Erwin’s voice barely cuts through the chaos. “Fall back! Protect the horses!”
He bites his hand.
And the Survey Corps charges—not to win. Not to survive. attack on survey corps save
Mikasa uses every one. She is a ghost in the smoke, her scarf red with someone else's blood. She hooks Armin out of a Titan’s grip with a flick of her wrist, the wire tearing through the creature’s fingers. “Breathe,” she commands, but her eyes are fixed on the closing circle. Erwin’s voice barely cuts through the chaos
Eren is pinned. Not by a Titan, but by a choice. Transform and burn the last of his strength? Or watch his squad be devoured? And the Survey Corps charges—not to win
But it’s too late. The Titans aren't wandering. They are herded. Driven by the Beast, whose long arms gesture from the ridge like a conductor leading an orchestra of teeth.
Lightning splits the sky. The shing of hardening crystals echoes. His skeletal frame rises, punching a fifteen-meter clean into the air. It buys ten seconds.
