-Broadcast-
The Pure Titan stood motionless beneath the pale moon, steam rising from its blood-soaked skin.
Then something changed in its dull, lifeless eyes.
Intelligence flickered there—human thought reasserting dominance over animal instinct. The mindless hunger receded like a tide, and consciousness returned.
There was a wet, tearing sound.
Young Eren emerged from the back of the Pure Titan's neck—half his body protruding from the grotesque flesh like a butterfly struggling free of its cocoon. Blood and viscera dripped from his torn clothes. A thin red line had appeared on his right cheek, a permanent scar from his first transformation.
The boy stood there for several minutes, unmoving, his small chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
He was processing. Accepting. Understanding.
I became a monster. And I killed three people.
His hands moved automatically, patting down his torso, checking for injuries. The bullet wound—the one that should have killed him—was gone. Not even a scar remained. All his injuries, visible and hidden, had been healed during the transformation.
Everything except his shredded clothing looked factory-new. Pristine. As if the last three days of hell had never touched his flesh.
Eren slowly raised his hands before his eyes, turning them over to examine both sides. Small hands. A child's hands. Hands that had just killed three grown men in the most brutal way imaginable.
"So this is what it feels like... to kill someone."
He waited for the guilt. The horror. The revulsion that should come from ending another human life—especially in such a savage manner.
It never came.
Instead, there was only... calm. Cold, detached calm. Like he'd stepped on an ant by the roadside. Like he'd swatted a particularly annoying mosquito.
I feel nothing, Eren realized with a mixture of relief and unease. No sympathy. No regret. Nothing.
The emptiness inside him was almost frightening in its completeness. This wasn't who he'd been three days ago. The boy who'd played with Law and eaten at the Trafalgar table wouldn't have been able to stomach this.
But that boy had died in the fires of Flevance. This new Eren—this survivor—was something else entirely.
He pulled himself fully from the Pure Titan's neck. The moment he disconnected, the five-meter body began to evaporate—flesh turning to steam, bones dissolving into white gas. Within seconds, nothing remained of the giant except scattered human remains on the forest floor.
The soldier leader's bisected corpse. The other soldiers' chewed remnants.
Evidence of Eren's first kills.
"You didn't wear protective suits this time." Eren looked down at the soldier leader's body, noting the absence of hazmat gear. "So Amber Lead Syndrome really isn't contagious after all."
The words came automatically, but the knowledge behind them—
Eren gasped, stumbling backward as foreign memories flooded his mind.
They weren't his memories. They belonged to the soldier leader—the man he'd eaten. Images, thoughts, and classified information rushing into his consciousness like water through a broken dam.
The soldier leader wasn't from a neighboring country. He was a World Government agent. CP9. His mission: eliminate all Flevance survivors. Leave no witnesses.
The World Government knew from the beginning. They knew about the Amber Lead poisoning. Knew it would kill entire generations. Knew it wasn't contagious.
They knew EVERYTHING.
More memories surfaced, each one worse than the last:
The amber lead mine's discovery, one hundred years ago. Initial tests showing toxicity. The World Government and Flevance's royal family conducting secret research, concluding that exposure wouldn't kill immediately—the poison accumulated slowly across generations.
The decision to hide the truth. To let the mining continue. To let the upper class grow wealthy while the lower class unknowingly poisoned their children and grandchildren.
The calculations. The projections. The moment when they realized the accumulated toxin would reach critical mass in this generation.
The evacuation of the royal family. The quarantine orders. The systematic massacre disguised as disease control.
All of it planned. All of it deliberate. All of it SANCTIONED.
Eren stood frozen, processing the enormity of what he'd learned.
Amber Lead Syndrome wasn't contagious. Never had been. The disease was hereditary—passed from poisoned parents to poisoned children, accumulation building until the body simply couldn't function anymore.
If the mine had never been touched, if the amber lead had stayed buried underground for a thousand years, everyone would have been fine.
But greed had won. The nobles wanted wealth. The World Government wanted profits. And when the bill came due—when the poisoned generation started dying—they simply decided to eliminate the evidence.
Every civilian in Flevance. Every child. Every innocent person who'd never chosen to mine that cursed substance.
All murdered to cover up the crime.
"Haha... hahahaha... HAHAHAHA!"
Eren's laughter echoed through the forest—high and broken and edged with hysteria. Tears streamed down his face, but he couldn't tell if they were from rage or despair or the sheer absurdity of it all.
"It turns out my birth was destined to be a joke!" He clutched his stomach, doubled over with laughter that sounded more like sobbing. "We were born poisoned! Raised poisoned! And then killed for being poisoned by the same people who POISONED US!"
The self-deprecation couldn't hide the hatred burning in his eyes—hatred so intense it seemed to have physical weight.
The World Government. The Celestial Dragons. The so-called "Gods" who rule this world.
They did this. They killed everyone. And they'll never face consequences because they consider themselves above human law.
The hatred carved itself into Eren's soul like a brand, permanent and searing.
But beneath the rage, a seed of dark purpose began to grow. Because along with the soldier leader's memories came something else—something the fruit had granted him.
Visions of the future.
Fragmentary. Disjointed. But undeniable.
Eren saw himself years older, meeting a boy in a straw hat. Becoming friends with his pirate crew. Fighting alongside them.
He saw a man in a flamingo coat, making deals with him. A partnership that would shake the world. Two young girls—Elsa and Anna—caught in the crossfire of conspiracies.
He saw his future self defeated by the Straw Hat boy, brought low after launching something called the Rumbling.
He saw a man with a red nose and clown makeup dancing through elegant halls. Every step left severed heads in his wake. World Government agents. Marines wearing "Justice" on their backs. All of them turned to headless corpses, their blood pooling into rivers that reflected the carnage.
And Eren—older, hardened, unrecognizable—waded through that knee-deep blood, following the distant figure into the light. Walking forward. Always forward. Until—
"Eren, stop it. Do you hear me? Stop it."
-Broadcast: Present Day, Inside the Founding Titan-
The memory bubble shattered.
Eren's eyes snapped open, pupils contracting as consciousness returned. Tears of blood leaked from the corners of his eyes, tracking red lines down his face.
The memories had been his torture. His burden. For years, they'd faded slightly, becoming easier to bear through sheer familiarity.
But the Rumbling had brought them all back—sharp and clear and agonizing. Every detail. Every atrocity. Every moment of suffering that led to this point.
Light suddenly flooded his vision.
Eren blinked, disoriented. Where was the darkness? The suffocating interior of the Founding Titan's mouth should have been pitch black, but now—
CRUNCH.
Massive fingers—wrapped in Armament Haki—ripped open the Founding Titan's jaw from the outside. The muscles tore. The teeth shattered under the assault. And through the newly created opening came—
"EREN! CAN YOU HEAR ME?! WAKE UP!"
Monkey D. Luffy stood at the entrance to the Founding Titan's throat, his Fourth Gear body still smoking from exertion. He'd demolished Doflamingo completely, then immediately leaped to the Founding Titan's face to begin his rescue attempt.
Breaking the jaw muscles. Shattering the front teeth with Haki-enhanced punches. Forcing his way inside to reach Eren in the depths.
The Straw Hat Captain's expression was desperate, worried, determined. Like he was trying to save a drowning friend.
"Luffy..." Eren's voice was hoarse, barely audible. "You did a good job."
Relief flooded Luffy's face. "Eren! You're okay! Come on, let's get you out of—"
"But it's too bad." Eren's smile was sad. Resigned. "It's not the right time yet."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"I'll be waiting for you... in the future."
The cryptic words left Luffy confused for a crucial three seconds. And in those three seconds, Eren acted.
Crystallization spread from his feet upward—hardened Titan material forming layer after layer around his body. The transparent substance grew like ice in fast-forward, sealing him inside in moments.
"You're just trying to escape by doing this!" Luffy's confusion turned to anger. He slammed his fist against the crystal surface. "Do you think these stones can stop me?!"
WHAM. WHAM. WHAM.
Armament Haki coated his fists, black as midnight, striking the crystal prison with enough force to shatter boulders. But the crystal didn't crack. Didn't even chip.
What the—?!
Luffy struck again, harder, pouring more power into each blow. Nothing. The crystal's hardness rivaled seastone—maybe exceeded it. Even in Fourth Gear, he couldn't make a dent.
"EREN! EREN, ANSWER ME!"
But the figure inside the crystal didn't respond. Eren's eyes were closed, his expression peaceful. Sealed away from the world. Sealed away from consequences.
The space around them began to crumble.
With Eren disconnected from the Founding Titan's consciousness, the massive body lost its animating force. The flesh started evaporating—steam rising in great clouds as the giant's form dissolved.
Luffy grabbed the crystal prison, trying to pull it free, but it was fused to the Titan's interior structure. And that structure was disappearing fast.
"Damn it! DAMN IT!"
The Founding Titan collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, its body turning to gas at visible speed. And across the world—on every island touched by the Rumbling—the mindless Titans stopped moving.
One by one, they evaporated into steam.
Mothers shielding children looked up to see their executioners dissolving. Soldiers preparing final stands watched their enemies turn to mist. Survivors huddled in ruins emerged to find nothing but settling vapor where titans had stood.
The first world-ending Rumbling was over.
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