⚔️ Chapter Nine: Death Was Easier
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POV: Kaelen
Carla had passed out.
Her breathing was shallow. Her skin pale. The fabric of her blouse stained with blood so dark it looked black in the fading light.
Kaelen ran.
Every muscle screamed. His arms ached from her weight. But he didn't slow.
He was always strong. But luck had never once been on his side.
And today, it seemed, death was determined to catch him.
A deep rumble split the air.
Kaelen looked up.
Through the smoke, a new shape emerged—not tall like the Colossal Titan, but broader, plated in bone-white armor that shimmered under the ash. It charged the inner gate, fists crashing against the wall.
The stone exploded inward.
Kaelen swore under his breath.
The second gate was down.
Nowhere was safe.
He slowed, scanning the area. Streets in ruins. Corpses buried in flame. The sound of titan roars getting closer, louder.
If he followed the crowd through the inner gate, he'd die. Trampled. Eaten.
A pathetic death.
And for the first time in a long time, Kaelen felt something unfamiliar in his throat.
Laughter.
It bubbled up like bile, bitter and sharp.
"This," he muttered between breaths, "is exactly what Eren said. Cattle behind walls."
...
He looked around.
There—a crushed soldier beneath a collapsed rooftop. Dead. Half-buried.
But the ODM gear strapped to their chest…
Still intact.
Kaelen dashed to it.
His hands worked fast. Unbuckling, shifting straps, examining pieces. He'd never touched this tech before—but intuition kicked in like second nature.
He pointed the grapple.
Click.It fired.The cable shot up toward the inner wall.
The hook slammed into the stone—and held.
For now.
Kaelen looked up.
A long climb. One hand. Carla in the other.
He felt his heartbeat slow. His breathing level out.
There was no other option.
He began to climb.
...
It was worse than any nightmare.
One arm pulling. Two legs pushing. His grip slipping against blood-soaked palms. Carla's weight is dragging him off-center with every inch.
Below—Titan's hands stretched and clawed.One leapt. Missed by meters.
Kaelen didn't flinch.
"I swear if I drop her, I'll haunt myself."
The line swayed with every gust of wind. Every movement threatened collapse.
He climbed anyway.
Midway up, he felt it.
A presence.
Not fear.
Not hunger.
Something else.
Pity.
His empathy flickered—sensitive, sharpened from years of suppressed feeling.
But this wasn't from a human.
Kaelen turned his head—and almost fell.
The Armored Titan stood below, head tilted back.
Its bright yellow eyes locked onto his.
Not angry.
Not mindless.
Just… watching.
Kaelen stared.
The Titan turned—and walked away.
He blinked.
"What the hell…"
Then Carla slipped.
He gasped, grabbing her tighter, anchoring them both with his legs.
He couldn't afford distraction.
Not now.
...
He reached the top.
Barely.
His body collapsed forward, half-dragging Carla over the final ledge.
The cable behind them snapped—a sickening twang as a Titan below yanked it free.
Too late.
They were safe.
Kaelen crawled a few feet away from the edge and rolled Carla onto her back.
She didn't stir.
Blood pooled beneath her, soaking into the stone.
Kaelen cursed again.
Then grabbed the bottom of his pants and ripped the fabric.
He worked quickly, wrapping it tightly around what remained of her legs, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. His fingers were shaking now. Not from fear.
From exhaustion.
"You're alive," he murmured. "Dumb luck. But alive."
He collapsed next to her.
His breath came in ragged gasps.
Muscles locking. Hands numb.
The sun was dim behind the smoke. The screams below had turned into background noise—distant and unreal.
Kaelen closed his eyes.
Just for a moment.
...
In the stillness, his thoughts whispered.
| You're not a hero.|
|You just didn't want to die like the rest.|
| You made a decision. Not to be saved—but to survive.|
| At any cost.|
And in the silence that followed, Kaelen finally allowed himself to pass out.
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Setting: Post-Trost, a casual get-together at Krista's houseFeaturing: Sasha, Krista, Conny, Jean
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The streets of Trost were still rough in places—stones cracked, a few buildings boarded up—but the air was light that afternoon.
Sunshine filtered down on two figures strolling side-by-side, both wearing fresh Scout Regiment uniforms. One of them was humming a tune, the other… trying very hard not to drool.
"Hey! That's not for you," Krista scolded gently, tugging the grocery bag away from Sasha's creeping hands. "It's for everyone, remember?"
"But I suffered through the market," Sasha moaned dramatically. "Food everywhere—roasted, salted, fried… just hanging out there like edible sirens."
Krista gave her a look. "You almost got us banned."
"I don't remember that."
"You tried to barter a raw potato for an entire lamb shank."
"...Oh. Right."
Krista sighed as they reached her front gate. "Just wait until we're inside."
Inside the cozy warmth of Krista's house, Conny was in the kitchen like a man on a mission. Thin slices of beef were expertly laid across a tray, seasoning already soaking into the cuts. He moved with surprising ease, wearing an apron and a look of intense focus.
Jean leaned in, skeptical. "Wait… you know how to cook?"
"I'm literally cooking right now," Conny replied, placing the tray into the oven.
"I just thought you were showing off or something."
"Who would I be showing off to?"
Jean smirked. "Krista's sister. Y'know, the pretty silver-haired one?"
Conny paused, frowning. "You don't even know her age, man."
"Beauty transcends age," Jean said with a mock-philosophical tone.
"I'm not interested in girls right now."
"That sounds fake but okay."
Conny didn't bother continuing the argument. The beef was sizzling, and that was more important.
The front door swung open, and like a storm in human form, Sasha charged in.
"MEAAAT—!"
"No, no, NOPE!" Conny dove with military-grade precision, tackling Sasha mid-dash. They both hit the floor with a thud.
"I CAN SMELL IT! IT'S READY, I KNOW IT'S READY!" Sasha wailed, flailing dramatically.
"It's not done! The outside's still red!" Conny shouted back, gripping her by the shoulders as if defusing a bomb.
Krista walked past them like it was a daily occurrence, setting the groceries down on the counter with a soft smile. Jean joined her, wordlessly helping unpack.
"Does this… happen often?" Jean asked, glancing toward the brawl on the floor.
"You'd be surprised how normal it is," Krista said sweetly. Conny didn't stay here often, but Sasha did, and every time someone cooks, Sasha gets like that.
"I believe it." Jean chuckled before his tone softened. "So… what's your family situation like, anyway? You mentioned your mom once, but…"
Krista hesitated. "It's… complicated. But I'm living with my mother, Alma. And her friend, Carla."
"Carla?" Jean repeated, brow raised. "That name sounds familiar."
Before Krista could reply, Conny shrieked. "SHE'S GETTING CLOSER!"
Sasha had somehow slid on her stomach toward the oven door, army-crawling with every ounce of her being.
Krista sighed. "Jean, could you—?"
"I got this." Jean rolled up his sleeves.
As he stepped away, his eyes flicked across the counter—and landed on a newspaper near the doorstop. Folded. Worn. But there, clear as day, was a photo on the front page.
Eren Yeager.Bloodied. Shackled. Mid-trial.
The headline blurred. Jean didn't read it. He couldn't.
His hand hovered above the page. A pit opened in his stomach.
That idiot… what did you get yourself into now?
Behind him, Sasha howled. "THE MEAT CALLS TO ME!"
Jean blinked.
Right. Now wasn't the time for brooding. Not yet.
He grabbed a nearby dish towel. "Time to tie her up."
✦ End of Chapter ✦
Next Time on Side Stories: Armin & Kaelen's Questionably Legal Tea Brewing Operation
[Auther: Hi, fellow human beings. I tried a new style...I'm liking it but my schizophrenia doesn't feel like doing Armin & Kaelen's Breaking Bad spin-off...I might do a female part instead...]