𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙋𝙖𝙨𝙩 || Eren Jaeger

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝓊𝓂𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 (𝐼𝐼)

17
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Explosions of varying degrees echo throughout the streets. The sky hangs murky gray above the battlefield. There's so much smoke pervading the air that its rendered the town colorless, cast in a haze of mournful gray.

"Is that... the last of them?" Louise asks. Her cropped blonde hair sticks to to her face, dirt-streaked and tousled.

It takes Jean a few seconds to reply. He's checked out mentally, not entirely present. "Yeah." He utters.

They stare out of the smashed-in window, waiting in the uppermost level of the half-demolished military fort. Ever since the walls fell about an hour ago, and Eren telepathically communicated his goals to the Eldian race, it's been a scramble to kill the officers-turned-titans while simultaneously avoiding the Colossals marching across town. The first wave, the outer wall of Shiganshina and Wall Maria, has passed. The next wave of Colossals that previously made up Wall Rose should be arriving at around midnight. They'll have to take shelter in the underground bunkers to avoid being crushed.

Amongst the soldiers no one has said it, but they're all thinking it: the situation is hopeless. There's no stopping an armada of 60 meter Colossals hell-bent on trampling the rest of civilization.

Louise wipes the perspiration off her brow. She's exhausted after battling titans for an hour straight. Her gut hurts slightly. Maybe she might've twisted the wrong way during combat? She ignores it, distracted by the sight of a distant silhouette making its way over. She immediately knows who it is, and she smiles. Only one person can operate maneuver gear that smooth and graceful.

"She's back."

Johanna returns. She lands next to Jean and sheathes her blades. Besides a light sheen of sweat and the snarled waterfall of silver hair now unraveled from its bun, she's barely scuffed up for someone who was just slaying Titans left and right.

"I did a final survey of the town. It seems we got them all," She says tonelessly.

Jean's frown deepens. "Rest in peace."

Louise gazes at her former instructor, admiring the glow of the peach sunset against her weary yet resilient face, the way the healed slash across her right cheek adds to her intimidating demeanor. She knows if she were to comment she'd be scolded, written off as childish and delusional, but Louise can't help remain in awe of how much she looks like a hero.

Her hero.

Jo supports herself against the wall, her body tired. Before she can stop herself she's already slid down to the floor. Unsure what to feel, or better yet, how to feel, she stares at the cracked ceiling.

"Caleb is dead." Jo announces. She's not sure how to break the news to Louise in any other way than being straightforward. It's not exactly... something you can tiptoe around.

"Oh..." Louise says absently. Her hand moves to her stomach.

"He was trying to help me. I'm sorry, kid." Jo says, spent and drained of tears.

"Are you proud of him?"

Jo pauses, nettled at such an obvious question. "Of course I am. Why would you..." She looks and notices a red stain growing larger on Louise's shirt, her hand clutching the wound.