As the darkness fades, you find yourself stuck in a new world - one that you know more about than you're willing to admit.
Will you be able to change the tragic fate Paradis is destined to fall victim to?
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Year 847 | Age 12. Trost District, Wall Rose.
Three years had passed, and the time to join the Training Corps arrived. Your bond with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin had only grown stronger over time. They had indeed kept coming to your house, though not every day, despite Eren's constant complains about it. Mikasa had been firm, insisting that the more they risked sneaking out of the camps, the greater the change of getting caught was. You did agree with her, so it was settled—they would come over once a week for meals. In return, you made regular visits to the refugee camp, bringing blankets and even new clothes after you were able to talk to your father about their situation. As you had expected, he was more than willing to help.
Over time, the four of you became inseparable. Eren had become attached to your hip ever since that first meal at your house. Armin's kind nature made it easy to become close friends with him. The real surprise was Mikasa. She didn't talk much when you were around, but as the time passed, you noticed the small gestures—her way of sticking by you, her quiet presence that indicated that she at least tolerated you somehow. Eren and Armin also did a good job at reassuring you that she indeed liked you, she just had trouble expressing it.
The year 846 was as brutal as you had expected. Almost twenty percept of the population perished in the so-called 'Recover Wall Maria' mission. Watching it unfold, knowing it was coming but being powerless to stop it, left you feeling hollow. It was beyond upsetting—it was enraging. The sheer waste of life, it haunted you.
Among the victims was Armin's grandfather. The memory stuck with you, a painful scar etched deep into your mind,
. . .
One year before (Year 846) | Age 11. Trost District, Wall Rose.
The four of you sat in an isolated corner of Trost, but the usual lighthearted atmosphere was nowhere to be found. The air was heavy, thick with grief. You sat next to Armin, who gripped his grandfather's hat like it was the only thing tethering him to the world. Silent tears ran down his face, soaking the brim of the worn-out hat. You wanted so badly to wrap your arms around him, to tell him that everything would be alright, that you would look after him now. But the guilt crushed you. You had known this would happen. You had known his grandfather was walking to his death, and you did nothing. It would feel like a mockery if you were the one to comfort him. So, you stayed silent, pressing your back against the cold, dirty wall, letting the guilt swallow you whole.
"It's all because of the Titans." Eren's voice cut through the silence, yanking you out of the spiral of your thoughts. "If we destroy them, we can take back our home." He crouched down beside Armin, eyes blazing with that unyielding determination you had learned to admire. You wanted to tell him the truth—that it wasn't just the Titans. That there were people behind this, systems and schemes, more culprits than he could ever imagine. But telling him wouldn't change anything. Not now. Not yet.
