The thirst had become unbearable, a parching dryness that scraped against his throat like shards of glass. Eren sighed, his sunken eyes drifting toward the dimly lit kitchen.
His body felt like it weighed a thousand tons, but the thought of drinking water, even a sip, was enough to stir him. With a groan, he pushed himself up from the worn gaming chair. Every movement sent sharp pangs through his bruised ribs, and his knees trembled as if they might give out at any moment.
Dragging his bare feet across the littered floor, he stumbled toward the sink. Empty snack wrappers crunched underfoot, and the rancid smell of unwashed dishes greeted him like an unwelcome guest. His hand reached out, trembling, to grab a cracked glass from the counter.
As he turned the faucet, the first few drops of water dripped lazily into the glass. Eren stared at the liquid, his vision blurring slightly. His face drooped with exhaustion and defeat, a mask of quiet resignation etched into his features.
"Just water," he thought bitterly. "That's all I want. Is even this too much to ask?"
The moment his parched lips touched the glass, a sharp, searing pain exploded in his chest. The glass slipped from his hand, shattering on the grimy tiles below. His body convulsed violently, his knees buckling as he crumpled to the floor.
The pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It started deep within his chest, spreading like wildfire through every nerve and muscle.
His bones felt as though they were being twisted and shattered, his organs squeezed and torn apart by invisible claws. His hands clawed at the tiles, his nails scraping against the surface until they bled.
Eren's throat constricted, and a choked gasp escaped his lips. His eyes widened in horror as the sensation of being flayed alive coursed through him.
"What... what is this?" he gasped, saliva pooling in his mouth and dribbling down his chin. His body was drenched in sweat, his thin shirt clinging to his bony frame, now soaked and translucent.
Suddenly, an excruciating pressure erupted in his skull, as if his head were being split open from the inside. He screamed, but the sound was muffled, swallowed by the oppressive silence of the room.
What came next were vivid images of himself. As if he had already lived this life in full.
At first, they were disjointed fragments—a flash of faces he recognized but could not place, voices filled with venom and malice, and images of a world engulfed in chaos. The scenes played out in his mind like a cruel theater:
He saw his family first. His father, a man who had always regarded him as a mistake, stood over him, his face twisted in disgust. His mother, once a source of warmth, killed in a power struggle within the family.
Then came his friends, their laughter ringing in his ears. But this laughter wasn't joyous—it was mocking, cruel. They stood together, pointing fingers, their betrayal a knife twisting in his gut.
A face flashed—his fiancée. She was beautiful, her smile radiant, maybe for others but he knew her real self. But behind that smile lay deceit. He saw her in the arms of another, whispering words of love that were never meant for him.
The images shifted violently. The earth, once vibrant, was now a wasteland. Cities crumbled, swallowed by monstrous beasts and roaring flames. He saw himself standing amidst the chaos, powerless, broken.
"No..." he whimpered, his body writhing on the floor. "This... can't be real."
The onslaught of memories didn't stop. Betrayal after betrayal, loss after loss—it all crashed down on him like a tidal wave. His chest heaved, his breathing erratic.
"They... they betrayed me. All of them," he choked out between gasps, his voice trembling with anguish.
The pain was unbearable now. His bruised and battered body was pushed to its limit. His hands trembled violently, his nails digging into his palms until blood seeped out.
Sweat poured from his face, mixing with tears that he didn't even realize were falling. His nose ran freely, droplets splattering onto the tile floor, and his body trembled uncontrollably as he began to lose control of his bladder. A warm wetness spread across his clothes, soaking into the fabric.
His heart pounded against his ribs, each beat a thunderous drum echoing in the silence.
"Ba-dump. Ba-dump."
It was deafening, a desperate rhythm that seemed to scream against the inevitable. His face contorted with each passing moment, shifting from raw pain to fury, then despair.
He saw it all now—the future he had lived and lost, the betrayal he had endured, and the vengeance he had promised himself.
But his body couldn't keep up. His frail heart, already weakened by years of neglect and abuse, was overwhelmed. The emotions—the anger, the sorrow, the sheer weight of it all—were too much.
Eren's gasps grew shallower, his face turning a ghastly shade of pale. The pounding of his heart slowed, the beats growing weaker.
"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Not like this... I can't... not yet..."
His lips trembled, forming words that never came. His eyes, wide with a mixture of terror and regret, stared blankly at the ceiling. In that moment, his face froze in an expression of unfulfilled vengeance and crushed hope—a face that told a story of a boy who had fought against everything and still lost.
The final beat of his heart echoed in the stillness, and then... silence.
But that silence didn't last.
Eren's lifeless body lay sprawled on the floor, his frail frame eerily still. And then, without warning, a faint glow began to emanate from his chest. It was subtle at first, a soft light that pulsed gently, as if testing the air around it.
The glow grew brighter, spilling out across his body like liquid fire. The dim room, once steeped in shadows, was now bathed in a brilliant radiance.
And in that light, Eren's broken, battered form began to shift, as if something far greater than himself had begun to awaken.