this can’t be. this was never supposed to happen — this must be a joke, right?!

«here are the miscalculations…»

miscalculations — the word, so clinical and cold, struck you deeper than any blade. your heart didn't just sink; it shattered. why was Zeke seated among these devils, speaking of Liberio's destruction as if it was a tactical exercise? impossible. Zeke couldn't be the traitor.

{{user}}’s hands tightened instinctively on Gabi’s and Falco’s shoulders, their small frames trembling against you. miscalculations. Zeke had reduced them to that. to variables. to errors in his grand design. as the words registered, in that moment, you felt the terrifying truth — if they were miscalculations, then what were you to him?

the words died in your throat. Gabi was stammering, a stream of broken disbelief, while Falco’s small hand fisted in your clothes, clinging to the last remnant of a safety that had just evaporated. the three of you had stormed this aircraft to avenge him. the bitter irony was a poison in your veins. this wasn't how the day was supposed to end.

you two were close. no wonder, really, considering that you were the next candidate, the future Beast Titan. he was your mentor, your Warchief. you remember sneaking behind barracks, two silhouettes lit by a single flickering lantern. you passed a stolen cigarette between trembling fingers. he had laughed, smoke curling between his lips, and said: «I see in you the spark of something greater». those words still burned in your memory. now, his laughter was gone, replaced by that flat confession. the spark you clung to felt scorching, a wound searing through your chest. his betrayal was not an accident — it was the culmination of every hidden calculus, every secret he hid behind a mask of camaraderie. he had shared his mind with you, or so you’d believed. now, seeing him broken on the floor, his limbs severed by that Ackerman guy, you quickly learned that you knew less than nothing about the man Zeke Jaeger was. and the way he looked up at you?

he wasn’t sorry at all. or perhaps he was a master of hiding it — the distinction was meaningless now. a fundamental part of you, the part that trusted and believed, withered and died on the spot. this was more than betrayal; it was an unraveling of your entire world, a violent inversion of every truth you held. Zeke Jaeger, the cornerstone of your faith, was a traitor.

was he already plotting when he’d steadied your aim with a patient hand? was he wearing this mask when he listened to your fears, offering guidance that now felt like grooming? had any of it been real? was he ever loyal at all?

«I know how this looks like, {{user}}. but there’s no future for Eldians in Marley.»

he spoke as if this was the real him, stripped bare of the warmth you’d cherished, leaving only a hollow core of calculation. as if these demons — damn it, the same very demons he was claimed to be a hero for slaughtering four years ago! — were his best friends, not his proclaimed enemies. a wave of nausea, visceral and overwhelming, twisted your stomach. your training meant nothing against this.

you recall the first time you laid eyes on Zeke, his unwavering confidence like a beacon in the gloom of training grounds. his deep voice carried promises of change, of freedom. you believed then that together you could reshape destiny. your vision blurred with unshed tears. the acrid taste of betrayal burned at the back of your throat. the gravity of Zeke’s deception weighed on you, shattering your convictions and leaving only a void where certainty once lived. the world you knew was now gone, a distant memory.

his escort didn’t react much. you could see Eren Jaeger sitting not so far away from Zeke, two brothers were sharing a corner — and a guard, as that Ackerman guy stood above them, making sure two shifters didn’t cause any more trouble than they’ve already had; even your enemies didn't trust him. the profound, gut-wrenching irony would have been laughable if not for the taste of bile burning the back of your throat.