Attack on Titan: Wolfborn

Chapter XVI: Aftermath

Commander Dot Pyxis trudged along a path of utter devastation carved through the heart of Trost. Where once stood proud buildings, now lay a wasteland of splintered wood, crushed stone, broken tiles and twisted metal. The trail of destruction, a grim testament to the Titans' rampage, stretched before him like a gaping wound in the city's flesh.

Overhead, dark clouds loomed, heavy with the promise of rain. The air felt thick and oppressive, mirroring the somber mood that hung over Trost, the cost of victory had been higher than anyone could have anticipated.

Shouts of soldiers and the creaking of heavily laden carts punctuated the eerie quiet. Makeshift tents dotted the landscape, flimsy barriers against the encroaching despair. Pyxis paused, watching a young soldier distributing meager rations to a line of hollow-eyed civilians. A child's wail pierced the air, quickly hushed by a mother's trembling embrace.

Nearby, a grizzled veteran clutched his family close, his uniform caked with dirt and darker stains. His eyes, haunted and red-rimmed, met Pyxis' for a brief moment before darting away.

A group of cadets huddled together, their youthful faces etched with a weariness far beyond their years. One laughed, a brittle sound that seemed to shatter in the heavy air. His comrades flinched, their forced smiles more grimace than joy.

In the distance, the breach in Wall Rose loomed. Yet around it swarmed Scouts and Garrison engineers, their efforts to seal the gap a defiant act of survival. The scrape of stone on stone echoed through the ruined city, a constant, grinding reminder of humanity's resilience.

Anka, Pyxis' aide, approached with a crisp salute. "Sir, the city is clear of Titans. Only a few stragglers remained; we made short work of them."

Pyxis nodded, his eyes never leaving the desolate scene before him. "And our soldiers, has everyone been accounted for?"

The aide's composure faltered. "Numbers are still not exact, but... We lost 326 soldiers, 32 are still missing. And there's over a thousand wounded. Our medical staff is overwhelmed, many civilians volunteered but its not enough." She hesitated, swallowing hard. "There's also the matter of... clearing any possible contamination. But it should be safe to start letting some people back into the city once the breach is secured. We could start right away arranging the clean-up teams."

Pyxis surveyed the exhausted faces of the soldiers around him, noting the slumped shoulders and trembling hands. "For now, let them rest. We'll start clearing in the morning."

As twilight deepened into night, Pyxis made his way to what remained of the Garrison headquarters. The building listed dangerously to one side, its windows dark and empty. Inside, he found Commander Erwin Smith waiting, his tall frame silhouetted against a lone candle flickering on the debris-strewn desk.

"Commander Erwin," Pyxis greeted, reaching for a dusty bottle. "Something to drink?"

Erwin shook his head. "I'm fine, thank you."

Pyxis poured himself a generous measure, the amber liquid catching the candlelight. "I suspect I know why you're here, but first, tell me about your expedition. Your faces upon return spoke volumes."

Erwin's eyes tightened almost imperceptibly. "It was... enlightening, but there are more pressing matters."

"Come now, indulge an old man, will you?"

"I'm afraid it's grim news, as usual."

Pyxis took a long swig. "Isn't it always?"

Erwin's voice lowered, tension thrumming beneath his measured words. "We encountered Abnormals but these were different. At first, they showed no interest in us, but..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "They set a trap. It indicates a level of intelligence we've never observed. They took one of my soldiers but didn't devour him. Just... took him and left."

Pyxis' brow furrowed. "You didn't give chase?"

"Couldn't risk it. We were outnumbered," Erwin's gaze drifted to the shattered window. "The ride back was uneventful until we found Titans concentrated near Trost."

"Ah yes, our recent visitors," Pyxis sighed. "It all went down how it was reported in Shiganshina, the Colossal breaking through the outer gate then vanishing, followed by a downpour of titans." "But then when the Armored appeared, by some miracle, they all retreated it didn't even reach the inner wall."

He chuckled, a harsh sound. "You know, some of my soldiers have quite the imagination. There's a story spreading about a cadet who single-handedly fought off the Armored Titan, causing the retreat."

Erwin's eyebrow raised slightly. "Oh?"

"Ridiculous, of course," Pyxis waved his hand dismissively. "But it got me thinking. They must have been after something specific. Why breach the wall only to retreat?"

Erwin nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm… Regardless, such stories can be powerful motivators, even if not entirely true. A symbol for people to rally behind."

"A convenient tale for desperate times?" Pyxis countered.

"Perhaps," Erwin conceded. "But that's not why I'm here."

Pyxis' eyes narrowed. "Ah, the crux of the matter, is it?"

Erwin leaned forward, his voice dropping. "The Titan. Eren Jaeger."

"Yes, a poorly kept secret," Pyxis mused. "He's unconscious, under guard until things are cleared up."

"I need to see him," Erwin stated, his tone leaving no room for debate. "My team should examine him."

Before Pyxis could respond, the door burst open. Commander Nile Dok of the Military Police strode in, his face a mask of barely contained fury. Behind him, the imposing figure of Premier Zachary entered more sedately.

"Gentlemen," Pyxis said, his casual tone belied by his rigid posture. "To what do we owe this unexpected visit?"

Nile's suspicious gaze darted between Erwin and Pyxis. "We rushed here upon news of the attack, we had prepared for the worst scenario. I see victory came at a steep price..."

Zachary, his voice matter-of-fact yet imposing, stated, "Order must be re-established in the district. I'm here to ensure the necessary arrangements are carried out."

"The Scouts stand ready to assist, sir," Erwin replied, a note of wariness in his voice. "But surely that's not the sole reason for your presence."

Zachary's penetrating gaze swept the room. "You're perceptive as ever, Commander. We've heard disturbing whispers of a Titan among our ranks."

His eyes locked onto Pyxis and Erwin. "The crown will demand explanations. I expect them now."

A low rumble of thunder punctuated the silence. Rain began to patter against the broken windows, quickly swelling to a deluge. The long-threatened storm had finally broken.

Pyxis glanced at the tempest outside, his weathered features briefly illuminated by lightning. The downpour formed a silver veil, obscuring the ravaged city beyond.

...

The forest swallowed all sound save for her ragged breathing and the crunch of dead leaves beneath her boots. Rain lashed down through the canopy, soaking her to the skin. Sweat-soaked hair clung to her face as she ran, weaving between ancient trunks that stretched impossibly high into the storm-wracked sky.

Don't look back.

The thought pulsed in her mind, drowning out everything else. Her lungs burned, legs trembling with exhaustion, but she couldn't stop. It was coming.

A branch snagged her jacket. Her heart leapt into her throat as she tore free, leaving behind a scrap of fabric. She risked a glance over her shoulder.

Nothing. Just shadows and the constant pattering of rain.

The relief was short-lived. A twig snapped somewhere to her left.

She veered right desperately, pushing deeper into the forest. The trees pressed closer, their gnarled branches reaching out like grasping fingers. Roots erupted from the earth, threatening to trip her with every step.

A sound drifted through the air. A low, keening wail that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Human, but not quite. As if something was wearing a person's voice like an ill-fitting suit.

A low moan drifted through the trees, barely human. "Anjaaaa..."

She stumbled, caught herself against a tree trunk. Her hand came away sticky. In the fading light, the bark glistened wetly. Anja brought her fingers to her nose and recoiled at the coppery scent.

Blood.

A rustle in the undergrowth sent her running again. The forest floor sloped downward, steepening until Anja was half-running, half-sliding down a ravine. She lost her footing, tumbling head over heels until she slammed into level ground.

Dazed, Anja pushed herself up. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She spat, willing her vision to focus in the growing darkness.

Her eyes adjusted, and Anja wished they hadn't.

Near her feet, a body lay crumpled, limbs bent at unnatural angles. Its face, once familiar, was now a mask of terror, frozen in death.

Numbly, Anja stumbled forward.

Her gaze fell on another corpse, this one propped against a tree. Its chest was a gaping maw of shattered ribs and torn flesh.

In the center of the clearing, a figure lay spread-eagled, limbs splayed like a broken doll. Long dark hair, matted with blood, splayed out around a face Anja knew all too well.

Horrified, she tore her eyes away, only to land on another gruesome sight. A tall, muscular body, nearly torn in half, lay draped over a fallen log.

Anguish welled up inside her as she recognized each mangled form. Friends. Comrades. All dead.

Looming shadows seemed to close in, suffocating her. Anja's legs gave out, and she fell to her knees.

As she hit the ground, her hands slipped in something warm and viscous. A soft squelch made her look down.

Intestines. Glistening in the dim light, spilled across the forest floor.

The nausea was overwhelming. Anja retched, emptying her stomach onto the blood-soaked ground.

Trembling, she raised her head, and her heart stopped.

There, slumped against a gnarled tree trunk, was a figure that made her blood run cold. Blonde hair, matted with gore, framed a face frozen in a silent scream. Icy blue eyes, once so alive, now stared sightlessly into the void. A ragged crimson gash tore across the throat.

"No," Anja whispered, her voice breaking. "No, no, no."

"Why did you do it, Anja?"

The accusation came from everywhere and nowhere. Anja whirled, searching for its source.

"We trusted you."

Another voice, equally familiar, seemed to emanate from the very trees.

"Monster."

"Murderer."

The chorus of the dead rose around her, a cacophony of blame and horror. Anja clapped her hands over her ears, but the voices burrowed into her skull.

"Join us."

"Stay."

"Forever."

A tearing sensation erupted in her chest. Anja looked down, horror mounting.

Dark tendrils pushed through her flesh, writhing and pulsing. They spread like cracks in glass, her body fracturing from within.

Images flashed before her eyes: A knife in her hand. Numb terror on familiar faces. Her own laughter, cruel and cold.

Her scream died in her throat as the world dissolved around her. Anja found herself face-to-face with the pale Titan, its visage now featureless inches from her own, its skin looked like it was moving on its own, calling her. Its maw gaped open, revealing an endless void that threatened to consume her whole.

Distorted sounds crackled around her, achingly familiar voices twisted by static:

"A... ǝɹɐ ...ja ... ʍɥǝɹǝ ...

ʇ,uɐɔ ... plOɔ os ... ǝǝs ... dlǝH

... ʞɔɐq ǝɯoƆ ... ǝɯ ... ǝɯoɥ ..."

The pale Titan's maw began to expand, stretching impossibly wide. The void within grew, swallowing everything in its path.

...

The nightmare's tendrils retreated, leaving Anja gasping in the pre-dawn gloom. Outside, hoofbeats and shouted orders pierced the air.

Real. Solid. A lifeline to cling to.

"C'mon," Sasha's voice cut through the fog, followed by a bundle of fabric hitting Anja's face. "Orders came in."

Moments later, Anja found herself hunched over a small basin outside the tent, scrubbing furiously at her hands. Dried blood caked her fingernails, stubbornly resisting her efforts. Each crimson fleck sent a jolt of guilt through her core. As she worked, she noticed the scars on her hands - wounds that had been raw and angry yesterday were already half closed. The sight made her stomach lurch.

She couldn't bring herself to look at her reflection in the water, afraid of what – or who – she might see staring back. With trembling hands, she reached for fresh bandages, wrapping them tightly around her arms and hands. The act felt like a futile attempt to conceal her shame, to cover the physical reminders of her bloodthirsty rampage.

As she finished, a sharp pain lanced through her back, causing her to wince. The wound Marco had cauterized still felt raw and angry, unlike her other injuries. She gingerly touched the bandage covering it, feeling the heat radiating from the unhealed flesh. Why wasn't it getting any better?

A yawn broke her frantic reverie. Ymir stretched nearby, Christa a silent shadow at her side. The taller girl's gaze flickered to Anja, lingering on her. Where there had once been easy camaraderie, now lurked something else. Wariness. Caution

"Rough night?" Ymir's tone was carefully neutral.

Anja managed a nod, not trusting her voice.

"Join the club," Ymir muttered, running a hand through her disheveled hair.

They fell into step, the silence broken only by the crunch of debris underfoot. Sasha's voice, when it came, was devoid of its usual warmth. "We're on cleanup duty. Identifying remains…"

A groan escaped Ymir. "Fantastic. My favorite way to start the day."

"It needs to be done," Christa admonished gently. "Those families deserve closure."

Anja's eyes scanned the sea of haggard faces around them. No sign of Eren, Mikasa, or Armin. Where was Annie? Worry gnawed at her insides, mingling with the ever-present guilt.

A ripple of whispers caught her attention. "Is that her? The one who fought the Armored Titan?" Anja's gaze dropped to the ground, shame burning in her chest. If they only knew...

"Sasha?" Christa's voice was hesitant. "Are you... are you doing okay?"

"I'm fine." The curt reply hung in the air.

Christa's brow furrowed, but before she could press further, they rounded a corner. Jean and Marco stood by a waiting cart, their expressions as grim as the devastation stretching out behind them.

The group clambered aboard in somber silence. As the wheels began to turn, carrying them deeper into Trost's ravaged heart, the true scale of destruction unfurled before them like a nightmare made real.

Christa's voice trembled, barely audible over the cart's creaking. "The destruction, it's... it's so much worse here."

Ymir's arm tightened around her. "Yeah, well, Titans aren't exactly known for their delicate touch."

Marco's eyes swept over the ruins, his usual optimism faltering. "They didn't just attack us. They... they trampled everything. It's like they wanted to erase us completely."

"My home was around this block," Jean's voice was hollow, his gaze fixed on a mountain of rubble. "Can't even tell which pile it might be now."

Marco squeezed Jean's shoulder. "We'll rebuild," he said, determination creeping into his tone. "It'll take years, but... we know we can beat them now. We have hope."

"Hope?" Jean's laugh was bitter. "Look around. Half the city's in ruins. Who's left to pick up the pieces?"

She breathed sharply at the thought, it drew their attention. Her eyes had been fixed on the devastation around them. Now, she shifted uncomfortably, wincing as the movement pulled at the injury on her back.

Christa's eyes fell on Anja's bandages. "Are you sure you're up for this, Anja? Those wounds look painful."

Anja nodded, not meeting her gaze. "I'm... I'm feeling better. I want to help."

Ymir's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

Anja looked away, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The events of yesterday felt both distant and painfully fresh - the carnage, the pain, the overwhelming bloodlust. She could still feel the phantom weight of her blades, hear the screams echoing in her ears. How could she possibly explain any of this to her comrades?

The cart halted abruptly. Their driver, face concealed behind a headscarf, addressed them with practiced efficiency.

"You know the drill. Pairs. Cover as much ground as possible. Mark and collect any remains for identification." He gestured to the folded blankets in the cart. "Bring them here."

He distributed their grim tools – pry bars, shovels, thick gloves. Their weight in Anja's hands made the task ahead feel terrifyingly tangible.

Paired with Sasha, Anja surveyed the devastation. Despite the flattened buildings, visibility stretched for blocks. Other groups of soldiers dotted the landscape, engaged in the same somber duty.

Sasha's voice, broke the silence. "Damn monsters weren't satisfied with eatin' us. Had to destroy everythin' too." Her knuckles whitened around the shovel handle. "Let's... let's just get this over with."

The desolation before them was absolute – a sea of pulverized stone, splintered timber, and things Anja's mind refused to process. Dust hung thick in the air, mingling with a sickly-putrid odor that made her stomach roil.

As they began their task, the quiet was punctuated by the scrape of metal on stone and occasional, muffled sobs. Anja's eyes stung, whether from unshed tears or the acrid smell lingering about, she couldn't tell. She stumbled, her foot catching on something.

Bending down, her breath caught in her throat. A blade, or what remained of one - just a shard of metal attached to a battered handle, its edges already dulled.

Her blade.

The world tilted. In an instant, Anja was no longer in the ruined streets of Trost, but back on that blood-slicked rooftop.

Nac's broken form lay before her, his hand raised in a futile attempt to ward her off. Blood poured from his severed leg, pooling around him. Anja's chest heaved like a feral animal, her vision tinted red. She lunged forward, grabbing him roughly.

The blade plunged down, again and again. Nac's screams pierced the air, quickly turning to wet gurgles. Blood and tears filled his eyes as Anja stabbed with savage, unrelenting fury. The blade, already dulled by her frenzied assault, tore more than cut.

"...Monster..."

Nac's dying whisper, his eyes wide with terror. Then, stillness. Those eyes, once fear, now stared blankly at nothing.

"Anja?" Sasha's voice cut through the memory, sounding distant and muffled. "You okay?"

Anja blinked, reality crashing back. She was on her knees, the ruined blade clutched to her chest like a lifeline. Where Nac's body had been in her vision, there was only rubble. A dark, blackish stain spread unevenly across the broken stone, the source of the putrid smell that had been haunting her.

"I..." Anja's voice shook, barely above a whisper. "I saw... I think Nac was here..."

Sasha paused, then began clearing away debris. "Are you sure?" she asked, tossing aside stones with growing urgency.

Anja stumbled to her feet, joining Sasha's search. But as they cleared the area, the terrible truth became clear. There was nothing there. No body. Just that ominous dark stain.

How could this be? She remembered it so vividly - the weight of Nac's body, the warmth of his blood. How could he just... vanish?

A hand on her shoulder snapped her from her spiraling thoughts. Anja turned, her heart leaping into her throat as she recognized the insignia on the uniforms, the green unicorn of the Military Police. Two soldiers stood before her, their expressions serious, rifles strapped across their shoulders.

"Cadet Anja Wolf?"

Anja's blood ran cold. "Yes?"

The world seemed to shrink, narrowing to those two imposing figures. Sasha tensed beside her, taking a protective half-step closer.

"What's this about?" Sasha demanded, but the MPs ignored her completely.

The male MP's hand moved to rest on his weapon, his voice left no room for argument.

"You need to come with us. Now."