Titans were supposed to be invincible.
Their regeneration was overwhelming—cut off a hand, and it grew back; slice open their stomach, and the wound stitched itself together in moments. That was why nations across the sea had developed massive anti-Titan weaponry: cannons the size of carriages, rockets that could reduce even a fifteen-meter Titan to a heap of steaming chunks. The rule was simple—blast them into pieces faster than they could regenerate.
At least, that was the assumption outside these Walls.
But what Reiner, Bertolt, and Annie had just witnessed shattered that belief.
The Survey Corps hadn't used cannons.
They hadn't fired artillery or rockets. They had killed a Titan with nothing but two gleaming blades. A single strike at the nape, and the monster had collapsed into steaming ash.
Reiner's eyes bulged in disbelief. "A-as expected of the devils! They know exactly where a Titan's weakness is!"
Bertolt swallowed hard, sweat dripping down his face. "Good thing we didn't transform… If we had, we'd be the ones cut down instead."
Annie, normally composed, clenched her fists. Her voice trembled as she whispered,
"Demons… true demons. They killed a Titan in seconds. If we fight them… sooner or later, they'll kill us too."
"…," Zeke muttered. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, exasperated. These kids are supposed to be warriors, but a squad of rookies with swords is enough to scare them senseless.
The real reason he hadn't let them transform was simpler: he didn't want a repeat of history. Reiner's impulsiveness had once driven him to panic, breaking through the Wall and unleashing endless Titans into the city.
Zeke wasn't about to let things spiral that way again.
But there was no time for reflection. The ground thundered. Shadows loomed.
A group of Titans had encircled Isabel, Fran, and Tom—who'd lost their horses and were stranded on the field. The Titans' mouths gaped, their hot breath rolling over the terrified recruits.
"Fight!" the nearby Survey Corps soldiers roared. They yanked their reins, turned their horses, and shot their grapple hooks into Titan flesh.
Gas hissed, launching them into the air. Using the Titans' own bodies as anchor points, they wove through the battlefield like hawks diving for prey.
Reiner and Bertolt stared slack-jawed. "They… they actually made something like that? Mortals flying in the air, tethered to monsters?!"
Even Annie's eyes widened. She had trained with the Marley military, had seen weapons that shook the world—but never anything so reckless and ingenious.
Zeke wasn't surprised.
He had been on the receiving end of those blades in another life. The memory of steel biting into Titan flesh was etched into him.
One soldier skidded close to the carriage, tossing a flare gun into Zeke's lap. "When you reach the gate, fire a smoke round! The guards will see it and open it for you!" Without waiting for a reply, the trooper whipped his reins, wheeling back toward the chaos.
The cart jolted as the horses, spurred by a slap to their flanks, surged forward.
Zeke's eyes lingered on the soldier's back until it vanished into the swarm of Titans. The bravest of mankind… even knowing they can't win, they fight anyway.
Reiner clutched the flare gun, face alight. "We're saved! Captain, you were right—now we can get into the city with no problem! Brilliant!"
But Zeke's response wasn't celebration. It was a command:
"Assemble the sniper rifle. Prepare for battle."
"…What?" Reiner froze. Surely he had misheard.
But no. Zeke was already unrolling a bundle from his bag, pulling out steel parts with practiced ease. Click. Snap. Twist. The weapon came together swiftly in his hands.
Annie, frowning but dutiful, began assembling her own. Her movements were slower, clumsier—but steady.
"Annie, what are you doing?!" Reiner gawked. "Don't tell me you're helping the devils too!"
She gave him a cool, confused look. "No. I'm following the captain's orders."
Zeke smirked. Good soldier. I like that one.
"Bertolt!" he barked. "Hold the reins. Don't go further."
"B-but Captain, the city's right ahead! We can get in!" Bertolt protested weakly. His hands, however, had already moved, grabbing the reins as ordered.
Zeke locked the rifle's bolt with a sharp clack. His eyes narrowed on the battlefield. "Listen well, kids. Don't do anything you'll regret."
Reiner's jaw clenched. "I'll never regret killing these demons!"
"Oh?" Zeke's lips curled. "Funny. Because in the future, someone ends up so wracked with regret, he puts a gun in his mouth more than once."
"W-what?!" Reiner stammered. "That's not me!"
Zeke leveled his gaze at him. "It's you."
Reiner faltered, the words stabbing deeper than he wanted to admit.
Because the truth Zeke remembered—the one only he carried—was cruel. The "Breaking the Wall" mission wasn't a glorious strike against monsters. It was children, barely more than recruits, unleashing hell on innocent civilians. They hadn't understood what war truly was. By the time they did, the streets were already filled with bodies.
Reiner had carried that guilt for the rest of his life, splitting himself in two—loyal warrior, guilty soldier. Marley's weapon, Paradis's protector.
Torn apart by contradictions until death seemed easier than living.
And here he was again, a boy on the edge of choices that would scar his soul.
"Don't repeat it," Zeke said, voice low but sharp. "Don't walk the same path of regret." He lifted the rifle, sighting down the scope at the nape of a Titan. His finger tightened on the trigger.
Bang!
The shot cracked across the field.