[Punishment Complete....]
[Now returning to the real world....]
Eren's turquoise eyes snapped open as faint orange light seeped through the translucent fabric of his tent, casting soft, shifting patterns over his face.
The low murmur of voices from outside reached his ears, breaking the dark night's stillness. He exhaled deeply, pushing himself upright and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
The light chatter grew louder, accompanied by shadows stretching across the tent. He watched as three figures approached, their movements etched against the canvas.
"Lenz, how long before we can sleep, huh?" came an irritated voice, breaking through the quiet. Eren sighed, recognizing it immediately, as he unzipped the tent and stepped outside, the cool air brushing against his face. His sharp gaze landed on the trio waiting for him: Porco, Marcel and Pieck.
Eren nodded curtly, his tone flat as he addressed them. "You may rest. Make sure to get up by dawn."
Porco scowled, his frustration evident as he bit out, "Dawn? My ass. You mean we're only getting five hours of sleep? That's it?"
Eren let out a slow, deliberate sigh, sliding his hands into his pockets. His turquoise eyes fixed on Porco, calm yet piercing. "Stop whining and leave Galliard... I don't have time to deal with your useless complains..."
Before the tension could escalate further, Pieck stepped in with her usual composed tone. "Thank you, Eren. Porco, let's go."
But Porco wasn't finished. His temper flared as he snapped back, "Tch... The hell's wrong with you. Just because you're from the nobility, don't expect us to bow down to you! We're not giving you any royal treatment."
Eren turned his back, unwilling to entertain the argument further. His footsteps crunched softly against the dirt as he walked away. But then Porco made his mistake—grabbing Eren's shoulder to stop him.
"I'm not done—"
Porco's words were cut off mid-sentence as Eren's fist shot out, connecting solidly with his jaw. The impact sent Porco stumbling to the ground.
"Porco!" Pieck shouted, her fists clenched as she looked between Eren and the fallen cadet.
Eren calmly walked over. His boot pressed firmly against Porco's chest, pinning him to the ground. Porco grunted in pain, his hands clawing at Eren's leg in a futile attempt to push it away.
His strength wasn't enough; Eren didn't budge an inch. Blood trickled from the corner of Porco's mouth as he clenched his teeth in frustration.
He struggled harder, his breaths growing heavier. Still, Eren remained unmoving, his expression blank, almost cold.
"Eren, please," Pieck's soft voice cut through the tension. She stepped closer, wrapping her small hands around Eren's arm, her touch gentle as she pleaded. "I'm begging you. Let him go. He's had enough."
"Eren," Reiner's deeper voice followed, calm yet commanding. "Hey, don't hurt him. That's enough now."
Eren's icy gaze shifted to Reiner, the intensity in his eyes unwavering. The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged, as if the forest itself held its breath.
Finally, Eren stepped back, releasing Porco from his grip. Porco gasped, clutching his chest as he glared up at Eren with defiance burning in his eyes.
Eren's dry gaze lingered on Porco for a moment before he looked away, sensing the tension crackling in the air.
"You little—" Porco growled, struggling to his feet. But before he could fully rise, Eren's feet shot up, connecting with his chin in a brutal strike. The force sent Porco's head snapping back, and his body crumpled to the ground, limp and unconscious.
"Galliard, Finger," Eren's voice cut through the stunned silence, calm yet commanding. "Take him to his tent. The rest of you—make sure you're up by dawn. Understood?"
The group nodded in unison, their expressions a mix of unease and submission. Eren let out a quiet sigh, turning on his heel and making his way to the campfire.
He sank down in front of the crackling flames, their orange and red glow flickering across his face. His eyes fixated on the dancing fire, though his mind seemed far removed, lost in the haze of his thoughts.
"View Inventory," he murmured.
A glowing menu materialized before him, translucent yet vivid, filled with rows of items and tools. Eren's gaze shifted across the list, his expression unreadable, before a soft sigh escaped his lips.
[Skill Activated: Clone]
A ripple of light emanated from him, and suddenly, a perfect replica of Eren materialized by his side. The clone sat motionless, its blank eyes staring ahead, awaiting orders.
Eren instructed it to remain seated and unresponsive, ensuring it would appear aloof if anyone attempted to engage with it. Not that Eren cared what others thought of him.
Reaching into the menu, Eren grasped a black, ominous key, its surface etched with glowing runes. From the same inventory, he withdrew two massive, enchanted daggers, their blades gleaming faintly in the firelight with an otherworldly aura.
"System, lock inventory," he commanded.
A notification flashed, confirming his choice. With the inventory sealed, Eren forfeited access to potions, armor, and backup equipment. All he had now were the daggers—and his resolve.
Before him, the air distorted, and with a low hum, a swirling purple door materialized. The very air around it seemed to shiver, exuding a chilling, malevolent aura.
[Difficulty Level: SS Rank]
Eren's jaw tightened as the notification hovered in the corner of his vision. This was only his second SS-ranked challenge, and the memory of his first—brutal and nearly fatal—gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. He drew in a deep, steadying breath, his grip tightening on the daggers.
The cold air seemed to press heavier as he stepped forward, resolute, into the glowing portal.
Far from the camp, the night was far less forgiving.
While Eren's group enjoyed an uneasy peace, guarded by their unrelenting leader, Mikasa's squad faced an entirely different ordeal.
———————————
MOVE AN INCH, AND I'LL BLOW YOUR FUCKING BRAINS OUT!"
The man's booming voice tore through the forest, rough and unrelenting. His dark, sunken eyes glinted beneath a stitched face, and his bald head glistened faintly in the moonlight. A rifle rested menacingly in his grip as he yanked Jean by his hair.
Jean's face was a mess—blood trickling from a nasty gash on his cheek where the rifle's butt had connected moments earlier. He gritted his teeth, helpless as he was dragged to the center of the clearing.
"You three, grab the rest of their equipment," the leader barked, his tone sharp as a blade.
The bandits moved swiftly, pilfering the squad's ODM gear with practiced efficiency. It was clear this wasn't their first raid. Underground markets thrived on stolen equipment, and ODM gear fetched a high price among thieves lurking in the depths.
Almost all the cadets' gear was confiscated—except for Jean's and Bertholdt's. The two had managed to hide theirs just in time during their night shift, a fleeting stroke of luck amidst the chaos.
Nearby, Ymir held Christa close, her voice a shaky whisper as she tried to shield her from the worst of it. "Christa… don't worry. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you." She pressed a kiss to the blonde's hair, but her trembling betrayed her own fear.
One of the bandits, however, had other intentions.
"Well, well," he sneered, stepping closer, his leering gaze fixed on the two girls. "Look at this little gem." His smirk widened as he crouched down, eyeing Christa like a predator sizing up prey.
"Get the fuck away, you filthy bastard!" Ymir snapped, her arms tightening protectively around Christa. But her strength couldn't match his as he grabbed Christa by the arm and yanked her forward.
"Hey," the man called out to the leader, a wicked grin twisting his lips. "Mind if I take this one? Been a while since I've had some fun."
The leader glanced over, his disinterest evident. "Do what you want," he muttered with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Christa screamed, struggling against the man's grip, her desperate cries echoing through the forest. "Ymir! Eren! Please—help!"
Ymir lunged forward, but another bandit shoved her back, throwing her back as she fell into Bertholdt's arms. "Let me go!" she yelled, thrashing against his hold.
"Ymir, stop!" Bertholdt hissed, his voice trembling as he tightened his grip. "They'll kill you!"
The man dragging Christa paused briefly, his gaze flicking over the unconscious form of Mikasa lying nearby. Her once-fierce presence was reduced to a battered shadow—her cheek sliced open, blood trickling down her nose and lip.
"Not that one?" another bandit asked, pointing at Mikasa.
"Nah," the man holding Christa replied with a cruel laugh. "Her face is already wrecked. This one's way cuter."
The leader didn't respond, his attention already shifting elsewhere.
As the bandits loaded their spoils onto carts, Christa's voice grew fainter, her cries fading into the cold night. Ymir's screams of anguish pierced the air, her voice raw as Bertholdt held her back.
Tears streamed down her face, helplessness washing over her as she watched Christa disappear into the shadows.
The camp fell eerily quiet, save for Ymir's broken sobs and the distant rumble of the bandits' retreat.
Armin knelt beside Mikasa, tending to her battered form while Jean sat nearby, clutching his injured cheek. The silence between them was heavy, punctuated only by Ymir's muffled sobs as she crumpled to the ground.
"Christa..." Ymir whispered under her breath, her voice trembling. Her hands clenched into fists as her teary eyes stared blankly into the shadows.
She didn't know what to do. Even if they pursued the bandits, how could they fight them? The enemy had rifles, while they had nothing but desperation.
"The hell are we doing here?!" Ymir suddenly snapped, her voice breaking through the stillness. She shot to her feet, her eyes blazing as she stormed over to Armin and grabbed his collar. "Why aren't we chasing them? Christa's in danger! Don't you care?!"
Armin staggered back but didn't resist, his calm, tired gaze meeting Ymir's wild, tear-streaked face.
"Ymir... she's gone... we can't save her... not in this condition."
Ymir's gaze shifted at the limp brunette laying. "Mikasa.... she... she can do something..." Ymir thought.
Mikasa's name was a cry of hope, a plea for salvation, as Ymir turned toward her, trembling. Mikasa stirred, her body aching and bruised. Her gaze swept the clearing, confused, until Ymir's broken voice reached her.
"They took her!" Ymir shouted, her hands shaking as she clutched Mikasa's arm. "They took Christa, Mikasa! She's gone! Please—please, do something!"
Mikasa's mind raced, her heart pounding as she processed Ymir's words. The realization hit her like a knife to the chest. Christa, the kindest among them, had been taken by those monsters. If they didn't act, she would be subjected to a fate worse than death.
Mikasa's fists clenched, her entire body trembling as she sat upright. "Armin," she said, her voice low and steady despite the fury burning in her eyes. "Tell me we have a chance."
Armin hesitated, his face pale, but he finally nodded. "It's slim, but... we can catch them if we move now. They're on carts, and we still have Bertholdt's and Jean's gear. But Mikasa..." His voice faltered. "They have rifles. We can't just charge in—we'll get ourselves killed."
"Then so be it," Mikasa said, her voice sharp as steel. Her eyes burned with determination. "I won't let Christa fall into the same hell Eren saved me from. We have to try, no matter the cost."
Armin's jaw tightened as he glanced at the flickering orange light spilling through the dense trees. His azure eyes gleamed with an idea.
"Then we'll split into two teams," Armin said, his voice gaining strength as he formulated a plan. "Mikasa and Bertholdt will use the gears to take the lead and ambush them from the trees. Jean and I will flank them on our horses, keeping them pinned. We'll have to stay hidden and strike hard before they can react."
The group exchanged glances, the faint spark of hope igniting in their weary hearts. It was reckless, it was dangerous—but it was their only chance.
Mikasa nodded ordering. "Let's move then."
Ymir wiped her tears and stood, determination hardening her face. "I'm coming too."
Armin opened his mouth to argue but stopped. He could see it in her eyes—there was no stopping her now.
The group rose, readying themselves for the fight of their lives. The forest seemed to hold its breath as they prepared to face the unknown.
"Eren..." Armin whispered under his breath, his heart aching. "We need you..."