God & Demon - XXIII (Patreon)

Chapter XXIII: Inside Amos’s Mind

(Two Weeks Earlier, Survey Corps Headquarters)

Training sessions between Amos and Eren took place every morning from seven to noon in front of the castle. Typically, the other members of Levi’s squad were too engrossed in their own drills to watch, and today was no exception. Only Levi himself lingered, keeping an eye on the newest member of his unit and the noble he still didn’t fully trust. The captain of the Survey Corps sipped his morning tea, observing as Jaeger sparred with Hannibal, employing the moves and techniques the latter had taught him. Though Eren struggled to gain the upper hand, the short-statured captain had to admit that the boy from Shiganshina was replicating Hannibal’s lessons fairly well. His knack for cleaning, his obedience—albeit occasionally reluctant—and his determination to excel would have made him an exemplary soldier in the eyes of the former Underground thief… if only he could control himself better.

Levi’s brow furrowed in irritation and disappointment as he caught the glint in Eren’s eyes and let out a disgruntled huff. Clearly, Jaeger was far from done causing them trouble.

Amos’s face hardened with severity as his training partner unleashed a reckless barrage of punches, both dangerous and imprudent. Forgetting nearly every defensive principle Amos had drilled into him and focusing solely on devastating, risky attacks, Eren had left his right flank wide open. And Hannibal was about to make him pay dearly for it.

He sidestepped yet another punch, stepping back to set up his counter, and delivered a crushing knee to Eren’s ribs. The younger man let out a cry of pain as his bones cracked audibly.

Levi’s eyebrows rose halfway at the scene, his hand instinctively gripping his sword in case the Titan shifter lost control and transformed. Still, he was surprised by Hannibal’s violent reaction.

Eren collapsed to his knees, hands clutching the injured area, panting in agony before looking up to meet his friend’s stern, crossed-armed expression. He swallowed a biting retort at the last second, seeing the noble’s disapproving glare.

“Do you know why I smashed your ribs?” Hannibal growled, his tone laced with frustration.

Eren bit his tongue to avoid snapping back too quickly, struggling to focus through the pain. Try as he might, he could only muster, “Because I made a… serious mistake?”

Amos rolled his eyes.

“You started off well,” he reprimanded. “Your movements were fluid, your defense was solid, and your attacks were cautious and clever. But when you didn’t get the results you wanted, you got frustrated and let your anger take over. Again. Even though you know the disastrous consequences that could bring.”

Eren lowered his head in shame, grimacing with frustration. He struck the ground once, then his own forehead.

“Damn it! I… I’m sorry… I…”

“Calm down,” Amos ordered, sitting across from him. “It’s just a problem to fix, not an insurmountable obstacle.”

Eren gritted his teeth but eventually nodded.

In the distance, Levi leaned forward slightly, curious to see what approach the noble would take.

“I was a bit naive,” Amos admitted, shaking his head. “I underestimated just how much anger you’re carrying inside. We need to find a way to get that under control, or we’re heading for disaster.”

Eren swallowed hard, bitter memories of his squad’s screams during the Battle of Trost flooding his mind. All those who died because of him, because he let his emotions blind him. He winced as his ribs slowly mended, tempted to slap himself for failing to learn such a crucial lesson.

“Eren,” Amos called, prompting him to look up. “I want to understand… why are you so angry? Have you always been this way, or did it start with the fall of Wall Maria?”

Eren didn’t answer immediately. He sat down, lost in thought. Had he always been like this? Deep down, he believed he had. He’d always thought his anger was justified—and he still did.

Yes, he had every right to be furious. But he was tired of his rage getting the better of him. It had nearly cost him his life. It had cost the lives of four comrades and almost claimed Mikasa and Armin as well.

He let out a deep, almost guttural sigh, about to respond when he remembered Levi was listening. Noticing this, Amos turned to the captain.

“Could you give us a moment, please? He’ll open up more easily, and I’ll be better equipped to help him fix this if it’s just the two of us.”

Levi rolled his eyes but disappeared into the woods toward his squad’s training ground. Amos, however, suspected he was merely hiding behind a tree.

Once they were “alone,” Eren finally spilled his heart.

“I think I’ve always been like this,” he admitted, feeling his ribs finish healing. “Ever since I was born, I’ve wanted to be free… but there’s always some bastard, some damn Titan, or some fucking wall trying to take that freedom away. And that… it pisses me off every single time. It drives me insane, the mere fact that I have to wait or suffer to get my freedom. It makes me mad…”

A blazing fire of unparalleled intensity ignited in his eyes, startling and impressing Amos in equal measure.

“I want to wipe out the Titans because they stand between me and my freedom. I want to leave these damn walls because I’m living like a goddamn sheep… I want… I want to destroy everything that keeps me from living the life I want to lead.”

His tirade was followed by a long minute of silence, during which Amos stared at his friend thoughtfully, an expression that eventually made Eren uneasy.

“Uh…” he began.

But the tall blond spoke first.

“Then why did you choose to become a soldier? As one, you’re bound to obey every decision your superiors make, even those that might force you to let your comrades die—or die yourself. That’s an odd career choice for someone who loves freedom as much as you do.”

At those words, Eren’s muscles relaxed, and he let out a resigned sigh.

“Because… I don’t want to be some selfish bastard who takes others’ freedom for my own gain. I’ll serve and help humanity, give them enough hope to find their own freedom. Like all the soldiers before me who died for ours. And once my duty is done, if I survive, I’ll leave—after earning my own freedom.”

Amos was… fascinated. Eren’s worldview was simplistic, almost childlike, yet it made a certain logical sense.

“Interesting,” he remarked, clasping his hands in front of his mouth. “You recognize your desire is selfish, so you choose to be altruistic first to earn your freedom. It’s both naive and remarkably mature.”

Eren felt a bit embarrassed by his friend’s words. He met Amos’s gaze to ensure he wasn’t being mocked, then shrugged.

“That’s just who I am. Always have been.”

Amos nodded, gazing at the horizon in thought.

“Don’t you want to be free?” Eren asked.

The question made Amos raise his eyebrows.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You said you wanted to be a father, that you wanted your kids to grow up in a safer world… What if… you found a quiet corner in the outside world? Somewhere far enough away where you could have your family without worrying about people coming after you?”

At those words, Amos’s eyes widened, and his imagination ran wild before he could stop it.

He pictured a peaceful life, one where he wouldn’t need to be paranoid and on guard from dawn to dusk. A simple life as a rancher, hunter, or farmer. A life where his greatest worries would be caring for a woman he loved, keeping his kids from getting into too much trouble, and ensuring they didn’t surpass him at chess.

This simple dream hit him like a punch to the gut, a burning desire consuming him from within. Yes, he wanted to be free—free from the parasites who constantly targeted him in the name of greed, gluttony, and lust. Those three sins, personified by the witch-like face haunting his mind.

“Yes…” he finally said, “yes… I can’t imagine wanting anything more.”

He shook his head and continued, “I’m sorry, Eren.”

“For what?” Eren asked, frowning.

“I always thought you were a naive idiot,” Amos admitted with a hint of regret. “Today, I realize you were never an idiot, and your naivety is limited to certain things—not your view of the world. Forgive me.”

Though deeply offended by his friend’s words, the Titan shifter crossed his arms and shot him a mocking smirk.

“I proved Amos N—Hannibal wrong. I’ll remember this victory.”

The noble and the Shiganshina native burst into laughter. Afterward, Amos’s expression turned serious again.

“As for your anger problem… there are two solutions.”

Eren stopped chuckling abruptly, giving his friend his full attention.

“The first would be to treat it like any psychological issue. With a few months of hard work on yourself, you should be able to control it.”

“That’s way too long!” Eren protested. “The expedition is in two weeks!”

“I know,” Amos replied calmly. “The second solution is faster, but you’re going to hate it.”

That admission immediately put Eren on edge.

“Why? Because I’ll get my ass kicked?”

“Yes, but I know you can take pain like a bear. The thing with my solution is that it’s a method used to treat the mentally ill or train animals.”

At those words, a deep sense of disgust washed over Eren. His body recoiled slightly as his mind screamed in protest.

“What’s your method?” he asked, mustering all his courage and swallowing his revulsion.

“Psychological conditioning,” Hannibal announced, clasping his hands. “It involves forcing your brain to develop a reflexive response that isn’t naturally triggered. Essentially, every time you’re about to lose yourself to anger, your mind will reflexively pull you back before it spirals out of control.”

Eren raised a worried eyebrow.

“That… sounds… practical,” he said hesitantly. “How are you going to do it?”

“Simple. Every time you cross the line, I’ll shatter your most sensitive bones. Eventually, your brain will get so sick of the pain that it’ll develop a survival reflex, identifying your anger outbursts as the primary cause of your suffering and stopping you from going too far. That said, it might not always work. You might have so much anger that it overrides the conditioning, or it might only kick in when you’ve gone well beyond the limit we’re trying to set.”

Eren swallowed hard, clenching his teeth. His friend’s solution was… practical in a functional sense… but utterly repulsive in every other way.

Conditioning his brain? Training him like an animal to keep his rage in check? It was abhorrent to him. Yet… how many times had his anger blinded him? How many times had it caused him harm? How many comrades had died because of it? How many more could die?

In the end, the decision, though vile, wasn’t that hard to make. He had nothing to gain by letting his rage dominate him. He needed to harness it, channel it into his fists as the noble taught him—but no further.

“Alright,” he said, to Amos’s great surprise. “Let’s do it.”

A brief, uneasy silence followed, during which Amos stared at his comrade as if he’d hit his head.

“That’s it?” he asked, stunned.

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’?”

“I figured you’d take a day to think it over,” Hannibal admitted, crossing his arms. “I’m surprised you agreed so quickly.”

“Think about what?” Eren growled, starting to get annoyed. “Whether my comrades’ lives are worth more than my worst flaw? My pride? Yeah, it pisses me off to do something like this. But if that’s the price I have to pay… I’ll pay it gladly.”

Another silence. Hannibal cracked a small smile.

“Okay. We’ll start tomorrow so I can figure out the best approach. With only two weeks, I need to find the fastest method possible.”

Eren nodded, visibly relieved the conversation was over. But as he turned to head to the dining hall to prepare lunch, he paused at the castle’s entrance and looked back at his friend.

“Amos?”

“Yeah?”

“If we manage to wipe out the Titans, if we manage to win our freedom… can you make me a promise?”

The noble’s expression grew serious.

“Depends on the promise.”

“When I’m gone, can you take care of Mikasa?”

Amos raised his eyebrows in surprise and chuckled.

“I seriously doubt she’d stay behind if you go off on an adventure.”

“I’m serious,” Eren insisted, irritated.

“So am I,” the tall blond replied. “If you leave, she’ll follow you. You know that as well as I do. And don’t ask me to stop her—if I could pull off a miracle like that, I’d have already wiped out the Titans.”

Eren grumbled in frustration.

“She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t have even followed me into the Survey Corps. She’s meant for a peaceful life. She deserves a peaceful life. Like the one you want.”

That last sentence stunned the noble. Was Eren suggesting…?

“I mean… you guys could be neighbors…”

Only a decade of seasoned political experience kept Amos from rolling his eyes and slapping his forehead.

“I overestimated him.”

“Eren… the only thing I can promise is that I’ll do my best to ensure she has a peaceful life. But I can’t force her to make decisions.”

The Titan shifter took a moment to think, then nodded.

“That’s good enough for me.”

With that, he entered the castle and disappeared from the noble’s view, leaving Amos to reflect on their conversation.

“We’re more alike than I thought,” he noted, surprised. “I wonder if I could’ve ended up like him…”

Those thoughts made him roll his eyes, and he shook his head dismissively.

“What am I saying? I was way worse than him.”

(Present)

Amos flicked his twelfth cigarette off the top of Wall Rose and immediately lit a thirteenth. It had been over an hour since Reiner fled with Eren, Ymir, and their accomplices, leaving the Survey Corps stranded atop humanity’s second wall, waiting for reinforcements and supply lifts. Mikasa was still unconscious, Armin lay beside her to rest, and Connie and Sasha had gone to lie down after tending to the wounded. Amos had distanced himself from the group to stew over his second defeat. Despite his crippling lack of sleep, he couldn’t have closed his eyes even if he wanted to. Too many thoughts swirled in his head, too many events had unfolded, and the situation seemed to worsen every time it showed signs of improving.

Exasperated, he let out a smoky, guttural groan and took another drag.

“Amos?”

The noble turned to see his little sister’s worried, sad expression but said nothing.

“Stop smoking, please,” the petite blonde sighed.

Amos exhaled a plume of smoke through his nose, spat the cigarette into Maria’s territory, and sat at the edge of Wall Rose. Defeated by mental exhaustion, he threw his head back, glaring at the sky with his emerald eyes.

“Sorry,” he muttered, placing a hand over his face. “I… too much has happened. I’m struggling to process it all, to analyze every possible consequence.”

“Good,” she replied, “because no one’s told me anything. Can you give me a summary?”

And so he did, after another weary sigh. He told her everything: Annie’s capture, the discovery of Titans within the Walls, the potential power of royal blood, all the information and deductions he’d gleaned from Reiner, the pastor, and the Female Titan… and Nick’s revelation about the possible return of the witch.

Historia took a moment to absorb and process it all. Once she had, she rested her head on her big brother’s shoulder.

“So all this… started yesterday morning?”

“Yes.”

“And since then, you’ve barely rested and only slept an hour and a half?”

“I’ve been through worse.”

“Lie down.”

Amos opened his mouth to protest, but his little sister wrapped her arms around him and met his gaze.

“Please, lie down.”

Her pleading tone and radiant, anxious eyes wore him down. He slumped backward with the blonde in his arms, letting out a deep sigh of exhaustion.

“Damn…” he muttered, tightening his embrace slightly. “My head’s killing me…”

That last comment made the former Christa giggle. Usually, she was the one with a headache when her brother explained something.

“Historia?”

She looked up.

“We’ll get Ymir back.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry…”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“For what?”

Amos took a deep breath, as if steeling himself to confess a sin.

“For how I treated you those three years…”

Her mouth opened as she realized what he meant, but she settled for a grateful smile and rested her head back on his shoulder.

“You don’t need to apologize,” she reassured him. “You were going through a rough time, but you were always there for me.”

The noble clenched his jaw.

“I taught you to kill…”

“You taught me to survive.”

“I forced you…”

“You never forced me to do anything.”

“…to lie… to suffer… to torture…”

“I’ve never been stronger because of it,” she countered stubbornly.

“Historia…”

“No!” she cut him off with authority. “Listen to me.”

Amos lowered his eyes, meeting his little sister’s steely gaze.

“Yes… everything you taught me caused me pain,” she admitted without self-pity, “but it’s exactly because of that that I survived last night. I’m as strong as I am today only because of you. But I’m not naive… big brother… I know you taught me those things because you were terrified I’d suffer the same horrors you did when you disappeared.”

Hannibal’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, a clear enough response for the blonde.

“Yes,” she continued, “you were paranoid, dangerous, and awful at times, but I know… I know you did it all because you were scared. So I followed you… because there was no way I’d leave you like that.”

The eyes of both Lisbeth Tybur’s descendants welled up, but Historia didn’t let go.

“I love you so much…” she sobbed, placing a hand on each of his cheeks. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t pull you out of your hell…”

“Historia…” he tried to protest.

But the illegitimate child didn’t let him continue.

“So… when I saw… when I realized… you’d finally come back… I was so happy, I’d endure those three years a thousand times over if it meant you’d never leave again.”

Those words, coupled with the girl’s distress, struck Amos’s heart like a sledgehammer. Not knowing what else to do, he wrapped his arms around his little sister and held her as tightly as he could. Historia welcomed the embrace as the greatest reward and returned it with all she had.

They stayed like that for nearly fifteen minutes, releasing all the emotions they’d bottled up over the years, fully cherishing each other’s presence, loving one another with all the love a family could muster.

Only when they’d run out of tears did they loosen their sibling embrace, allowing themselves a moment of rest.

“I’ll never leave you again,” Amos whispered, resting his cheek against his sister’s blonde hair. “I promise.”

A radiant smile lit up the girl’s face. She nestled more comfortably against his shoulder and let out a sigh of relief.

“I believe you.”

A pleasant silence passed, allowing the two Hannibals to recover from their emotional outpour.

“Amos?”

“Hmm?”

“What…?” she hesitated before continuing with more confidence. “What woke you up? How did you come back?”

The noble opened his eyes, gazing at the sky thoughtfully… almost dreamily. Historia felt her heart race.

Amos glanced around to ensure no one was approaching, then whispered, “Promise me you won’t tell anyone, especially not Ymir.”

The blonde frowned but was too curious to argue.

“I promise.”

Amos took a deep breath to steel himself, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“I’m in love with Mikasa…”

“WHAT?!”

Historia’s shout triggered two reactions: a fiery glare from her brother and a general alert among the Survey Corps, who began scanning the surroundings, barking orders, and assuming combat positions.

“False alarm!” Amos shouted loud enough for everyone to hear. “Everything’s fine, my sister’s just a loudmouth!”

That earned him a punch to the ribs from said sister, who flushed with embarrassment as her comrades grumbled in anger. But a quick predatory glance from her brother silenced any complaints they might’ve voiced.

Once the tension subsided, Amos rolled his eyes, unaware of the curious looks Armin, Connie, and Sasha were casting their way.

“Nice going,” he said dryly.

Historia landed another punch before exhaling loudly to shake off her frustration and embarrassment, focusing on her brother’s revelation.

“You’re in love with Mikasa,” she repeated, trying to process the incredible news.

She noticed the slight flush on the young man’s cheeks, and a wide grin spread across her face.

“Since when?” she asked, brimming with childlike curiosity.

Her excitement both amused and embarrassed her big brother.

“Almost two years…” he sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“And you’re only telling me now?” she asked, incredulous.

This time, Amos let out a small groan of embarrassment.

“I only realized it last night.”

Historia gave him a dumbfounded look before bursting into the most genuine laughter she could muster, muffling it in her brother’s jacket as he sulked.

“Pffft,” she giggled uncontrollably. “I’d… pfft… almost forgotten… haha… you’re a guy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he growled, offended.

“That despite all your intelligence,” she gasped between laughs, “you’re as dense as the rest of them.”

Amos opened his mouth to protest but couldn’t argue with Historia, who laughed even harder. He settled for a grumble, letting his sister giggle against his chest.

“Dumbass,” she teased, wiping tears from her eyes.

“I know…” he sighed.

The sad tone in his voice snapped her out of her laughter. She frowned.

“What’s wrong? Are you afraid she doesn’t feel the same?”

“No,” he sighed, “it’s the opposite. She’s in love with me too…”

He ignored Historia’s wide-eyed stare and added, “Even though I have no idea why…”

Once again, he was met with her exasperated look.

“Wow…” she commented. “I feel like I’m talking to a kid.”

Amos grimaced, glaring at his sister with his emerald eyes.

“Did Ymir teach you to be this insolent?”

“Yes,” she replied proudly, “and she’d tell you the same thing I am: who cares why she’s in love with you?”

“That’s not what’s bothering me!” he nearly shouted, startling the blonde, who widened her eyes in surprise.

“Sorry,” he quickly added. “I…”

Historia didn’t let him finish, her concern taking over.

“Amos… what are you so afraid of?”

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He needed to get it off his chest, and there was no one better to listen than his little sister.

“I’m scared because she’s what’s keeping me afloat,” he admitted, tapping his temple to steady his terror. “I’m scared because the monster I used to be hasn’t gone away—it’s still there, in the fucking mess that is my head. I’m scared because if the Court ever found out I’ve fallen for a commoner, she wouldn’t last two days. And… I can barely imagine the monster I’d become if she…”

He gasped for air before continuing, looking Historia straight in the eyes.

“I tried,” he confessed. “I really tried to bury my emotions to be as effective as possible… for you… for Ymir… for the future… But it’s beyond my strength when she’s around… because of that… my reactions are unpredictable… my reasoning gets clouded by my feelings.”

Unable to hold back, Amos exhaled sharply, relaxing his tense muscles to regain some control. He sighed, “She holds my heart, my reason, and my life in the palm of her hand… If she’s gone… there won’t be much left of me…”

A long silence followed his confession, during which Historia stared at him as if seeing him for the first time in years. She’d never realized… never understood what was going on in his head… to know that his entire existence… the brother she loved with all her heart… depended entirely on Mikasa’s survival… it stunned her. This shouldn’t have happened. Amos was by far the strongest person she knew. Unbending, unyielding, indestructible. Those were the first words she’d have used to describe him… He’d never seemed so… fragile… so vulnerable. How…?

And then it clicked, like finding the missing piece of a massive puzzle she’d been trying to solve for years. Amos wasn’t fragile—he’d never been fragile. On the contrary, it was precisely because he was so strong that he’d held on this long and was starting… starting to rise again. She mentally berated herself as the worst kind of fool. She should’ve seen it, should’ve understood sooner. But when she’d asked before, her brother had scared her so much she’d never dared again. She should never have given up! She should never have doubted him! Because, in the end, there was only one person responsible for her brother’s torment.

“Amos…” she asked, gathering her courage. “What did the witch do to you?”

At those words, Hannibal froze as if struck by lightning, a flood of horrific flashbacks assaulting his mind.

The terror in his eyes was all the confirmation Historia needed to know she’d hit the mark. And this time, she wouldn’t back down.

“I told you I’d never talk about it,” Amos whispered, struggling to contain his violent emotions.

Without warning, his sister grabbed his shoulders and forced him to meet her gaze.

“You have to!” she declared, almost pleading. “That’s it! The root of all your problems! The reason you’re so afraid! You’ve never been scared of the Court, or Grandfather, or even the world itself! But you’ve never stopped being terrified of her!”

Hannibal called on every ounce of self-control to keep from reacting violently to his sister’s pleas. If he gave in… he’d hurt her.

His internal struggle left him completely paralyzed. Unaware of the danger, Historia pressed on.

“Please, you’ve never talked about it to anyone but Kaa-san! Since she left, you’ve shut yourself off, bottling up every emotion because you’re scared of her! Please, Amos! You have to break free! And if you can’t tell me… then promise me you’ll tell Mikasa.”

That plea rang in the noble’s ears as the most horrific thing he could do.

“I could never do that…” he murmured, terrified.

“DAMN IT, DAMN IT, DAMN IT! NO! SHE’S COMING! FUCK!”

“You have to,” Historia repeated, tears in her eyes. “Otherwise… you… you’ll never be… free.”

That word hit Amos like a slap to the face. He recalled his conversation with Eren, specifically the beautiful dream he’d had that day—a dream instantly tainted by the malevolent presence walking through the garden where he’d imagined his children playing.

“Historia…” he whispered, “can you let me think about it?”

The blonde frowned. In half a second, Amos had shifted from terror to impassivity, a sign he was still trying to hide. She doubted she’d get more out of him now, but assumed he needed time. She stood and started to walk away.

“I wish you’d made that promise,” she said sadly.

“Leave me alone!” he snapped harshly.

Inside, he was begging, “Go! Hurry!”

Historia’s eyes widened, deeply hurt by his tone, but she understood he was in a dark place. He’d apologize later, once he’d sorted himself out.

She gave him one last smile that broke his heart and went to join Connie and Sasha, who’d been watching from afar with concern.

Once alone, Amos finally let out what he’d been fighting to contain—a figure resembling a blonde woman in her thirties, naked as the day she was born, smiling like a devil.

“Poor little idiot bastard,” she sneered, kneeling beside him and licking his ear languorously. “She has no idea the disaster she just escaped.”

Hannibal froze, his face contorted in a grotesque mix of horror, terror, rage, and madness as the witch continued trailing her tongue across his face.

“Get out of my head!” he growled in a guttural voice.

Her only response was a crystalline laugh.

“I can’t leave, darling,” she purred seductively, pressing her voluptuous chest against his shoulder. “I never entered. You’re the one imagining me.”

Slowly, she slid her hand along his thigh, slipping it into his pants to knead his groin. Amos remained stone-faced.

“Look at that!” she marveled, embracing him from behind to press her chest against him. “My little boy’s become a man! The spitting image of his mother!”

“I… am not… your son,” he hissed.

“You came from my womb,” she laughed cruelly. “You’re my spitting image, and you belong to me—nobody else.”

“Go fuck yourself…”

Her cruel laughter rang out again. She bit his neck, her emerald eyes gleaming with sadistic delight.

“Poor choice of words,” she whispered, turning toward Mikasa’s sleeping form. “But excellent choice of bitch.”

Amos trembled with rage, his predatory instincts surging to their peak. He summoned every mental resource to fight the infection poisoning his mind.

“What a magnificent body,” she purred, her voice dripping with lust. “And that face… hmm… delicious…”

“Shut your mouth…”

“Oh! I’m going to have so much fun with her… or maybe I’ll let your sister have that pleasure? After all, there’s plenty of curves on your slut for both of us.”

At that, Amos snapped his head up in a surge of madness, turning to face his progenitor, unaware that Armin was watching. Fortunately, his back was to him.

“I’ll smash your whore daughter’s face, just like I smashed her twin’s, if you dare touch a single hair on her head,” he whispered like a rabid beast.

The memory of her offspring’s death cracked the witch’s lustful mask slightly, but she held her son’s gaze with a defiant, sadistic smile.

“But like last time, you’ll only act after the deed is done, won’t you, my little Momo?”

“Don’t call me that…”

“You know how I’ll do it—first a bit of toxin to soften her up, then some perfume to get her wet, and then I’ll come to pluck her cherry!”

It was more than Amos could bear. Channeling all his rage, hatred, and predatory will, he forced his progenitor’s vile presence back into the cell she should never have escaped. She let out a horrific laugh as she faded, adding with sadistic cruelty just before the gate slammed shut:

“Like I plucked yours!”

Tears streaming down his face, Amos Hannibal locked his worst nightmare deep within his mind, then buried his face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. He wept, purging the disgust he felt toward himself and the torment that gnawed at him daily—the darkest parts of his being that Mikasa thought she wanted to know, unaware of the horror haunting the noble.

But as he was about to collapse atop the wall, he felt, with terror, a pair of hands gently grasp his wrists. For one horrific second, he thought the witch had returned. In a flash, he pulled his hands away to face… his mother… his real mother.

Nanami Nakamura stood before him, dressed in the blue gown Mikasa had worn during their dinner at Hannibal Manor. Her angelic, savior-like face bore a smile both joyful and sad. Once again, Amos froze, letting her delicate finger wipe his tears.

“You’ve grown so much,” she whispered in her native tongue with a hint of pride. “My little Momo has become a big boy.”

“Kaa-san…” he murmured, unable to believe his eyes. “I… I don’t understand… how…? You’ve never appeared…”

“Amos,” she warned with an amused tone, “careful, your favorite chess partner is watching.”

At that, the tall blond nearly forgot all his troubles, rolling his eyes in exasperation. He sat back at the edge of Wall Rose, resting his head on his hand to hide his expressions.

“Nosy bastard,” he muttered, annoyed.

That earned him a flick on the forehead, which he welcomed with a smile, comforted by the gesture.

“Your language,” Nakamura teased, “and don’t be a hypocrite—you’d have done the same.”

“Guilty as charged,” he admitted, still smiling. “But care to remind me who taught me those words?”

“Guilty as charged,” the thirty-something woman replied, bursting into laughter.

Amos let out a long, deep sigh of relief at his mother’s laugh, feeling the fatigue and burdens weighing on his mind and shoulders melt away like snow in the sun.

Nanami sat behind her son, wrapping her protective arms around him. He nearly succumbed to hyperventilation as the comforting maternal embrace he’d longed for all these years enveloped him, but the love radiating from his mother’s imagined presence kept him afloat, allowing him to finally, truly relax—without any drugs.

“Amos…” Nanami whispered in his ear. “I’m so proud of you, you know?”

His expression darkened at her words. They felt hollow, even though he knew she’d have said them if she were really there.

“How could you be proud of me?” he whispered back. “I can barely stand on my own two feet. I turned my sister into a killer, manipulated my comrades, and I lost… again.”

“Oh… Amos… despite everything you’ve endured, you’re still standing. You taught your sister to be a strong, happy woman. You’ve trained, protected, and saved your comrades more than once. And despite defeat, you keep fighting. How could I not be proud of you?”

A simple sigh echoed her words. Nanami gave a small, bittersweet smile.

“Still not convinced? Alright. You’ve built a real life, far from the one others tried to force on you. You’ve made great friends, found a chess partner who improves every time you beat him, an apprentice who admires you for who you are, not what you represent. You’ve made your sister happy…”

“Ymir’s entirely responsible for Historia’s happiness…”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” his mother scolded. “We both know your sister will never be truly happy if you aren’t. You could’ve done a bit more when you gave that big-brother talk to that girl, though.”

Amos nearly burst out laughing at that last remark.

“There wasn’t much need to do more, and besides, she’d have transformed if I’d pushed too far.”

“Maybe,” Nanami admitted, “but you could’ve done a little more. We’re talking about your little sister.”

“She’s not so little anymore… well…”

“Be nice,” his mother chided again. “But you weren’t wrong about her—she’s perfect for Historia.”

“I know… Ymir has her charm… I need to bring her back…”

“You will. I have no doubt. You’ve always protected your own fiercely.”

Amos turned to the memory of his mother.

“I got that from my Kaa-san.”

That earned him a loving smile in return.

“You know…” she continued as his gaze returned to the horizon. “I like her.”

A faint veil of sadness passed over the young man’s face, and he chose not to respond.

“And I think you’re a bit too protective of her… and that you underestimate yourself a lot.”

Those words surprised the noble. Though he knew his mother inside and out, and though this was just a fragment of his imagination, he hadn’t expected that.

“What do you mean?” he murmured, perplexed. “I’m a wreck… even now, I’m talking to a memory of my Kaa-san… and I’m still… haunted by that bi—”

“Shhh,” Nanami soothed, pressing her cheek against his. “It’s okay… calm down…”

A few tears rolled down the tall blond’s face. He knew this touch was just his imagination mixed with memories, but he welcomed it as the greatest comfort, melting his anxiety away once more.

“Amos,” she continued tenderly, “I know you’re scared of what your relationship could bring. I know you’re afraid you can’t protect or care for her. But do you remember how you became so strong? Do you remember how I became so strong?”

Hannibal raised skeptical eyebrows, struggling to believe her.

“Despite the horrors you endured, you stayed strong for Historia. You became yourself again the day you fell in love with Mikasa, and you’ve been getting better ever since. You trained and guided your comrades because you care about them. You fight your inner demons instead of running from them because of her confession and the love your sister has for you. You fight every day to build a better future because you refuse to let your children endure what you did.”

His gaze drifted as he recalled every moment shared with those around him. His heartbeat quickened slightly.

“People grow strong when they have loved ones to protect,” she said, stroking his hair. “Love, my darling, love with all your might, and you’ll be unstoppable.”

Amos took his time absorbing his mother’s lesson, letting it sink into his mind, rekindle his will, and invigorate his body.

He felt good, at peace, ready.

Ready to take full control of his destiny.

“There you go,” Nanami smiled, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

Another tear rolled down the noble’s face as he let out a deep sigh of relief.

“I wish you were really here,” he murmured sadly.

“I am,” his mother whispered, placing her finger on his heart. “I’ll always be here. And I’ll love you forever, my brilliant boy.”

Amos felt his mother’s embrace fade as a warm glow enveloped his body, twin streams of tears cascading down his face.

“Go apologize to your sister,” she advised before vanishing.

Her son sat alone… for ten minutes, maybe twenty, perhaps an entire hour. He wasn’t in a state to track time. He felt better—better than he had in the past five years. Calmed, he rubbed his eyes to dry his tears, stood to stretch, and clapped his hands together.

“Alright…” he thought, scanning the dejected ranks of the Survey Corps. “First things first.”

He spotted Historia, curled up and staring in the direction Reiner had fled. Without warning, he sat beside her and pulled her into a hug. She was so surprised she nearly yelped.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in their second language. “You were completely right. Thank you.”

The blonde was startled to hear her brother speak their old tongue—they hadn’t communicated like this since their time in the Hannibal Brigades.

“Amos? Are you okay?”

“I could never ask for a better sister than you. You know that, right?”

His affectionate tone brought a massive smile to her face, and she returned his embrace.

“I’ll make sure to remind you.”

“Keep being you, and I’ll never forget.”

Overjoyed, Historia nestled her head against her brother’s chest but didn’t lose sight of her goal.

“Amos? Can you promise…?”

“To tell Mikasa?” he guessed, sighing. “You know, Ymir made me make a similar promise.”

Though surprised and curious, the blonde remained firm.

“You’re dodging…”

“I promise.”

Historia’s eyes widened slightly, but she was satisfied enough to relax.

“And if it’s really what you want… I’ll tell you too. But not now.”

This time, she was genuinely shocked.

“What changed your mind?” she asked.

A smile spread across the tall blond’s face as he looked to the horizon.

“Kaa-san.”

The two Hannibals remained like that for as long as it took for Historia to calm down enough to fall asleep. Once she did, Amos gently lifted his sister’s head and placed it on an improvised pillow made from a cloak. Then, he stood, retrieved his supplies, and headed toward Armin. The latter saw him approaching and swallowed hard.

“Dumbass,” Amos scolded, noticing Armin’s scratched-up face. “You haven’t treated your wounds.”

The smaller blond touched his face, confirming his superior’s observation, and lowered his head slightly.

Amos grabbed a piece of cotton, soaked it in alcohol, and began disinfecting Armin’s burns.

But… the fact that Armin kept his gaze down caught the noble’s attention. It didn’t take long for him to realize shame was behind the odd behavior.

“Armin,” he said, finishing the bandaging, “what are you beating yourself up about?”

The Shiganshina native curled in on himself but eventually spilled the truth.

“I’m sorry… really sorry…” he stammered, struggling to find his words. “It’s just… I figured out something about you that I wish I’d never known…”

At those words, Amos’s eyes narrowed, and an irritated growl escaped his throat.

“Meaning what?”

Armin swallowed again before mustering the courage to answer.

“When Mikasa asked me if I’d ever heard of the Dark Witch of Orvund, I was a bit surprised, so I did some digging to find out who she really was. Then… I realized it had something to do with you.”

Hannibal shuddered with horror.

“Damn it, no! Not like this!”

“I… I learned about her rituals and… and then I saw your reaction when the pastor confronted you… I saw the disgust on your face… and… and everything else… It didn’t take me long to put it together…”

Amos felt an uncontrollable rage trembling through his body. Armin looked up, his face filled with regret.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to! I swear! I… I… I just… I couldn’t stop myself…”

For one horrific moment, the Shiganshina native thought his friend might slit his throat, seeing the predatory violence in Amos’s emerald eyes. Thankfully, the noble calmed himself, snorting back his aggression. He shook his head and gave Armin a slightly too-hard flick on the forehead.

“Calm down,” Amos ordered, his tone firm yet weary. “I’m not mad at you… not really.”

Armin rubbed his forehead, almost relieved to see more sadness than rage in the tall blond’s gaze. Amos sighed to steady himself, then fixed his eyes on Armin.

“Listen… what happened to you happens to me every day,” he admitted, trying to put it in perspective. “Your analytical mind got ahead of you. I don’t like it… honestly, I’m furious… but I understand it wasn’t really your fault.”

Armin frowned, unable to grasp how it couldn’t be his fault.

“Please,” Amos continued, “don’t tell anyone. It’s my story to share.”

Those words relieved the smaller blond so much he exhaled like a deflating balloon. Amos nearly smiled and gave him a gentle pat on the head.

“It’s not easy, is it? Being smarter than everyone else.”

Armin sat back against the wall, letting his friend finish treating his wounds, though he understood exactly what Amos meant.

“For a long time,” he said, a bit sadly, “I wanted to be as smart as you. I replayed our chess games over and over to understand how you think. Then I noticed how you adjust your behavior with others, so I started observing them to figure out how you do it… That’s when… I realized things about our comrades I didn’t want to know…”

He met Amos’s compassionate, understanding emerald gaze.

“You’re smarter than me,” Armin said with a hint of admiration. “How do you handle it all?”

Amos let out a deep sigh through his nose, finishing with Armin’s wounds before moving to treat Mikasa’s scratches.

“I don’t always handle it,” he replied, disinfecting the cuts on the Eastern girl’s face. “Honestly… most of the time, I struggle to keep it all under control. My memory, for instance, is too perfect. I remember every sensation, every feeling, every pain, and sometimes, I relive them unconsciously.”

It took Armin only a second to make the connection.

“Is that why you take so many painkillers?”

“One of the main reasons,” Amos nodded, “but it’s not the worst part. There are people I know too well, and sometimes I can predict everything they might say in certain situations. Add my overactive imagination to that, and it’s easy for me to be… ‘haunted.’”

Armin frowned at first, confused, before recalling Amos’s strange behavior when alone. His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened in horror.

“You…” he stammered, incredulous. “How…?”

“That’s my curse,” Amos replied, shaking his head. “I’m human, with strengths and weaknesses. But with a mind like mine, everything is amplified. It’s one reason why part of me is cold and detached—I don’t have the time or mental energy to worry about the morality of everything I do.”

Armin swallowed, still unable to believe his own theory or his friend’s words.

“How… how are you still sane? If you went through… what I think you did… with your abilities… it must be hell…”

“I’m not sane,” Amos snorted with a wry smile, finishing Mikasa’s bandages. “I’ve been unhinged for years.”

He turned to his comrade, who stared at him with fascinated concern.

“Think about it. If you’re already a bit slow for me, imagine how I feel around people who are more… ‘ordinary.’”

Armin was speechless, his lips parting, but no words came out.

“I live in a world of goldfish,” Amos sighed. “It took me a long time to mature enough to value people for who they are.”

A small, nostalgic smile crossed the noble’s face.

“It wasn’t easy at first,” he admitted with a chuckle. “You were all so infuriating, I nearly tore my hair out countless times. You weren’t an exception, by the way—what kind of rookie soldier can’t do push-ups?”

Armin blushed, recalling his first training day, and scratched his scalp in embarrassment.

“Do you… still want to go back to the old you?”

Amos locked eyes with the smaller blond, then shook his head.

“Never. I’d rather die than become that person again. But to avoid that, I need to turn the page for good.”

Without another word, the noble moved away from the wall’s edge to lie down in the center.

“Get some sleep,” he advised, closing his eyes. “The Commander will be here in a few hours, and we’ll set out to retrieve Eren and Ymir. You’ll need all your strength—this expedition might be even deadlier than the last.”

Armin swallowed without replying, watching his friend drift off. He glanced at Mikasa’s bandaged, sleeping face before finally allowing himself some rest. He lay down, staring at the sky thoughtfully.

“He calls himself a bastard… a lunatic… but to me, he’s the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met. I don’t know how he does it… how he still smiles so genuinely… how he keeps moving forward… with what he goes through every day… after what his m—progenitor did to him… I’ll never be on his level.”

Armin let out a deep sigh and looked at his palm.

“I don’t want to be on his level,” he thought without bitterness. “I couldn’t handle what he does… but that doesn’t mean I should stop improving.”

He clenched his fist tightly, his eyes blazing with determination.

“No more excuses. I have to find a way to toughen up, to sharpen my mind, to get better. I can’t sit back while others like Eren and Amos suffer to push forward. I have to force myself to grow.”

When Zeke opened his eyes, pain coursed through his entire body—his regenerating limbs, his head riddled with trauma, his shaken organs. He panted to catch his breath and ease his suffering, scanning his surroundings to assess his situation.

“War Chief,” Reiner greeted, supporting his head. “Welcome back.”

The Beast Titan widened his eyes at his subordinate and sighed in relief.

“My glasses,” he said weakly. “In my pocket.”

Braun nodded, retrieved the item, cleaned the lenses with his shirt, and slid them onto the bearded man’s nose.

“Thanks,” Zeke replied before taking in his surroundings.

He realized they were perched on the branch of a giant tree. Judging by the sun’s position, it was just past noon. The presence of Titans below worried him slightly, but their height reassured him. He glanced at his half-regenerated limbs before his gaze settled on the two captives on a lower branch.

Eren was still unconscious, but Ymir was wide awake, eyeing the warriors warily.

Zeke raised impressed eyebrows and turned back to the Colossal and Armored Titans.

“Excellent work,” he said sincerely. “Not only did you pull me out of a hell of a mess, but you also managed to retrieve the Jaw and capture the Coordinate.”

Bertholdt lowered his head in embarrassment, while Reiner shook his.

“We’re not entirely sure this person is the Coordinate,” he replied with a soldier’s firmness. “We suspect someone else might be. It’s more likely he’s just the Attack Titan.”

The disappointment in the bearded man’s eyes didn’t escape the two young warriors. He fixed his gaze on Eren.

“The Attack Titan, you say? So that’s where it was…”

He shook his head.

“No matter. It’s still exceptional work. In time, we’ll confirm if he’s the Coordinate. If not, we’ll focus on your suspect. For now, we need to retreat, tend to our wounds, and hand our prisoners over to Captain Magath.”

Bertholdt and Reiner raised their eyebrows.

“The Captain’s here?”

“Yes, though he stayed at the port. He brought the artillery, just in case.”

The two traitors from the 104th exchanged a relieved glance, finally seeing a light at the end of the tunnel.

Braun spent the next thirty minutes reporting their infiltration mission to his superior. Zeke caught Ymir’s gaze as Reiner recounted the moment she devoured Marcel, noting the remorse in her hazel eyes. He didn’t hold it against her and continued listening until Reiner mentioned the start of their training years, interrupting when the Attack Titan’s holder was named.

“You said… Jaeger?” Zeke stammered.

His eyes widened in dread, a thin trickle of cold sweat running down his back.

“Yes,” the Armored Titan confirmed. “He’s from Shiganshina, the city in Wall Maria we had to breach.”

The Beast Titan stopped listening, now scrutinizing Eren’s unconscious face.

“It can’t be… He doesn’t look like him at all… No!”

Though gripped by genuine panic, Zeke summoned all his self-control to maintain a stoic, serious demeanor. But he couldn’t escape Ymir’s inquisitive stare.

“What do you know about his father?”

The question surprised Reiner and Bertholdt, who exchanged a wary glance.

“Not much,” the blond replied, “except that he was a doctor.”

The sky crashed down on the Beast Titan like a hammer on an anvil, but once again, he managed to keep his composure. A seething rage boiled within the bespectacled man, his teeth grinding discreetly as he kept his eyes on Eren.

“Damn you, Grisha!”