Gale looked at the weapon in silence, but it wasn't the weight of the metal that made his hands tense—it was the invisible weight of his decisions.
Did I really do the right thing…?
From the beginning, he told himself that intervening was necessary to prevent massive massacres in the future.
That his knowledge could save lives, that advancing progress would avoid useless sacrifices.
However, now that history was moving forward at a terrifying speed, that certainty was beginning to crack.
He had pushed pieces that were not meant to move yet. He had accelerated gears that the original history had kept contained for years. And although in his mind everything seemed logical, efficient, inevitable… reality was different.
Every weapon manufactured meant power for him and for his purpose.
And power always demanded blood.
Gale clenched his teeth and thought as he walked: "What if I was wrong? What if by trying to 'do it better' I'm only creating a different tragedy?"
He did not fear war. He knew it was inevitable. What truly terrified him was something far simpler and crueler: making an irreversible mistake.
Making a poorly calculated decision and causing the deaths of people who were not meant to die.
Good people.
People who trusted him without really knowing who he was or how much he was manipulating the course of their lives.
Erwin imprisoned. The Survey Corps in the crosshairs. The central government moving in the shadows.
Everything was happening far too fast.
If I fail… there will be no way to undo it.
Gale stepped out of the workshop for a few minutes; he needed air. The metallic noise of the factory was left behind, replaced by something unexpected: laughter.
A child ran across the yard, holding a small crudely carved wooden toy. It wasn't perfect. The wheels were uneven, the paint almost nonexistent. But the child smiled as if he were holding the most valuable treasure in the world.
Gale froze. For an instant, the noise of war disappeared from his thoughts.
Kael.
The image came without warning: Kael sitting on the floor, focused together with his younger siblings, rolling a similar toy. His eyes shone the same way.
The same carefree laughter. The same innocence that knew nothing of weapons, titans, or corrupt governments.
Gale's chest tightened.
This…
This is what I'm fighting for. Not for factories. Not for weapons. Not for revolutions.
But for a future where children like that—like Kael—could laugh without knowing what fear is.
Even so, the doubt did not fade.
Because to protect that smile… he might have to dirty his hands more than he ever wanted to admit.
Gale closed his eyes for a second.
I just… hope I'm not wrong. "That's my lunch."
At that moment, a commotion broke out outside; the workers were arguing for some unknown reason.
It was lunchtime, a moment when no one was supposed to be working, so Gale and Hange went over to take a look and saw the workers making a fuss around the blast furnace.
The iron smelting furnace was seven or eight meters long. Since it had been finished recently, there were wooden stairs around it, from which the iron ore was thrown in.
The workers were making such a scene because two small children were hanging there.
They were Eren and Armin. For some reason, they had climbed the wooden ladder and were about to fall into the still-burning furnace.
Several workers were climbing a wooden ladder, apparently trying to pull them up.
Eren was gripping the wire structure tightly with both hands; his palms were already bleeding. Armin was holding onto his legs, bearing the weight of two people by himself.
Someone spread a tarp beneath the blast furnace and ordered them to jump down. "Come on, we've got you."
"Why would they climb up there?"
"It looks like they snuck in during lunch break, probably out of curiosity."
"Petra, can you use the vertical maneuvering equipment to bring them down?"
"No… That wooden ladder is too fragile. The hook could break it. We can only rely on the workers!"
Gale stayed beneath the blast furnace, looking at Eren, and their eyes met.
Eren did something no one expected: his body swung, and the wooden ladder creaked as it shifted.
He thought he wouldn't have the strength to hold on until the workers came to pull him out, so he tried to swing toward the tarp.
"Clear the way! Clear the way! Don't crowd together!"
Hange, Gale, and Hannes quickly evacuated the crowd, leaving enough space.
Then Eren let go.
He and Armin fell amid screams. The good news was that they didn't land in the blast furnace, but the bad news was that they didn't land on the tarp either; they landed almost in the opposite direction.
The workers rushed that way, but it was already too late.
The wooden ladder was slightly higher than the blast furnace. If this continued, Armin and Eren would fall from a height of about ten meters onto the hard ground covered in mineral slag.
If they were lucky, they would only suffer fractures; if not, they would be paralyzed for life. If they took a blow to the head, they could even die on the spot.
At that critical moment, everyone saw a golden flash in broad daylight, and a large amount of steam erupted from Eren's body, causing his skeleton and flesh to form rapidly out of nothing.
Boom!
A 15-meter giant slammed into the ground. It fell on its side, reaching Armin, but terrified everyone around it, who hurriedly backed away from the 15-meter giant.
"Is that… a Titan?" Hange stared at it in disbelief. "Hey! What is that? That kid turned into a Titan! What the hell is going on?!"
"Captain Hange! Fall back!" Petra drew her blades from the vertical maneuvering equipment. "I'm the only one equipped with the maneuvering gear right now! I'll buy you some time!"
"Oh… oh!"
"Petra, I'll leave it to you. I'll go get my equipment right away."
"Don't move." Gale, equally shocked, wanted everyone to stop.
"This one is like the others!" Gale stared in astonishment at Eren in Titan form; this was the first time he was truly facing how monstrous it was to stand before this beast.
"Like the others?" Hange seemed to understand something and stopped.
"Yes. An intelligent Titan."