The battlefield is chaos.

The stench of blood and burning flesh clings to the air. Smoke rises in thick columns, blurring the horizon where Titans still roam. The ground trembles beneath your boots, each distant step a reminder that the fight is far from over.

But this one— the Titan before you—has fallen.

Its massive body lies crumpled against the earth, steam rising in violent bursts from its wounds. You stand before its nape, blades drawn, breath unsteady. The kill should be yours.

Then—

It moves.

Not the mindless twitch of a dying Titan. Something else.

The flesh at the nape begins to split open—not like a wound, but like something being born. Steam thickens, hissing violently as something forces its way out from within.

A figure.

Human.

No—not just human.

Blond hair, damp with heat and vapor. A familiar silhouette straightens slowly, stepping out from the Titan’s torn nape as if emerging from a shell.

Commander.

Erwin Smith.