"Ah…!"
Gasps rippled through the hall.
The little girl stood trembling in the center of the chaos — peach-colored blouse, white skirt brushing her ankles, a red scarf looped tightly around her neck though the season was far too warm for it. Plain-faced, fragile, she looked like a child from some forgotten mountain village. No one could have imagined that such a small, timid figure would transform — in the blink of an eye — into a living god of war.
Her eyes had sharpened, clear as steel. The dull, fearful child vanished. In her place stood something fierce, ancient, and unrelenting. With a short blade barely three inches long, she had done what no grown soldier dared to attempt.
Cut him in half.
At the waist.
A soldier — a trained adult — now lay broken at her feet, his body split cleanly in two.
For a long, breathless moment, no one spoke.
Then whispers erupted all at once:
"That's… Ackerman's power?"
"How terrifying!"
"Look at her eyes — they're just like that short soldier's!"
The soldiers nearby shrank back, horror plain on their faces. None dared approach the girl.
Levi's gaze lingered on her, cold but thoughtful. He had seen power before — Kenny's monstrous strength, the raw instincts of an Ackerman in full release — but this… this child shouldn't have been capable of that.
He was strong. Kenny was strong. That much made sense; their bloodline explained it. But this quiet, sullen little girl? She had no visible tie to them beyond a shared name. Surely her father's strength couldn't account for this. And yet…
At that moment, Levi believed.
There truly was something carved into their blood — a sleeping power that, once awakened, could turn any Ackerman into a weapon.
"Is this why the royal family hunts us?"
"Why Kenny turned against the Military Police Brigade?"
"Why my mother hid in the underground, why I was even born down there?"
The realization churned within him — bitterness, rage, a strange understanding. For the first time, he wanted the truth more than he feared it.
Meanwhile, Mikasa stood amid the wreckage, her breath ragged. The world spun. The surge of power had left her trembling and hollow. She could barely keep her knife steady, let alone lift it again.
She knew she had killed someone. She didn't know how. She didn't even have the energy to feel afraid.
Her eyes found Eren.
He was her anchor.
There was no place for her in this world — not anymore. But as long as Eren existed, there was still a place she could return to.
"Eren… don't be afraid," she whispered hoarsely. "It's okay. I'll take you back to Aunt Carla now…"
She forced her exhausted body forward.
"Demon! Don't come near me! Help! Somebody help me!"
Davion, torn nearly in half, wailed in terror. No one moved to save him. Not one soldier took a step.
Mikasa ignored him. She stumbled to Eren's chair, knees giving way as she cut at his ropes with her blood-soaked blade.
Eren's eyes softened. "Mikasa…"
When the ropes fell loose, she collapsed against him, all her strength gone. In his arms — safe, trembling — the fear finally broke through. She began to cry, soundless and small, like the child she still was.
She had killed a man.
And she didn't even know why she could.
The Survey Corps soldiers who had half-rushed to intervene finally snapped back to reality.
Hange, flustered, scratched her head. "Actually, I— uh — came to check on the children's injuries!"
"Oh! Right! The children's injuries!" another soldier echoed awkwardly.
The nearby garrison soldiers stared at them, speechless. "These weirdos…"
Hange crouched beside the two children and started examining them. Her expression shifted quickly from nervous humor to professional focus.
"Hey! The one who needs a doctor right now is Davion!" one of the Military Police Brigade shouted, pointing to the man writhing on the floor.
Davion's breathing was shallow; his skin had gone gray.
Hange gave him a quick look and sighed. "That kind of injury—he's done for."
"Maybe not," said Zeke quietly. "If we send him to the hospital right now, he might survive."
The Military Police Brigade froze, unsure whether he was serious.
Zeke rubbed his temple. "Ah. Never mind. I forgot — medicine inside the Walls is a century behind. Probably no one can sew a man back together anyway."
Still, they obeyed. Two officers lifted what remained of Davion and hurried him out.
Hange turned back to the girl. "Come here, Mikasa-chan. Let me check your wounds."
But Mikasa only pressed herself closer to Eren, eyes wide, distrust burning there. Everyone around her wore the same uniform as the man she'd just killed.
Eren gently pushed her toward Hange. "It's all right. She's here to help."
Hange's examination was quick but thorough. "Incredible," she murmured. "You've got bruises, but no serious injuries. I thought your ribs would be shattered from the way you hit that guard. What an Ackerman body!"
Then she turned to Eren. "Now you, little one. Let me see."
Eren tried to wave her off. "I'm fine."
Hange tilted his chin up — and froze. A faint white vapor rose from the boy's skin.
"Eren!" Zeke shouted, eyes wide with both fear and warning.
Eren blinked and the smoke vanished, as if it had never been.
"I'm fine," he repeated firmly, pushing Hange's hand away.
Hange's voice dropped to a whisper. "At that age… and he's already healing like that?"
Eren gave her a look that said nothing.
"Oh! You lost a tooth!" Hange said suddenly, prying his mouth open like a curious aunt. "That bastard hit you too hard."
Eren scowled. "…Thanks for the reminder."
After that, Hange pressed her fingers against his stomach. She remembered the blows he'd taken earlier — heavy punches, each one aimed squarely at his gut. The softest, most vulnerable part of the body.
Her fingers pressed. "Any pain here?"
Eren didn't answer.
Hange pressed again. "What about here?"
He inhaled sharply — a tiny sound, but enough. Then he sighed and slumped backward. "Fine. Maybe I'm not fine."
Hange straightened up and shouted toward the crowd. "He's injured! Commander! I request immediate medical attention for the boy!"
But Eren was already pushing himself upright again, using the chair for balance. "No need," he said quietly. "I can keep going."
Hange blinked. "What?"
Mikasa's eyes widened. "Eren…"
He steadied himself, turned toward Zeke, and sat back down.
His gaze didn't waver. "I want to hear what Nii-san has to say," he said softly. "I want to know what he's trying to do."
The hall fell silent again.
Two brothers — one bound, one trembling — stared across the distance between them.
And in that moment, no one dared breathe.