"Then I will… break your legs."
Zeke leaned forward, voice low and cold, his words slicing through the air like a blade.
After being reborn, he had done everything he could to change fate—to give Eren a peaceful life.
If that child still insisted on throwing it away, then breaking his legs might be the only way left to save him.
Eren stared at him, speechless. His brother—his idol—wasn't supposed to say something so cruel.
Even the others were stunned. Bertolt blinked, whispering under his breath,
"Captain… No, Big Brother doesn't have a weird filter this time??"
So this was what Zeke was like without kindness clouding his words.
Before the shock could fade, a sneering voice cut in:
"'Hero Brother' is right," said the man who had mocked them at the inn earlier. "If you step outside those walls, kid, you'll just get your legs broken—one way or another. Take my advice: stay put, don't join those idiots in the Survey Corps. Didn't you see how few came back this time? They look like a pack of stray dogs, tails between their legs."
Eren turned, trembling. The man smirked wider.
"Not everyone gets to be a hero, brat. I heard the fresh recruits barely make it out of the gate before being eaten. Not even bones left behind. What, you think you'll survive your first trip outside?"
"I—"
The images came flooding back.
The red night sky.
The screams.
The smell of blood and fire.
He saw again the people running, the Titians chasing, the desperate hands reaching out—
"Save me… save me…"
The voice of a woman whose body was already half gone, crawling across the ground toward them.
And Hannes, face twisted in guilt, shouting "I'm sorry!" as he turned away, carrying Carla and dragging two terrified children behind him.
Eren clenched his fists until they shook. He hated it—hated that memory, hated his own helplessness, hated how small he'd been when the world crumbled around him.
"You look like the kind who'd die the moment you stepped outside," the guest mocked. "Better to stay a coward. At least you'll live. Isn't that right, 'honorable' soldiers?"
The sneer turned toward the Survey Corps members standing nearby.
"You!" one of them shouted, face turning red with rage.
Without warning, Farlan stepped forward—and punched the man squarely in the jaw.
The guest flew backward, crashing into the middle of the returning Survey Corps formation.
"Whoa!" A startled horse reared, nearly trampling him.
"Hey! What's going on!?" Keith Shadis barked, spinning around.
A soldier straightened his back, slammed a fist to his chest, and shouted, "Captain! I'm Farlan, a new recruit under Captain Erwin! I struck a civilian! It's my fault, I'll accept punishment!"
Then, without hesitation, he kicked the man again.
Keith: "???"
Before he could respond, a flash of bright red hair darted out of the crowd. Isabel leapt forward, boots flying.
"Hey—Isabel!"
But Farlan was already kicking again. Isabel joined him, landing another blow with perfect timing.
"Hey! You two!" Keith shouted, horrified.
"Reporting to the Captain!" Isabel yelled mid-swing, "I'm Isabel, a new recruit under Captain Erwin! I hit a civilian too! I'm wrong and I'll accept the punishment when we return—but I'm not stopping now!"
She pounced, tackling the man to the ground.
"I'm getting punished anyway, so I might as well make it worth it!" she yelled furiously.
"Wha—?!"
Before anyone could stop her, another figure darted out—a small one this time—and her kick landed heavier than either of theirs.
"Mikasa?!" Isabel blinked, stunned.
The dark-haired girl stood over the terrified guest, eyes burning. "Aunt Carla, I'll admit my mistake later—but before that, I'm giving this man a beating!"
Carla: "Huh???"
Within seconds, the situation exploded into chaos.
"Stop it! Stop!" Eren, Armin, and several Survey Corps members scrambled to separate the three furious girls, dragging them back as the crowd shouted in shock.
"Mikasa!" Carla scolded, stunned that the quiet, polite girl could strike with such force.
"I'm sorry, Auntie," Mikasa said meekly, bowing her head. "I was wrong."
Carla could only stand there, speechless.
Farlan and Isabel were hauled aside, awaiting punishment. But before Keith could even open his mouth, the bloodied guest staggered to his feet, screaming, "The Survey Corps assaulted me! In broad daylight! In front of everyone! Is this how you treat civilians? There's no law left in this city! I'll file a complaint! I demand justice!"
"Why did you hit him?" Keith snapped, glaring at his soldiers.
"He insulted the Survey Corps!" Farlan shouted back, fists still clenched.
"Insulted you?" the guest spat. "You deserve it! You're all failures! We pay taxes to see results, not funerals! Every time you leave the walls, half of you don't come back! What did you ever bring us in return? What useful thing have you ever found?"
His words ignited the crowd like dry grass catching flame.
"Yeah! The Survey Corps is useless!"
"Wasting our money just to die outside the walls!"
"Do you think our taxes grow on trees?"
"You've gone out there dozens of times and haven't brought back a single useful thing!"
"Give our money back!"
"Yeah, pay us back!"
"You—!" Keith's face went pale as he saw the mob swelling, voices rising into fury.
Every time the Survey Corps failed, they returned under the weight of silent contempt. But this—this was open hatred. A storm of anger they couldn't fight back against.
And they couldn't fight. Not against civilians. Not against the very people they swore to protect.
Keith gritted his teeth as the crowd pressed closer, shouting for refunds, for punishment, for blood.
Then, suddenly—
A clear, defiant voice rang out from the back of the line:
"Who said we didn't gain anything this time?"
All eyes turned toward the speaker.
"We brought back a lot," the voice continued, steady and confident. "Look."
And as the crowd parted, something—or someone—stepped forward that made even the angriest citizen fall silent.
...
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