Glass Heart Syndrome

Chapter 47

The victory over Azrael brought a sense of calm to Ezura's streets. For the first time in years, the city breathed freely, and the people felt the weight of fear lift ever so slightly. But peace was fragile, and within the cracks of victory, new threats were already taking root.

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Eren sat in his makeshift quarters overlooking the city, the dawn's first light casting long shadows through the room. He surveyed the map laid out before him, marked with pins and scrawled notes detailing the power dynamics across Ezura. Azrael's death had left a vacuum, and if Eren didn't act fast, it would be filled by others hungry for control.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and Alaric entered, his face bearing a look of concern.

"We have a problem," Alaric said without preamble, his voice laced with unease. "Word has it that the old guild leaders are meeting. They're already discussing how to 'restore order.'"

Eren's eyes narrowed. He'd anticipated that others would seize the opportunity, but not this soon. "Who's leading them?"

Alaric crossed his arms. "One of Azrael's former allies—Reyna. She's clever, ruthless. She kept her distance during the uprising, biding her time."

Eren nodded, a flicker of intrigue sparking in his eyes. "Then we pay her a visit."

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The meeting with Reyna took place in a darkened tavern on the city's edge. Reyna was there, flanked by two of her closest guards, a calculated smile curving her lips as Eren entered. Her eyes were sharp, assessing, taking in every detail.

"So, the great liberator comes to negotiate," Reyna said, her tone smooth, laced with mockery. "Should I be honored, or merely cautious?"

Eren regarded her with measured calm. "You could choose both, Reyna. I'm here because we both know that this city can't afford another war."

Her smile faded slightly, though she held her poise. "I have no interest in bowing to another ruler. I kept my hands clean through Azrael's downfall. Now, I intend to reclaim what's mine."

Eren leaned forward, his gaze unyielding. "Then we have an understanding. You want control, but you don't want another fight. I'm offering you a place in the new order—one that doesn't end in bloodshed."

Reyna's eyes glittered with calculation. "And what exactly would that look like?"

"Simple. The guilds maintain their influence, but they answer to a unified council—a council that answers to me. You retain your territories, your networks, but under our protection."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "And why should I trust you?"

Eren didn't flinch. "Because you don't have a choice. The people see me as their liberator. If you challenge that, you'll lose. But stand with me, and you'll gain more power than Azrael ever gave you."

A long silence followed, the weight of the decision settling in the air. Reyna's gaze held Eren's, testing his resolve, but she found no weakness. Finally, she extended her hand.

"Very well. But make no mistake, Eren—I'll be watching."

Eren took her hand, his grip firm. "Likewise."

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As word spread of Eren's pact with Reyna, tension simmered among his allies. Renna approached him that night, her expression troubled.

"I don't trust her," she said bluntly. "She's just like Azrael—she'll turn on you the first chance she gets."

Eren crossed his arms, his gaze steady. "I know, Renna. But we can't rule this city with brute force. We need alliances, even if they're temporary."

Her eyes flashed with frustration. "You're taking a risk. She'll undermine you, erode everything we've built."

"Then let her try," Eren replied, his voice calm but steely. "I didn't come this far to be outplayed by people like her."

Renna's shoulders relaxed, but only slightly. She nodded, though a hint of worry lingered in her eyes.

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The nights grew uneasy as rumors spread through the city—whispers of discontent, hints of rebellion. Azrael's old loyalists were regrouping, finding new leaders in the shadows, testing Eren's influence. Even the common folk, grateful for their newfound freedom, harbored doubts as word of Eren's alliances spread.

One evening, as Eren walked the streets, he overheard a conversation that stopped him in his tracks.

"They say he's just another tyrant in the making," a man murmured to his companion. "Azrael's gone, but for how long before someone takes his place?"

Eren continued past them, his face expressionless, but the words echoed in his mind. The city had changed, but his hold over it was far from secure. He had freed them, but their loyalty was fragile—conditional.

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