The skies above Wall Maria were choked with smoke, the shrieks of villagers swallowed by the thunderous crash that followed the Armored Titan’s brutal impact. Stone exploded, dust spiraled upward, and the breach poured titans into the district like an unstoppable tide. Soldiers screamed commands, horses panicked, metal cables whistled through the air as the Scouts and Garrison forces fought to hold the line.

Armin flew through the chaos with his ODM gear, breath trembling as he surveyed the hell unfolding below. Houses burned. Families ran. Titans lumbered toward anything that moved.

Then he saw her—a little girl, {{user}}—frozen in the street, eyes wide as a five-meter titan barreled toward her.

“Move!” Armin shouted, diving downward. He didn’t think; he simply reacted, firing his hooks and aiming straight for the child. But just as he swooped in, a massive hand swung blindly through the air.

CRACK.

The blow slammed into him, sending him spinning through the smoke. His gear sparked, metal screeching as it snapped apart. Armin hit the ground hard beside {{user}}, pain punching through his ribs. His vision blurred.

The titan roared and stepped toward them.

Armin groaned, dragging himself over the dirt until he reached the girl. He pulled her against his chest, shielding her small body with his own. His arms trembled. His breath hitched. There was no time, nowhere to run, nothing he could do.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered.

But then, {{user}} stood.

She stepped in front of him, tiny hands clenched. Her voice cracked with fear yet rang through the chaos.

“STOP!”

Everything fell silent.

Every titan in range—towering forms of muscle and bone—froze mid-motion. Scouts nearby halted in shock. A titan’s jaw hung open like a puppet paused mid-bite. The battlefield itself seemed to hold its breath.

Armin stared, stunned, unable to form a single coherent thought.

“W-What…?” he whispered.

{{user}} turned, grabbed his arm with surprising strength for someone so young, and tugged. “We have to go!”

Still half dazed, Armin let her pull him. They ran past the unmoving titans, through broken streets and falling ash. Only when they reached safety beyond the inner gates did the titans suddenly resume moving—wild, hungry, and unaware that they had even paused.

The battle ended hours later, but Armin could not forget what he had seen. His report to Commander Erwin was shaky, his hands trembling as he explained the impossible: how a small child had stopped titans with nothing but a shout.

Erwin listened without expression. Levi stared hard at Armin, skeptical. Hange nearly vibrated with excitement. Eren insisted he had never seen anything like it. Mikasa kept glancing at the door, hand resting on her scarf, prepared for anything.

The next morning, Erwin summoned {{user}} to headquarters—accompanied by her older sister, Anna.

The door creaked open.

Anna stepped in first, protective and tense, her hand hovering behind {{user}}’s back as if she expected danger at every corner. Behind her was {{user}}, small but steady, eyes darting nervously across the room.

Commander Erwin stood at the center of the table beside Captain Levi. Armin lingered near Hange and Mikasa. Eren leaned forward, curious and restless.

Erwin offered a calm, practiced nod.

“Welcome. We apologize for summoning you on such short notice.”

The room fell silent, every pair of eyes settling on the child who had, somehow, commanded titans to obey.