Somewhere at a Garrison outpost south of the wall.
"Report, Squad Leader!"
"What's it about?"
"Just now, a Titan showed up below the wall—acting weird, trying to climb up. I fired over a dozen cannon shots and didn't hit it once. It seemed… aware, like it had a mind. Then it ran off!"
No sooner had the kid finished than a big hand clapped down hard on his head.
"Ow!"
"Missed every shot and you've got the nerve to report it? Blaming the Titan for running because your aim's trash? Climbing the wall? Self-aware? You think I'd buy that nonsense? I've told you before—don't let your hands shake when you fire. Treat those Titans like pigs!"
"But—"
"But what? Get lost—don't interrupt my drinking."
"Yes, sir."
The rookie took a tongue-lashing and slunk back to his solitary cannon, staring at the distant forest, still dazed.
"Maybe it's an Abnormal," he thought.
Meanwhile, deep in that forest, Rein slowly opened his eyes.
His body still burned hot, but his wounds had mostly healed—good enough.
Waking from a nap, he saw the sun dipping west, the fiery sky hiding a deep helplessness.
Rein stood, retracing his steps back to his usual spot. He needed to get there before night fell completely.
Because once darkness hit, his mind would blur, sinking into sleep.
That was a Pure Titan's fatal flaw.
He glanced back at Wall Maria, swearing silently, "I'll be back!"
Today's failure—not flattening that kid—meant word of "a mindless Titan climbing the wall" had likely spread. The Garrison would tighten defenses for sure.
"Gotta switch tactics," Rein muttered to himself.
Before night closed in, he made it back to his "home."
Calling it a home was generous—it was just a straw nest. He'd found a thick, leafy tree and layered soft, dry grass beneath it.
No choice—in the wild, a straw nest made him a king among Titans.
The mindless ones nearby? Night fell, and they'd flop anywhere—rocks, mud, didn't matter.
As the only Pure Titan with a brain, Rein figured he deserved some dignity.
Dragging his worn-out body, he collapsed into the nest at sunset, consciousness fading as he snored away.
The next day, refreshed, he picked up a stone and scratched a mark on a flat slab lying nearby.
Paradis Island, day 82 of wilderness survival.
The sun crested the horizon. Near, that long-haired Pure Titan—dazed for five days straight—stood gawking again. Another Abnormal nearby rooted around with its nose, like a pig or a dog.
They looked ridiculous, but pitiful too.
Because they'd all once been human.
"Sigh…" Rein let out his 6,723rd breath.
Yesterday's flop meant the Garrison would beef up security in that area. Should he hold off on his plan? Wait out the heat, then roll out Plan B?
He sat in his straw nest, mulling it over.
So far, he'd cooked up a few feasible ideas.
Ranked by likelihood, here's the list:
Wait for the Colossal and Armored Titans to breach the wall, then slip in. Sneak over the wall with gear. Stake out the gate, rush in the moment it opens. Train in high jumping, craft a pole-vault stick, and leap over Wall Maria. Build a fully armed "tank" and storm the gate. Make a giant slingshot and launch himself inside. Craft a hot-air balloon and float over. …Anything beyond that got too crazy to figure out.
Next up, Plan 3: barge in when the Survey Corps rides out and the gate swings wide.
Theoretically, it could work. The real snag? How to bull through under the Survey Corps' noses? Those lunatics carved up Titans like they were nothing—mowing through amateurs.
Imagining himself hacked to bits, Rein's scalp tingled. He waved the thought off fast.
Plus, the gate had the Garrison swarming overhead. Wait!
Rein shot up. "The Garrison? After yesterday, wouldn't they shift some troops around? Could the gate be wide open now?"
In a flash, ideas like feints and distractions—stuff he'd picked up from strategy games—raced through his head.
"No way!" He stood. "I've got to check it out!"
He rummaged in his straw nest, fishing out an odd object.
It was a crescent-shaped stone, slightly curved, long and narrow, edges smoothed from grinding—like a bent steel plate.
Two ends had grass ropes tied on either side.
"My level-three helmet!" Rein brushed off the debris. "Not finished, but I'll take it anyway."
He slapped it against his nape, snug against his neck, then tugged the ropes into a neat bowtie knot.
This rock? Half a month of hunting and picking, finally polished by Rein, the "master craftsman." He'd rounded the edges and carved rope slots—two days of grinding!
Full armor was a pipe dream, but at least the vital spot was covered.
In a pinch, it might just save his hide.
With his "level-three helmet" on, Rein felt his confidence spike.
"They've probably pulled troops to that spot—I'll hit the nearest gate!"
Day 82's combat plan kicked off.
Jogging south toward Wall Maria, he moved steady.
A few steps in, he passed that dazed, long-haired Titan. Five days of staring—maybe a quiet beauty in life.
"Sis, if I pull this off, the nest's yours. Lying down beats standing around," Rein said, his words just garbled noise.
No clue if the Titan got it—those unfocused eyes kept staring skyward.
Rein kept jogging, passing the Abnormal next.
These Titans, with no humans to chase, had lingered nearby for days.
Bored out of his skull, Rein greeted them daily.
Eighty-plus days alone in the wild—mental strain wasn't a joke.
Past familiar ground, he stepped into new territory.
Paradis Island's terrain was mostly flat plains, dotted with rare mountains.
With his bearings set, he hit Wall Maria's south side easy enough.
If Rein remembered right, that bastion gate was the birthplace of Attack on Titan's lead—Eren.
What year was it? No idea if that troublemaker was even born yet."