The streets of Trost are alive long before the Scouts arrive.
Merchants pull their carts closer to the walls, children perch on barrels for a better look, and everyone—farmers, craftsmen, and soldiers alike—waits with an eager, nervous energy. The air tastes faintly of soot and metal, the ever-present scent of a city built to withstand monsters.
Then the crowd parts.
Commander Erwin Smith leads from the front, eyes sharp and thoughtful, every step steady as if measured against destiny itself. Behind him, Captain Levi walks like a shadow given human shape—silent, efficient, dangerous. Hange Zoë is already halfway through a rant about Titan anatomy, her excitement an electric contrast to the grim discipline surrounding her.
Among the crowd stands Hannes, his uniform neater than usual, hair tied back in an effort to look like a proper captain. When he spots Eren and the new graduates, his face lights up.
"Hey! Congratulations, kids! You made it."
He grins, though there's a flicker of guilt in his eyes. "Eren… I'm sorry about your mom. I should've—"
Eren cuts him off with a small shake of his head. "You did what you could."
There's no anger, no bitterness—only quiet understanding. For a moment, Hannes looks both relieved and ashamed. Then the Scouts move past, their banners catching the wind like tattered wings, and the moment fades.
Later that day, the new soldiers are stationed atop Wall Rose, maintaining the cannons and running through final checks. The vastness of the land below stretches endlessly—green fields scarred by memory.
Not far from them, Sasha bites into a piece of meat she clearly shouldn't have.
"I, uh… may have borrowed this from the officers' storeroom," she admits, voice muffled. "Couldn't let them eat it all!"
"Wait, you stole meat?!" Mina stares in disbelief.
"Borrowed," Sasha corrects with a sheepish grin. "I'll return it after we win."
Even Eren cracks a small smile. For a heartbeat, everything feels normal—banter, nerves, and laughter blending with the wind.
Then the sky splits open.
A lightning strike slams into the ground beyond the wall, blinding white and impossibly loud. The air itself seems to scream. Every head snaps toward the source, and before anyone can process it—
He appears.
The Colossal Titan towers over them, its immense form materializing in an explosion of heat and steam. It's so huge that it blots out the horizon, a red mountain of exposed muscle and bone, glowing faintly in the sun's dying light.
The shockwave hits a moment later.
Heat lashes across the wall like fire. The platform shakes violently, sending several cadets sprawling. Eren's heart hammers as instinct takes over.
"Grab your gear! Move!" he shouts. "We can't let it breach the wall!"
But the Titan's hand is already moving. With one swift, godlike strike, it smashes open the outer gate of Trost. The roar of twisting metal and falling stone drowns out every other sound. Debris flies like shrapnel. Samuel is struck on the head and goes limp, toppling toward the abyss—until Sasha dives after him.
She catches him by his harness and uses her ODM gear to pull them both back to safety, gritting her teeth. "You're not dying today, damn it!"
Around her, chaos reigns—steam, screams, confusion—but through it all, Eren's mind stays unnervingly calm. His eyes fix on the Colossal's face.
It's time.
Without a word, he tightens his harness, checks the gas canister, and leaps over the wall. The world tilts as he launches himself forward, propelled by the hiss of compressed air. The Colossal looms like a nightmare, its heat searing the skin from ten meters away, but Eren doesn't slow down.
He weaves through the rising steam, invisible to those on the wall. The closer he gets, the more distorted everything becomes—sound muffled, light blinding. He swings low, then fires his cables again, arcing upward in a precise, practiced motion. In moments, he's behind the Titan's neck—its blind spot.
Perfect.
A second later, he vanishes into the steam.
From the steam emeges a titan with no cheeks. All of it's teeth visible ready to bite into anything it sees with it's menaching emerald eyes.
Eren now transformed into the Attack titan bites the nape of the colosaal titan and eats Berthold.
Poor Berthold doesn't even register what happened to him.
-----
On the wall, Mikasa feels something in her chest twist. She looks around, eyes scanning the chaos. "Eren? Where is he?!"
"Maybe he fell—" Armin starts, but she's already moving toward the edge, scanning the air below.
Before she can jump, a burst of steam clears—and Eren reappears, landing roughly on the parapet. His uniform is singed, smoke curling from his sleeves, but he's alive. He catches his breath, shoulders heaving.
"Where were you?" Armin demands.
Eren wipes soot from his cheek. "I… thought I saw a breach forming. Went to check it out."
Mikasa narrows her eyes. "You're lying."
He just shrugs, not meeting her gaze. "Didn't want to waste time explaining."
Better a lie than the truth, he thinks quietly. They're not ready to know.
Because deep down, beneath the ash and adrenaline, Eren feels it—the weight, the heat, the strange, monstrous presence that now thrums in his blood. The Colossal Titan's power. He has it. All of it.
His expression remains calm, almost detached, but inside, his thoughts are cold and sharp as a blade.
One more piece acquired. The game continues.
The battlefield is silent for a moment. Then someone points to the horizon.
"The Colossal—it's gone!"
A wave of disbelief ripples through the cadets. The massive form that had blotted out the sun is nowhere to be seen. Only steam remains, rising like ghostly curtains into the sky.
"Did it… disappear?" Armin breathes.
"No," Eren says quietly. "It retreated."
For a fleeting instant, hope flickers among the soldiers. But it dies just as quickly.
Because on the open plains beyond the gate, the Titans come.
Dozens of them, walking on twisted legs, faces frozen in grotesque smiles. Their shadows stretch long across the earth as they approach the shattered gate of Trost.
A cold dread spreads through the ranks. Some cadets whisper prayers, others fumble with their blades, hands trembling. The air fills with the metallic click of ODM locks and the dry rasp of fear.
Eren watches them all—Mikasa's steady stance, Armin's trembling resolve, the wide-eyed terror of the others—and for a heartbeat, he almost feels something like pity.
Almost.
Then his face hardens. "Form up!" he yells, voice cutting through the panic. "We hold the line until command arrives! If they break through, the district's finished!"
The recruits move, adrenaline overriding terror. The air hisses with cables and the clang of steel. Mikasa steps forward, her expression unreadable. "Eren," she says softly, "don't do anything reckless."
He gives her a small, tired smile. "Reckless? Me? Never."
But as he turns back to the burning skyline, his eyes darken.
This is only the beginning, he tells himself. I have what I came for. Now I just need to use it.
Below, the Titans continue their march—slow, deliberate, unstoppable.
The Wall trembles beneath their approach, and the shadow of war stretches long across the hearts of the young soldiers standing upon it.
For them, this is the first battle.
For Eren, it's the first step of a plan only he understands.
He looks toward the horizon, wind tugging at his jacket, and whispers under his breath—
"Let the world burn if it must. I'm ready."
And somewhere, far beneath the surface, the new power inside him stirs—silent, vast, and waiting.
End of Chapter 32