The next morning.
"Time's up."
The dungeon doors creaked open. Chains clanked as soldiers filed in and led the prisoners out one by one.
Cold metal cuffs locked around Zeke's wrists.
"Don't worry," Erwin said softly beside him. "We've made arrangements. Whatever happens today, we'll do our best to keep you safe."
Zeke chuckled, a low, humorless sound. "I won't die in a boring trial like this."
Erwin blinked. "What did you say?"
Zeke didn't answer. He simply followed the guards out, his face unreadable.
The moment he stepped into the light above ground, he was met with rows of Survey Corps soldiers—and a group of familiar young faces.
Among them, Eren.
At that same instant, a figure broke through the crowd.
"Give me back my husband!!"
Carla lunged forward, eyes red, striking Zeke hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the air.
"Lady, please—!"
"Carla!"
Zeke didn't resist. He stood silently as soldiers restrained her. When they pulled her back, he finally turned, touching his swollen cheek.
"It seems you loved my father very much," he said quietly.
Carla's tears spilled over again. "Shut up! You have no right to call Grisha your father!"
Zeke sneered faintly. "I don't plan to call that man 'father' anymore."
Keith, seeing the crowd beginning to stir, quickly stepped in and led Carla away before chaos broke out.
From the sidelines, Eren watched, expression still, but his thoughts restless.
Why doesn't he explain himself?
It's something he could just say… so why doesn't he?
He could clear everything up if he wanted. Instead, he just stands there, letting everyone hate him.
His thoughts halted when Zeke's gaze met his.
Eren: "…"
Zeke: "…"
For a fleeting moment, both remembered the same words, the same ghostly voice of their father.
"Do we really need to save this demon who will destroy the world?"
"Do we really need to save this devil who threatens to destroy Paradis?"
The same doubt, spoken years apart.
"What?" Zeke asked, frowning.
"Nothing," Eren muttered, turning away.
"…Is this how they always talk?" someone nearby whispered, bewildered.
Soon, everyone was loaded into their carriages.
Zeke was taken in a prison van—heavy iron, reinforced windows. The others followed in ordinary wagons.
Inside the captain's carriage, Carla sat silently, shoulders shaking.
"Carla," Keith said gently, kneeling before her. "I know this hurts. But please… think of the greater good. Don't let grief blind you to what Grisha wanted."
Her eyes were distant, full of grief.
Keith continued, his voice low but urgent. "If Zeke dies, the last hope of humanity dies with him. I beg you—finish what Grisha started. Don't let anger decide for you."
"I know," Carla choked out. "I know what I have to do! I won't condemn Zeke at the trial. I'll save him… for humanity, for justice, for the world! But—"
Her voice broke. "Why? Why must I protect the murderer who devoured my husband? Why?"
Keith's lips pressed together. He had said those same words of logic and duty countless times before, but standing before her pain, they suddenly felt hollow.
He couldn't ask her to forget. He couldn't ask her to let go.
Not when grief this deep still bled through every breath.
In the prison van behind them, Erwin's squad sat in silence as the wheels rattled over the stones.
Zeke, chained and unmoving, stared blankly out through the narrow window slit.
"What's wrong?" Erwin asked. "You look troubled."
Zeke exhaled slowly. "I was just thinking… If the future can't be changed, if everything ends the same no matter what—then what's the point of all this effort?"
Erwin folded his arms, eyes steady. "I've heard you ask something like that before. It seems this question's been haunting you for a while."
Zeke said nothing. His mind drifted back—his father's death, his failures, the endless loop of regret.
Even after returning here… I still couldn't change anything.
No matter what I do, fate stays the same.
"I don't know what you've seen," Erwin said after a pause. "But I know this—change doesn't happen in an instant. It begins quietly, almost unseen."
He leaned forward. "A soldier doesn't become strong after one day of training. It takes years to forge discipline, courage, and conviction. It's the same for everything else. Maybe your actions won't change the world overnight—but if you keep trying, something will shift. Even if you can't see it yet."
Zeke's golden eyes flickered.
Quietly, something in him stirred.
"…So maybe the change is already happening," he murmured.
Erwin nodded. "Exactly. I'm not the type to hesitate, Zeke. Hesitation only wastes time. If there's something you truly want to do—then do it with everything you've got. Don't leave yourself regrets."
For the first time that morning, Zeke smiled faintly. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the cold wall of the van. "You sure talk a lot."
Erwin smiled too. "I'm just having a conversation with a friend."
"…A friend, huh."
Zeke turned his head toward the sliver of light outside. "That's not such a bad thing."
The wheels rolled on, carrying them toward the trial—and the uncertain future waiting beyond.