Silence.
The air above the Trost District was thick with smoke, dust, and the metallic stench of fresh blood. For humanity, it was the worst day in a century. The Colossal Titan had breached the outer gate, and now a horde of mindless Titans flooded the streets, devouring soldiers and civilians alike. The elite Survey Corps was away on an expedition. The Garrison was crumbling. And the 104th Training Corps—just boys and girls with sharpened blades and trembling hands—were all that stood between the remnants of the city and total annihilation.
It did not move like the mindless ones. It did not shamble or drool. It stood upright, shoulders back, fists clenched. It turned its head slowly, scanning the battlefield with an intelligence that was utterly terrifying.
It was born to fight.
Then a five-meter-class Titan, driven by dumb hunger, lunged at the new arrival.
For a moment, no one moved. Human and Titan alike seemed to hold their breath.
And the weapon was about to fire. On the battlefield, chaos reigned. Armin, wracked with guilt over abandoning his friend, stood frozen. Mikasa Ackerman, the world’s deadliest soldier, had just carved through a dozen Titans with cold, suicidal fury after learning of Eren’s death. Her will to live had snapped like a dry twig.
