Juliet Diekman is the daughter of a well-respected Marleyan scientist who works alongside the military.
In a new proposal, he is asked to go on an expedition to Paradis for research purposes before planning their big attack. He agrees, only if his b...
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ONE YEAR LATER
The airship soared gracefully over the tumultuous battlefield, its sleek, white hull gleaming ominously in the light of the sun. Below, the ground was a chaotic tapestry of destruction, with craters and shattered remnants of once-proud landscapes now a war-torn wasteland. As shots rang out, the airship shuddered with the reverberations of cannon fire, its engines humming a deep, resonant drone that seemed to underscore the relentless cacophony of war.
Dust swirled and billowed in massive plumes, filling the air with a gritty haze that clung to every surface and stung the eyes of those still fighting below.
The Jaw Titan, its small figure allowing it to move swiftly, thundered across the battlefield. Each leap it took was an opportunity to crush anything in its path—soldiers, machines, and fortifications alike—underneath its sharp, clawed feet and hands.
Its masked face pierced through the din of battle, a chilling, primal view that struck fear into the hearts of all enemy soldiers who heard it. The Jaw's diminutive form moved with both brute force and a disturbing grace, swatting away enemies as if they were mere insects.
Amidst the constant rumble of the airship's engines and the distant echoes of battle, a Marleyan soldier pulled the phone line away from his ear, his face a mask of determination.
With a swift, practiced motion, he turned to his comrades, his voice cutting through the surrounding noise with a clear, authoritative tone, "Our forces have disabled the armored train. We can now commence the airborne assault. The plan from this point is straightforward. Zeke will be our spear, Juliet our arrow, and Reiner our shield."
Soldiers were strapped into harnesses that restricted their movement, their bodies hanging in mid-air, ready for the imminent drop into the battlefield below. The harnesses, suspended from sturdy metal rails, swayed slightly with the movement of the airship, a silent dance of preparation and waiting.
As the battle raged below, a new terror emerged from the swirling dust and smoke. The Cart Titan charged onto the battlefield with thunderous stomps. The Cart with a hulking mass of muscle and sinew, had heavy machinery strapped to its broad back.
Gleaming metal plates strengthened its back and a menacing array of machine guns swiveled with mechanical precision as the soldiers on its back controlled it. As it advanced, the mounted weaponry sprang to life, spitting fire and lead in all directions. Soldiers scattered, diving for cover as the bullets unleashed a relentless barrage, tearing through ranks and fortifications with ruthless efficiency.
Amidst the chaos and relentless onslaught, a single flare gun was raised skyward, its muzzle aimed at the clouds. With a loud crack, it discharged, sending a brilliant flare arcing through the sky.
Soldiers on the battlefield, eyes drawn to the unmistakable beacon, recognized the order immediately: it was time to retreat.
Bodies that had been poised for combat now turned and ran, feet pounding against the scorched earth. The retreat was a mixture of orderly haste and desperate scrambling, as soldiers dove for cover, sprinting towards the relative safety of their trenches.
