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Chapter 9

During the four months that had passed since Ryo transformed into a Titan, that night had changed everything for Ryo Ackerman.

His memory still clung to that moment...

The moment he emerged from the nape of a Titan he didn't even recognize, a Titan born from the belly of another, formed out of pain, blood, and fate.

But Ryo was no longer the same person.

He had not only changed physically, but inside, he had become someone else... someone carrying something in his heart he couldn't explain, a fury that wouldn't die, and sleepless eyes.

In the four months following that incident, Ryo devoted his entire life to one goal: training to eliminate Titans and uncover the secret behind the power flowing through his body.

Every night, when the city slept and the lights in the houses dimmed, Ryo would put on the heavy gear, tighten the straps around his waist and chest, and slip out quietly through his window, first checking to make sure his mother was asleep. Then he would dart into the dark alleys, like a shadow unseen.

Sometimes, he climbed the island's inner walls, stopping atop one of the high towers that oversaw the surroundings, then jumped—pulled the trigger—and launched himself into the air with a speed that cut the wind, gliding between buildings like a dancer in a storm.

He had become skilled...

More than that, he had mastered the art of flying between life and death.

One night, he decided to test something new.

He approached Wall Maria and climbed it quietly as he had done many times before, but this time, he exited beyond it.

Into the forbidden world.

He searched... and searched for hours, soaring above the dark forests, not feeling fatigue, as if something within him pushed him forward.

And finally, he found it.

The first Titan.

It crawled between the trees, slow and silent, as if in slumber.

But Ryo didn't hesitate.

As soon as he locked eyes on it, he launched into the sky, soared above it, then dived behind it, slicing the nape with lightning speed.

The strike passed like a breeze.

The Titan fell without even realizing what struck it.

Ryo wasn't stained by a drop of blood.

He moved faster than even his own body could predict, as if a hidden force was guiding him—as if the Ackerman blood within him had finally awakened.

(For those who think this is too much for a ten-year-old to do—remember: Eren, without any supernatural power or being an Ackerman, killed two men who kidnapped Mikasa when he was ten. Ryo, having awakened his Ackerman power, killing a Titan with ease and without fear is entirely justified.)

Night after night, Ryo left the wall, slaying slumbering Titans one after another... without mercy, without hesitation.

He would dodge, circle, strike, retreat, rise from above, then vanish among the trees, like a ghost bearing the end of every Titan.

He didn't want anyone to know—neither his mother, nor Eren, nor Mikasa, not even Armin.

This was his fight—his path to vengeance, to truth, to what awaited beyond the shadows.

And each time, after every battle, he returned quietly. Cleaned his gear, watched the city from the treetops, and whispered softly:

"Father... I will keep my promise."

But today, the day when the island of Paradis would begin to witness true horror, Ryo did not leave the wall—he stayed home to avoid raising suspicions.

...

Eren Yeager and Mikasa Ackerman walked slowly down the dirt road, having just finished their heated exchange with Hannes and his drunken comrades, each carrying a bundle of firewood on their backs.

The silence between them was comforting, like the calm before a storm.

Eren suddenly sighed and said:

"The wood seems heavier than usual... or maybe I've just gotten weaker."

Mikasa smiled faintly without turning to him.

But before she could respond, the loud clang of a bell echoed from atop the city walls.

Without warning... the announcement resounded.

"The Scout Regiment has returned! The Survey Corps is back from their mission!"

Eren froze in place, a look of excitement lighting his face—something Mikasa hadn't seen in days.

"They're back... the heroes!" He said eagerly, gripping Mikasa's hand.

"The victorious heroes have returned!" shouted the dreaming boy who hadn't yet been tainted by betrayal.

He pulled her by the hand and began to run...

Running with all he had, as if his heart was racing ahead of his feet.

They reached a crossroads where the crowd gathered like a river flowing toward a single point.

There was a slightly raised platform, with a large, worn-out wooden crate atop it.

Without hesitation, Eren climbed onto it, and Mikasa followed.

From afar, they saw the Survey Corps entering through the main gate of the wall…

But the sight was not what he had imagined.

There were no groups of heroes raising swords to the sky, no bright faces celebrating a glorious victory.

Only bowed heads, silent and dark.

They walked with heavy steps.

One walked with a single arm, the other wrapped in a bloodied bandage.

Another's face was split and covered in gauze, others limped with untreated wounds.

Blood dried on their clothes. Their eyes were vacant, as if they had seen something no one should see.

One man carried the severed head of a comrade in a black bag.

Eren gasped, as if the air had vanished from his lungs.

His eyes widened, and his hands trembled as he said:

"What... what is this...?"

Mikasa didn't answer.

But she saw what he saw.

Reality.

No glory... no victory... only survival, bound to luck.

They heard one of the nearby men say:

"Oh... again, so few made it back."

"Yeah... over a hundred left, and now... less than twenty return?"

Another whispered:

"It was a massacre, in every sense of the word."

A third added:

"They couldn't even retrieve their comrades' bodies... the Titans devoured them all."

The silence fell upon Eren's heart like a blade.

His eyes remained fixed on the weary soldiers, but his gaze had changed.

All his dreams of glory beyond the wall, of facing Titans, of reclaiming the land...

All of them began to crack.

But he didn't waver.

As the footsteps of the Survey Corps faded into the crowd, a sharp wail echoed through the noise.

A woman's voice, broken and shattered, pierced the hum of the marketplace and onlookers.

"The Survey Corps... where is my son?! I don't see him with you!!"

She rushed forward madly toward the front of the procession.

"Where's Braun?! Where is he?!"

A woman in her late forties, disheveled hair, tear-filled eyes that hadn't known dryness for days.

She clutched the chest plate of the squad captain—Brollo, a man who barely stepped out from the shadows of his superiors.

"Where is he?! Please tell me!!" she screamed, trembling from head to toe.

Brollo froze, turned to his comrades and said weakly:

"It's... Braun's mother... bring the bag."

A soldier hesitantly bowed his head and handed Brollo a black, cloth-covered bag.

He held it with trembling hands and extended it toward the mother.

Her hand shook violently as she opened the bag.

A moment... then a scream that shook the walls:

"Aaaaahhh! My son!!!"

It was a human hand… Frozen, blue, severed from mid-forearm.

She collapsed to the ground, hugging the hand to her chest as if it were still a part of her son, then looked up at the captain with teary, torn eyes and cried:

"But... tell me... my son... he was useful, wasn't he?!"

She begged. Clinging to any shred of hope that would make her son's death meaningful.

"He wasn't the best! Not the strongest!! But he tried!!"

"Please... just tell me he contributed to something… anything!"

Brollo froze.

He looked at his shattered comrades, then into her pleading eyes, and said without thinking:

"Of course..."

But before he could continue, he bowed his head, clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, and said in a broken voice:

"No... this mission was a complete failure."

"We accomplished nothing... we didn't find their source, we didn't reclaim land, we didn't even understand how they move..."

"All we did... was send our men to their deaths."

Silence... silence like the world had stopped breathing.

Even Mikasa and Eren stood frozen, shock painted on their faces.

At the edge of the crowd, a bystander said with bitter sarcasm:

"They'd have been better off staying inside the walls."

"Our taxes are wasted on them! Just free meals for Titans."

Another man with a thick mustache shook his head and said:

"Exactly… those vagrants are just wasting our money and bringing sorrow."

Suddenly...

BOOM!!

The sound of a stone crashing interrupted the conversation...

The mustached man staggered backward, blood streaming from his head.

"What the—?! Who did that, you bastard?!"

Everyone turned to see Eren Yeager, his eyes blazing with rage, his breath rapid.

He was shouting, his face tense like a bowstring pulled to its limit.

Mikasa grabbed him quickly, pulling him back.

"Eren! Stop!!"

She dragged him a few steps back until he was pressed against a wooden wall, firewood tumbling from his back and scattering on the ground.

Eren shouted:

"Mikasa! Why'd you do that?! The wood!!"

But she didn't respond.

She looked at him directly, eyes steady, and asked:

"Eren... do you still want to join the Survey Corps? After all this? After what you just saw?"

Eren fell silent for a moment... He hesitated... his heart felt like it was being crushed in his chest.

But he slowly raised his head, fire still burning in his eyes, and said with confidence:

"Yes. Nothing has changed."

"In fact… now I know the full truth."

"The Titans won't disappear on their own…"

"And I... will wipe them out. Every last one of them."

Mikasa looked at him with concern, but he continued:

"I hate them… I hate them because they take everything from us. And I won't live

in fear anymore."

Silence returned again.

But it was clear...

Eren had chosen his path.

To be continued...