Walls. Out there, they were prisoners. Here, he is a soldier. Do you expect him to tell the enemy, 'I'm just an ordinary person, please spare me?'"
His words landed like hammers. Reiner flinched, his face pale.
Pressure was the forge of warriors. Zeke knew that. He also believed Reiner could withstand it—he had to. After all, in Zeke's past life, of the four who set foot on Paradis, Reiner alone had returned alive.
"Rest. Fifteen minutes," Zeke ordered, turning from them.
"Only—only a quarter of an hour?" Reiner's voice cracked with disbelief.
Zeke's gaze pinned him again. "You want to live long enough to see your mother again, don't you?"
Reiner swallowed hard, unable to answer. The words were heavier than the threat itself.
Zeke crouched and gathered dry branches, striking flint until sparks caught. A fire flickered to life, its glow painting tired faces in shades of orange. The young warriors sat in silence around it, tearing into the hard biscuits and compressed rations they had carried.
Zeke, however, stayed quiet. He had left his share with the condemned prisoners earlier. Now, he only drank water, unwilling to take food from his charges.
Reiner sat apart, gnawing his palm in frustration. No matter how hard he bit, the fire never came. He could not transform.
Marcel remained at his side, murmuring words of encouragement. His presence was steady, like an anchor in Reiner's storm of panic.
Then Bertolt approached quietly. His lanky figure cast a long shadow as he extended a small piece of ration bread toward Zeke.
"Captain… here."
Zeke blinked, surprised. A kind boy. Thoughtful. But the thought of stealing food from children twisted his stomach.
He shook his head and pushed the offering back.
Bertolt hesitated, then drew a deep breath. "Captain, we've already crossed half of Paradis Island at this pace, haven't we?"
Zeke paused. "…Yes." His eyes flicked to Reiner again. "By the original plan, we would have seen the Walls by dawn. But with these delays, we won't arrive until tomorrow afternoon." His sigh was heavy.
Bertolt nodded once, then offered his ration again. "Then take mine. We'll be at the Walls tomorrow. The food won't matter after that. Please eat, Captain."
Zeke studied him. The boy's voice wavered, but his resolve was clear. For a moment, Zeke saw something more than weakness in him. He accepted the ration this time and bit into it without hesitation.
Bertolt watched him, then asked softly, "Captain… you seem very familiar with this place."
Zeke didn't answer immediately.
His silence was answer enough.
Even walking in a straight line through unknown terrain, he had never faltered.
"Have you… been here before?" Bertolt pressed.
"Mm." Zeke gave the faintest nod.
"When?"
"About a week ago." Zeke chuckled under his breath. The irony burned—his last life, the Rumbling, the end of the world—for him, it had been less than a week.
Bertolt's eyes widened. "A week ago? But… Captain, you were with us then. At the meeting. The superiors said no one had set foot here for a hundred years since King Fritz fled. So… how could you know the way?"
Suspicion hung in the air.
But Zeke remained calm, his mask unshakable. He waved it off. "A military secret. Naturally, I can't tell you more."
"A… secret?" Bertolt faltered, still baffled.
Zeke pulled out his pocket watch. The second hand ticked forward. The quarter hour was up.
He turned. Reiner still hadn't transformed. His hands were bloody, his face desperate.
What went wrong? In his memories, Reiner had been the one who survived. The strongest, the most enduring. Why now, when it mattered most, did he crumble?
The last second passed. Zeke snapped the watch shut.
"Reiner!" His voice cracked like a whip.
Reiner jumped to his feet, heels clicking together. "H-here, sir!" His voice was tight with terror.
Every eye turned on him. He stood in the firelight, shaking. Everyone knew what failure meant. The Empire did not tolerate useless warriors.
Zeke's gaze was heavy with disappointment. He raised his hand slightly. If Reiner couldn't serve, then better to strip the Titan power now—destroy the threat before it ever touched the Walls. If he did, then Eren's family would never—
"Captain!"
Marcel moved. His boots scraped the dirt as he planted himself in front of Reiner. His chest heaved with urgency, his voice ringing into the night.
"I have something to report!"