Yesterday's Enemy [AoT]

MEMOIRS OF HAVAS [18]

'Strength is not always a measure of survivability. The soldier is encouraged to fight the tides that seek to break him, never to buckle or yield. But it is often that our survivor moves with the current instead of resists it.'

-An extract from traditional Havasian scriptures.

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MEMOIRS OF HAVAS

18

Somewhere in North-Western Titan Country

Warren couldn't believe what he was seeing.

He'd only been gone only a minute... he'd rushed back when he had heard an explosion. Just a few minutes ago, the glade had been quiet; his fellow survivors had been at ease in the summer heat.

And now... all twelve of them lay dead in the grass. The boys he had spent the last year with, all with full lives, wants, and regrets— gone in just an instant.

Their blood stained the grass copper as it seeped into the earth. Most were barely recognisable; their faces smashed in against the cliff face.

Those faces had been smiling when he'd left.

Unconsciously, Warren dropped his hunting kit. His breath was loud and erratic in his ear.

Just a few feet away, his eyes wide and lifeless, Schmidt lay dead, a great gash carved into the back of his skull. His normally scowling face was blank, still with the quiet of death.

In just the blink of an eye... all of them gone.

Schmidt had been all Warren had left. He had pulled him from the rubble, given him a chance out here. His last friend, gone, just like that.

The four killers turned his way. He recognised them instantly.

Warren hadn't wanted to believe it— humans, kids no less, that could turn into titans? It had all seemed a little farfetched. But now, seeing Marcel emerge from a titan's body, he could no longer deny it.

Those four children he had met in the military base that day... had destroyed his home, taken everything. And now they'd taken Schmidt too, his last friend in this world.

Warren wanted to cry, to grieve, to scream out his frustrations. And he might have, once, when he was young and tender. But by now... loss was an old friend.

There grew a detachment from such things over the years. Warren didn't know how many friends he'd lost, and he didn't care to count. He had better things to do than start bawling on a battlefield.

His heart was still beating, his shallow breathing still constant in his ear. And that meant Warren wasn't out of the game yet.

He'd taken some heavy losses, but that didn't matter; Warren had always been a survivor. Every time, he'd claw his way out of hell's gates with his bare hands if he had to. And that was exactly what he'd do again.

This wasn't checkmate yet. He was still in the game.

"Lord Krüger," Reiner stuttered. His blue eyes were wide and frightened.

Warren couldn't fathom how one could be so powerful and yet look so scared.

"I remember you." Warren's voice was steady. It startled the four of them. "You blew up my city. And now you've killed my comrades."

Annie put out a hand to hold back Reiner, but it was no use.

"It was an accident!" he exclaimed. "We didn't mean to hurt anyone. No, we wanted to save you!"