They called it the end of Humanity.
When Eren Yeager unleashed the Rumbling, the world trembled beneath the march of countless Colossal Titans. Cities crumbled. Oceans boiled. Entire continents were flattened beneath a wall of extinction. For a moment, there was nothing but dust, death, and silence.
And then—time moved on.
A century passed.
No Titans remain. Their bones have turned to hills, their legacy buried beneath new forests and older myths. The names of those who fought—Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Levi—have faded into half-remembered tales, their truths twisted by time. The island of Paradis is no more. Marley, too. All that's left is a wounded world, slowly growing back from the ashes.
But scars remain.
The land remembers what people have forgotten. In some places, the air still hums with strange energy. Shadows stretch too far. Trees seem to watch. And deep beneath the roots of the world, something sleeps.
Waiting.
In this fractured peace, humanity clings to what little it has—small cities, flickering screens, synthetic skies. Children grow up never knowing the titans that once shook the earth. Their history rewritten. Their reality redefined.
The Age of Titans was over… and a new age begins.
The grass whispered beneath Kael's worn shoes as he stepped through the thinning mist. Each footfall felt like an echo—soft, hollow, forgotten. The forest had always welcomed him this way: with silence. A language he understood. A sound far more honest than anything he heard in the world.
Kael was seventeen, tall for his age but slim, with a quiet presence that made him easy to overlook—just the way he preferred it. His hood was always up, shadowing a calm, unreadable face. A pair of wireless headphones rested snugly over his ears, low music pulsing like a heartbeat no one else could hear. His brown eyes, steady and observant, held a weight that didn't match his age—like someone who'd been watching the world for too long without saying much. His coat was worn, frayed at the edges, but he wore it like armor, pockets heavy with things he didn't trust the world to see.
The trees towered overhead like sentinels, their leaves shivering in the wind—pale gold, fading green, dry at the edges like pages of an ancient book left too long in the sun. Everything looked tired. As if the world had aged faster than it should've.
Kael exhaled, breath misting out in the cool morning air. Behind him, past the veil of twisted branches and creeping vines, was the city.
His cage.
A sprawl of steel bones and blinking lights, glass towers like hollow fangs, streets choked with smoke and noise. People there wore smiles like masks—perfect teeth hiding rotten tongues. Students shouted over each other, never listened. Teachers praised the quiet only when it served them.
And Kael… Kael had always been the quiet one.
But it wasn't peace he found in silence. It was survival.
The city had changed. No—the world had changed. Not gradually, not naturally. It was warped. Twisted. Bent beneath human hands like metal scorched and reshaped by fire. Kael saw it in everything: the glass-eyed stares of people on trains, the lifeless routine of digital screens, the laughter that never reached anyone's eyes.
Whatever beauty God had placed in the world—it was gone.
"Burned out," he muttered, "or buried."
And yet, here he was. Still walking. Still searching.
The mist began to thin. A slope rose before him, the trees parting like curtains. As Kael crested the hill, his breath caught.
There it stood.
The tree.
A giant, gnarled sentinel. Older than anything he'd seen, maybe older than time. Its bark was black and coarse like scarred flesh. Thick roots burst from the earth, curling around the hilltop like serpents protecting a throne. Moss clung to the base like a second skin, and the crown of its branches stretched so high, they vanished into the clouds.
He stepped closer, drawn without thought. His fingers brushed the bark—rough, cold, but humming faintly beneath the surface, like a slow heartbeat.
"…The tree that doesn't die," he whispered.
In history class at school it had been mentioned by the teacher:
"Beneath the tree where time does not move, the forgotten waits. They say this place is sacred. That's why no tree has ever been cut down."
He didn't know what it meant. Not yet. But here—something felt different.
Kael slumped down at the roots and leaned back against the trunk. The breeze pressed softly against his skin, carrying the scent of old rain and withered leaves.
From here, the city looked small. Fake. The way models looked in museum displays—too clean, too still. It didn't look like it was full of hollow people and meaningless days.
"Man… what a beautiful scene," he breathed. "Almost makes you forget what the world's really like."
He closed his eyes.
Ring ring.
Kael flinched. Groaned.
"…Who's disturbing my peace now?" he muttered, digging into his coat pocket.
Mom.
Of course.
He sighed and swiped the call.
"Hey, Mom."
"Kael!? Where have you been!? You left early and didn't say anything—we've been calling, looking for you all morning! Where have you gone?"
Her voice—frantic, shaken. Too used to worry. Too used to disappointment.
Kael pressed his head against the tree, eyelids heavy.
"I'm fine, Mom. I just… needed air. Some quiet."
A pause.
"Just don't do something dangerous and come back home as fast as you can, okay?"
"…Yeah. I got you."
He ended the call and dropped the phone beside him. Silence returned like an old friend.
Then—his stomach growled.
He chuckled to himself, unzipping his bag and pulling out a wrapped sandwich.
"Just me and you now, old tree," he murmured, about to take a bite—
FWOOSH.
A bird. Out of nowhere. Snatched the sandwich and flew off into the trees.
"What the—HEY!" Kael scrambled to his feet. "That was mine!"
He darted after it, crashing through low brush and vines, deeper than he'd meant to go.
And then—he stopped.
A break in the hill. A shadow.
No… not a shadow.
A mouth.
A cave.
Almost completely hidden behind ivy and moss, as though the earth had tried to seal it shut. A wound nature wanted to forget.
Kael hesitated. Then stepped closer.
The air changed. The trees grew still. Even the wind held its breath.
And then—he slipped.
The ground beneath his foot crumbled, and Kael tumbled down.
"Ah—ow…!"
The landing was hard, the cave floor cold against his back. He groaned, slowly pushing himself up.
It was dark. Narrow. The air was damp, walls wet with time. He pulled out his phone, the flashlight barely cutting through the gloom.
Then he saw it.
In the middle of the chamber, bathed in faint crystalline light—was a boy.
Encased in something between ice and stone. His arms crossed, eyes shut, body still. Barefoot. Shirtless. Pale skin gleaming under the light. His long dark hair floated slightly, like he was suspended in water.
Kael's breath hitched.
He stepped forward.
"…No way."
The boy looked… untouched. Preserved. Like he hadn't aged a day. Like he was still waiting for something.
Kael reached out.
Then—crack.
The ice split.
Then again.
And then shattered.
The boy fell forward into Kael's arms, soaked, gasping like a child taking his first breath.
Kael stared, wide-eyed. The boy trembled, water dripping from his lashes.
Kael slowly took off his coat and wrapped it around him.
"You're… alive."
No response. Just slow, shallow breathing.
Kael looked up, as though the tree above might somehow see through the stone.
He didn't know who this boy was.
Didn't know why he was buried in the earth.
Kael pulled the boy closer, whispering to no one in particular,
"I wonder how you ended up in that ice thing… but first, let's get you out of here."
And the cave listened.
And the tree above waited.
Silent. Watching.
As if it had always known this moment would come.
END OF CHAPTER.