The sound of thunder split the sky.
Zeke froze at the edge of the forest, staring blankly as a bolt of golden lightning crashed to the ground not far ahead.
"No…"
The roar that tore from his throat was closer to a beast's than a man's—deep, ragged, full of helpless fury. The birds nesting high in the trees scattered in panic, their wings flapping wildly as if escaping the echo of his despair.
That flash… he knew what it meant.
It was the mark of transformation.
A Titan had been born.
Whether Pure or Intelligent, every transformation began with that same flash of light.
And that meant—
He was too late.
Even if Eren hadn't devoured their father, Grisha had already injected him with Titan spinal fluid. That lightning meant the process had begun.
If he stopped it now, Eren would still be a mindless Pure Titan—hunted, hated, and ultimately killed by the Survey Corps.
If he let it continue, Eren would eat Grisha and inherit both the Attack Titan and the Founding Titan.
Either way, someone he loved would be gone.
Who should he save?
His father… or his brother?
The question twisted in his mind like a knife.
And the cruelest part was—
No matter what choice he made, it would end the same way.
When he stumbled into the clearing, the answer was already written before him.
Under the shade of an old tree, a small Titan sat cross-legged like a grotesque child. Its cheeks bulged with something in its mouth. It chewed. Slowly. Wetly.
Zeke's heart sank.
Only half of Grisha Yeager remained.
The Titan's tiny, innocent-looking hands clutched his father's body like a toy. Flesh and blood dripped down its arms.
Zeke's breath caught.
That memory—
the one he hadn't dared to look at when walking through Grisha's memories with Eren in their past life—
suddenly played out in full.
He remembered Grisha staggering from the chapel after slaughtering the royal family.
He remembered those last words echoing in that timeless place called The Paths:
"Zeke… I love you."
"If only I could have played with you a little longer."
"Please… stop Eren."
He had hated his father all his life. Hated his obsession, his failure, his hypocrisy.
Yet in that single moment, those words had broken everything inside him.
And now—
He could finally see what came after.
The sight burned into his eyes like punishment.
The child-Titan raised its head and looked at him.
Zeke roared, leaping forward with all the fury and pain he had left. His massive fist crashed down—
—but before it could connect, the small Titan vanished.
In its place lay a boy.
Eren.
Small. Unconscious. Human again.
"Unfair…" Zeke hissed. His chest heaved. "You turn back now? You think that saves you?"
He de-transformed in an instant, the steam of his Titan body rising into the cold air. Drawing the dagger Bertholdt had given him, he stalked toward the boy.
If he killed him now, it would end everything.
The curse of the Titans. The endless chain of suffering. The wars. The walls. The hatred.
Eren Yeager should never have been born.
The blade trembled in his hand. He raised it.
But when it touched the boy's skin—
he stopped.
Why?
Why couldn't he do it?
He clenched his teeth until they hurt, the knife shaking violently.
"Why can't I…?"
He could hear his own thoughts, chaotic and cruel:
He should have eaten Eren.
He should have taken both the Attack and Founding Titans.
He should have saved the world!
If rebirth was truly a second chance—why had fate placed him here of all times?
The year it all began.
Why not earlier? Why not 832, when he could have reported his parents again—or 825, the year he was born?
Any earlier, and he could have saved everyone.
His parents wouldn't have been exiled to Paradis.
Dina wouldn't have become a monster.
Carla would have lived a peaceful life.
And Eren—
Eren would never have been born.
Yes.
That's it.
If Eren had never existed, none of this would have happened.
No walls falling.
No endless wars.
No rumbling across the earth.
The devil named Eren Yeager should never have been born into this world.
His hands moved on their own. He pressed the dagger against Eren's throat again, this time with killing intent.
But then—
That face.
That peaceful, sleeping face.
The little boy who would one day destroy the world.
The same boy who once called him—
"Brother."
The word pierced him deeper than the blade ever could.
"Save Eren."
His father's voice echoed again, soft and trembling.
Zeke's grip faltered. The knife slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground.
He knelt beside the boy, tears spilling freely for the first time in years.
"Why, Father…" he whispered. "Even after death, you're still asking me to do this? To save him? How? How can I save someone who's already… broken?"
The tears dripped onto Eren's face. They glistened in the fading light.
And then—
Thud!
A sharp kick slammed into his side, sending him flying into a tree. Bark cracked. Pain exploded through his ribs.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Levi's voice cut through the forest like a whip.
He landed lightly beside Eren, blades drawn, eyes cold.
"He's your brother!"
Zeke coughed, blood trickling down his lip. His body shook with fury.
"It's all your fault…" he hissed. "It's all your fault!! If you damned Survey Corps hadn't interfered, I could've stopped all this! I could've saved him!"
Levi's expression didn't change. "You call that saving?"
"YES!" Zeke roared, lunging at him in rage. "It's because of you—because of you!—that I'm too late! That he— that Father— that everything—!"
His roar shattered the forest's stillness.
And then—
for the first time since that lightning struck—
Levi Ackerman and Zeke Yeager met again.
Face to face.
Brother against brother's killer.
The forest trembled.
And the war of blood and fate began anew.
To be continued…