Echoes of the Past

Eren's breath came in quick, shallow gasps as the arena's ground shifted once more. The temperature plummeted, and the harsh winds carried an eerie howling from somewhere far beyond the walls. But it was the low rumble beneath his feet that made his skin crawl. The Crucible wasn't just alive—it was watching him. Waiting.

His sword was heavy in his hand, though it had only just begun to feel like it was his. Every strike, every move felt unfamiliar, like an instinct he couldn't fully trust. He had been here before—he could feel it in his bones—but the memories were fractured, like shattered glass. His mind screamed at him to remember, but each attempt left him with nothing but a gnawing emptiness.

A voice crackled from the speakers above, cold and detached. "Contestant #7, your trial begins now."

Eren's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword as the ground trembled. The shifting terrain beneath his feet turned from cracked stone to a barren wasteland, the air thick with ash. The heat of the sun was gone, replaced by a stifling, oppressive fog that swallowed everything in sight.

And then he saw it. A figure emerging from the mist—tall, armored, and menacing. The warhammer it carried gleamed with a blood-red light. It was a figure Eren had faced before, in another cycle. His pulse quickened as a fragment of memory flashed in his mind—the last time I was here, it wasn't just a fight. It was a reckoning.

The armored figure's glowing eyes locked onto him, the same cold, merciless gaze that had haunted his nightmares. "You don't remember, do you, Eren Vale?" the figure growled, its voice like grinding stone. "But you will. Just like last time."

Eren's heart skipped a beat, a sickening chill spreading through him. The memories… they were coming back. Bit by bit, fragment by fragment. Each piece was like a puzzle that didn't quite fit, but it was enough to make him question everything.

Who am I? The thought echoed in his mind like a scream in the void.

The figure raised its warhammer, the weapon crackling with dark energy, and swung it downward with terrifying force. Eren barely dodged, rolling to the side as the ground where he had stood cracked open in a violent explosion of rocks and flame. His body screamed in protest, but he couldn't stop now. Not when there was so much at stake.

Survive. Survive. Survive.

It was the only command that mattered. But even as Eren focused on evading the next blow, the whispers of forgotten memories clawed at him. Faces he couldn't place. A betrayal he couldn't understand. The winner doesn't become a god. The thought sliced through his mind like a blade. They become a vessel.

The truth crashed down on him, cold and brutal. The prize wasn't godhood—it was the agonizing fate of becoming a pawn in the game of the dying deities who ran this place.

No. The word burned in his chest, the desire to resist, to break free from this nightmare pushing him forward.

He dodged again, rolling to his feet just as the warhammer crashed into the ground, sending a shockwave of debris through the air. The armored figure loomed over him, a sneer curling beneath its helm.

"You think you can escape this?" it mocked, its voice like thunder. "You can't. Not this time."

Eren's sword was heavy in his hand, but he was growing accustomed to it. His grip was steady now, his movements more fluid, even as his body protested. The memories were coming faster now—flickers of a time before this moment, a face from a past cycle, a friend who had been his ally and his rival. Jace. The name whispered through his mind.

Jace... Eren's heart clenched. The last time they had fought together in the Crucible, Jace had been the one to win—only to be consumed by the same fate Eren now faced. But in the last moments, Jace had whispered something to him, something that Eren couldn't remember.

He couldn't remember because it was wiped away by the Arena, over and over again.

Eren's resolve hardened. This time, it would be different. He would survive, not just to escape, but to break the cycle.

With a roar, he surged forward, sword raised high. The armored figure swung its warhammer in retaliation, but Eren was faster. This time, he anticipated the strike. With a swift motion, he deflected the hammer, and with a roar of power he didn't fully understand, drove his sword toward the crack in the figure's armor.

The blow landed, but instead of the satisfying resistance of flesh, it felt like striking stone. The figure staggered back, its glowing eyes flickering.

"You think this is enough?" the figure snarled, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in its voice.

Eren stepped back, his breath ragged. His heart pounded in his chest, but something inside him felt different now. The power within him—this strange, raw energy—was beginning to coalesce. It was more than just survival. It was a chance to rewrite the rules of the Crucible. And this time, he would not forget.

The figure roared and charged, but Eren was ready. This time, he was going to break the cycle, no matter the cost.