Levi's boot pressed down on Zeke's face with all the elegance of a sledgehammer.
"Long time no see, you dead monkey!" Levi snarled. "You look awfully relaxed for someone who should be in a cell!"
He didn't even try to hide his rage.
Step! Step! Step!
Each stomp echoed like punctuation marks in a long-overdue lesson.
Zeke, weak and half-buried in dirt, could only wheeze: "Levi… you're finally here… you took your time."
"You think I'm late?" Levi snapped, voice sharp as a blade. "Who the hell would follow this kind of dumb trail?"
Zeke coughed a laugh. "It'd be strange if you didn't notice it. Such an obvious monkey face—"
"So just to get our attention, you let birds shit on my head?" Levi's voice rose an octave in fury. He pressed down harder with his boot.
"I noticed you keep talking about shit and fart," Zeke said hoarsely, "so I figured you'd like the gift from the sky…"
"LIKE IT?!" Levi bellowed. "Tell me, who in their right mind would like that?"
He yanked Zeke up by the collar, eyes blazing. "Monkey, how do you wanna die?"
"I want to live—"
Before he could finish, a silver flash sliced between them.
A knife whistled through the air—aimed not at Levi, but so close that it trimmed a few strands off the top of Zeke's head.
"Hey! Levi!" drawled a familiar voice. "What're you doing to my weak, helpless little prince?"
Levi had already twisted out of the way in time, but Zeke's hair floated down in slow motion.
The poor man stared at the fEren tufts mournfully. "You two are fighting each other—why am I the one getting hurt?!"
(For the record: bending Levi's neck = the top of Zeke's head when he's sitting.)
Levi's gun snapped up immediately, barrel pressing into Kenny Ackerman's gut.
Kenny's face crumpled. "...You really got no sense of morality, brat."
Levi's tone was ice. "Beyond ten paces, the gun's fastest. Within ten, the gun's fast and accurate. Who taught me that, Kenny?"
Kenny spread his hands helplessly. "I get the logic—but why the hell are you using our Gendarmerie's gun?"
Levi blinked. Indeed, the pistol in his hand had the unicorn crest of the Military Police Regiment.
"I was about to ask you the same thing!" Levi barked. "Why are you holding our Survey Corps blade, you thieving bastard? You must've looted it off one of the dead!"
Thinking of the comrades lost in the Royal Capital, Levi's fury reignited. He lunged, slicing at Kenny with reckless speed.
Kenny barely blocked the blow, sliding backward with sparks flying. "Hey, hey! It was your leader who gave it to me!"
"Bullshit!" Levi roared. "That old man wouldn't hand over so much as a spoon to you!"
He fired a string of shots—bang! bang! bang!—but Kenny dove behind a nearby house.
The bullets shredded the wooden wall, leaving a trail of holes but no blood.
"Shit!" Levi cursed, about to reload—
A hand pushed his arm up just in time, sending the next shot harmlessly skyward.
"Levi."
Erwin's calm voice cut through the tension like a command bell.
Levi glared, but Erwin's eyes were fixed on the gas tank on Kenny's back. "What that man said seems to be true. His gear's still full. If he'd looted it after a fight, the tanks or cables would show damage. But that set's in perfect condition—like it came from our spare inventory. Regular enemies couldn't access that."
Levi frowned, confused but not convinced.
From behind the wall, Kenny's teasing voice floated out. "See? Even your fancy commander gets it! Your captain gave it to me, kid! Not only have you stayed short, you've stayed stupid!"
The Survey Corps collectively froze.
Levi's glare could've cut through steel. "Erwin, he killed our people! You can't just—"
A wounded yell came from the other side of the building. "My people were killed by you Survey freaks!"
The soldiers blinked. Wait… was that true?
Erwin, ever the strategist, quickly shifted gears. "Hold on. Are we sure this man is an enemy?"
The question wasn't directed at Levi—it was aimed at Zeke.
Zeke blinked, rubbing the sore spot on his head. "Yes."
"Why ask him?" Levi snapped. "He's delirious! Kenny's the enemy—have you forgotten today's ambush? If I hadn't arrived in time, we'd all be corpses!"
But Erwin's gaze remained on Zeke, waiting.
"Although… a lot happened yesterday," Zeke said slowly, "Kenny's definitely on our side now."
A beat of silence passed.
"Alright," Erwin said finally. "Everyone, lower your weapons."
The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, but obeyed. Levi, however, didn't move.
"You're letting the murderer go? Just because a talking monkey says so?!"
Zeke shrugged. "If you really wanted revenge, you shouldn't have held back when you shot at him."
Levi: "What did you say?"
"Look at where you aimed," Zeke said mildly. "Do you really think a man who's 1.9 meters tall has his heart at the same height as someone who's 1.6 meters?"
Levi's expression froze.
Sure enough, the bullet holes on the wall were all just a bit too low.
Before he could retort, chaos struck again.
Villagers stormed in from behind, waving pitchforks and broomsticks. "You bastards! What are you doing to His Highness?!"
The Survey Corps reeled, trying not to draw their swords—since killing civilians was absolutely forbidden.
The soldiers were smacked, grabbed, and pelted with farm tools, reduced to curling up on the ground in confusion.
"Stop! Stop!" Zeke waved his arms frantically. "They're my friends—no, my brother's friends!"
"His Highness's… friends?" The villagers froze, startled.
The man who'd led Erwin's squad into town turned pale. "I—I saw them stab His Highness! I thought they were enemies! I brought enemies into the village!"
"Don't panic," Zeke soothed with a smile. "They're really my brother's friends. Especially that dwarf over there—Levi. He hasn't put down his knife since he met me."
Levi's eye twitched violently. (눈_눈)
The villagers exchanged nervous laughs and awkwardly dispersed. "Ah, good! They're not enemies, haha… back to cleaning the houses, then…"
Once the confusion settled, Erwin hurried to Zeke's side, his tone all business. "Zeke, are you alright? You look pale. Were you injured? Will it affect your Titan transformations?"
But Zeke wasn't listening.
He was staring at his own neck.
The bite mark that had been torn open yesterday—gone.
The bruises from the torture—gone.
Even the gunshot holes on his shoulder were closing up, tiny wisps of white steam curling from them.
"…?"
Erwin's instincts flared. He stepped forward, gripped Zeke's chin, and commanded, "Open your mouth."
Zeke obediently went, "Ahhh~"
Two neat rows of perfect white teeth gleamed back.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then Erwin's face darkened. He shoved Zeke away, hand flying to his weapon.
"Who are you?!"