"Tch… them…" Zeke muttered, lips curling into a sneer.
He wanted to say they didn't matter—that if anyone blocked his path, he would crush them without hesitation.
But when he opened his mouth, no words came out.
He clenched his fists, jaw tight. Why can't I just say it?
A sigh came from the other side of the door.
"Zeke," Grisha said softly, "being able to see the future isn't always a blessing. You'll come to realize that every choice leads to a different path, and every path demands a sacrifice. No matter what you choose, someone will suffer. Someone will die."
Zeke froze. "You— you're acting like this because you've seen everything, aren't you?!"
He remembered the moment his father hugged him—how Grisha had suddenly seemed older, heavier, as if he'd seen all time at once.
Not fragments anymore.
Not glimpses of Eren's memories.
But the whole future.
Zeke had assumed Eren had only shown him selective memories—snippets to guide Grisha into the actions that benefited him.
Manipulation.
Deception.
A cruel trick to corner his father into one single outcome.
How despicable…
But if Grisha had truly seen everything…
Then no wonder he had collapsed.
Just like Eren himself—driven mad by the weight of too many futures.
Grisha's voice wavered. "Zeke, if you can't accept loss, you'll never gain the ending you seek… I'm sorry, my son. Your father… is a cowardly, mediocre man."
He paused, then added quietly, "But if it's you—and Eren—you two might be able to do it."
Zeke pressed his forehead to the door, breathing hard.
"Make your choice boldly," Grisha continued. "When you have power—when you stand at the top of the world—remember: right or wrong, every choice carries meaning. Everyone makes mistakes. But you… you're already brave enough just to choose. So even if it's wrong, move forward. No one has the right to condemn you."
His tone softened, almost like he was smiling through tears. "By the way, Zeke… I have good news."
Zeke frowned. "What good news?"
"No matter how many futures Eren and I have seen—a thousand, ten thousand—you aren't in any of them."
"What…?"
"In other words," Grisha said, voice breaking, "your presence right now is special. You're outside the path. If it's you… maybe you can create a new future. One that neither Eren nor I could ever see."
He choked back a sob. "So please—save Eren. Save Eldia. If you truly are Dina's son…"
The words dissolved into crying. "I'm a terrible father. Even now, I'm asking you to shoulder this burden. But… some things only you can do, and some only Eren can. No one person can change the whole world alone. So…"
"So please, Zeke—work with Eren. Save Eldia. If it were you, I know you could do it!"
Zeke's body trembled. Something cold and dreadful ran down his spine. He pounded on the door with a snarl.
"Enough! Stop crying behind the door and come out here like a man!"
But before he could say more—
The voice on the other side changed.
The tone, the cadence—no longer his father's sorrowful murmur.
Now it was sharp, impatient. Familiar.
"Then come and stop me," the voice said.
"Use up your whole life… Brother."
Zeke's blood ran cold.
That word—brother—cut through him like lightning.
"Eren?!"
He yanked at the door handle. "Eren! What are you doing?! Don't you dare use Father's body like a puppet! Let him go! He's just a doctor, not your soldier!"
"Eren!"
"Dad!"
"Grisha!"
Silence.
Zeke slammed his fists against the door again and again until his knuckles split.
"Grisha! Don't let him control you! Don't touch my brother, do you hear me?! Don't—!"
No answer came.
Just the echo of his own voice.
And then realization struck him like thunder.
Grisha had vanished.
He must have gone to find Eren—gone to pass on the Founder.
"No…" Zeke whispered.
He had thought he'd changed it all—that this time, Grisha wouldn't fall apart and drag Eren to the woods to inherit the Titan.
He'd thought things would finally be different.
But then he remembered Grisha's words:
"Whether it's Eren's choice or yours… I will lose a wife today."
It wasn't Carla he'd meant.
It was Dina.
Zeke's breath hitched. "He… he's going to kill himself."
"I love Carla and Eren… but I also love Dina and you."
Liar.
You liar!
The words tore through his mind again and again. Everything he'd done—all his efforts to change the future—meant nothing if Eren still inherited the Titan here.
He staggered backward, fury shaking his hands. Then, with a roar, he kicked the door.
CLANG!
The impact reverberated, but the door didn't move. Instead, pain exploded through his leg.
"Damn it! What kind of cheap inn builds a door this strong?!" He hopped on one foot, clutching his shin, cursing.
There was no breaking it down by force.
His eyes flicked toward his bleeding hand.
Grisha's warning echoed in his head:
"If you transform here, the children around you will be caught up in it! The Scouts are everywhere!"
Like I care about that, he thought bitterly.
But hesitation gnawed at him anyway. If he transformed now, two Titans would tear apart this city. There'd be no escape for either of them.
Yet doing nothing meant Eren would take everything again.
He looked at his palm—at the faint scars that never healed.
"Eren… not this time."
He bit down hard on his hand.
Blood hit the floor.
And then—
The world trembled.