N.B : If you'd like to get early access to the next 11 chapters of Universal hope (Chapter 11-21) Chapter 11 (When Jade meets steel blue), Chapter 12 (Eyes in the dark), Chapter 13 (Eyes in the day) and Chapter 14 (Fissures), Chapter 15 (The hollowing), Chapter 16 (Night of terror), Chapter 17 (Counter), Chapter 18 (Sunrise), Chapter 19 (Binding wounds), Chapter 20 (Demonic prowl) and Chapter 21 (The scent of prey-Part 1) why not consider supporting me at Patreon.com/Weeb Fanthom. Your donations will be very much appreciated.
Evening was about to set in, the sun had begun its slow descent behind Wall Rose, casting long, weary shadows across the cramped rows of refugee shacks. The air smelled of damp wood, boiled grain, and the ever present scent of unwashed bodies; too many people crammed into too little space.
Carla Yeager sat by a small, grime-streaked window of their assigned shelter within the refugee camp, her hands resting in her lap, fingers tracing idle patterns over the rough fabric of her skirt. "Any minute now", she told herself as she gazed out the window. "They'll come walking down that road any minute."
A wheelchair; a rickety, secondhand thing with a squeaky left wheel; was positioned just right so she could see the dirt path leading into the housing sector. Her legs, hidden beneath the blanket draped over her lap, were a constant, dull ache. The doctors had said she was lucky to keep them at all.
Lucky.
That word tasted bitter now. Lucky to be alive, yes. Lucky to have survived the fall of Wall Maria, the crush of debris, the agonizing minutes pinned beneath rubble with the sound of Titans drawing nearer. Lucky that Eren; her reckless, impossible boy; had found her in time, had refused to leave her behind and disobeyed her twice…and nearly got himself killed on that day.
But lucky to be like this? A burden? A woman who could no longer stand on her own two feet, who needed help with everything from fetching water to turning in bed at night? A woman who could no longer properly take care of her children as she is meant to?
Carla exhaled slowly, forcing the thought away.
No. Don't spiral. Not today.
Instead, Carla focused on the sounds outside. The murmur of returning workers, the occasional bark of an MP or Garrison ordering people to keep moving, the distant wail of a hungry child. She had memorized the rhythm of this place over the last six months. Knew when the first groups would return from the fields, when the ration lines would form, when the whispers of unrest would start up again.
And she knew, with the precision of a mother's instinct, exactly when her children should be back. They were late, not by much…maybe half an hour, but enough to make her fingers tighten around the arms of her chair.
"Eren probably got distracted again." Carla muttered to herself in the lonely room. That boy had always been a storm contained in skin, even before the strange device came in. Now, with that alien device strapped to his wrist and the weight of losing their home, he burned even brighter, even wilder. She had seen the way his eyes dimmed when he thought no one was looking, the way his hands clenched when someone mentioned Wall Maria.
He wasn't just working in those fields. He was hurting.
And Mikasa (bless that girl) was one of the only people who could reel him in without breaking him.
A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.
"Carla? You decent?" Hannes' voice called out, rough but warm.
"Come in." Carla said as she smoothed her skirt.
The door creaked open, and the off-duty Garrison soldier stepped inside, his beard was thicker now and his uniform slightly disheveled from the day's work. Behind him, Grandpa Arlet shuffled in, his weathered hands clutching a small bundle of root vegetables. Hannes carried a sack of grain over his shoulder, his other arm steadying the wooden door for the old man as they entered.
"Brought you some things," Hannes said, setting the sack down with a thud on the nearby table. "Not much food, but it's fresh…ish. Better than nothing."
Carla smiled. "Fresh-ish is a luxury these days. Thank you."
Grandpa Arlet placed the vegetables he held next to the food sack with care. "My grandson insisted I bring these. Pretty sure you'd make better use of them than I would."
Carla smiled, warmth blooming in her chest despite everything. "Thank you, both of you." Hannes rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the empty space near the hearth. "Kids still out?"
"Mhm."
Grandpa Arlet sighed, shaking his head. "That grandson of mine stayed behind to wait for them," The old man muttered. "Said he didn't want them walking back alone. Good lad, but he worries too much."
Hannes chuckled. "Eren's probably off causing trouble."
"That's my bet," Carla sighed, earning hearty laughs from the adults. They knew the kids too well. Just as quickly as it came, Hannes' amusement faded slightly as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "You heard the latest from the MPs?"
Carla's stomach tightened. "Which part?"
The garrison hesitated, then got himself off the wall crouching beside Carla's wheelchair. "Whispers about 'population control.'" Hannes' voice dropped, his eyes darting to the door as if afraid someone might be listening. "They're talking about another expedition outside the walls. Voluntary, they'll say. But we all know what that means."
Grandpa Arlet's hands stilled where they were arranging the vegetables. His voice was quiet, but firm. "Interior's been talking about thinning the refugee numbers, sending people out to 'reclaim land. They'll likely send the weak first. The sick. The ones they deem 'unnecessary.'"
A cold weight settled in Carla's chest. They both knew what that meant. A death sentence dressed up as hope. "...They wouldn't," she said, but the words lacked conviction.
Hannes' face was grim. "They would. And they will." His jaw tightened seeing the dread in her face. "It's not set in stone yet. But… it's coming."
Silence stretched between them, heavy with things none of them wanted to say aloud. Then, distant but unmistakable, the sound of bickering.
"—told you we'd be late."
"It's barely sundown, Mikasa, stop worrying—"
"Your mother is going to kill you."
"Mikasa has a point, Eren."
"Armin, it was important—HEY!"
Carla's shoulders relaxed, some unseen tension unwinding from her spine. "Thank god." Hannes smirked, standing back up from his crouched position. "Sounds like your hellions are back."
Grandpa Arlet huffed a laugh. "And my boy's with them, no doubt playing peacekeeper." The door burst open before she could respond.
The door swung open, and there they were. Standing by the door was Mikasa, her usual calm demeanor slightly frayed at the edges, gripping Eren by the collar of his shirt like a misbehaving kitten. On the other hand; Eren was scowling, his clothes untucked and covered in dust with his hair sticking up in every direction while his arms were full of crumpled papers. Armin brought up the rear, looking exasperated but unharmed.
The trio froze when they saw Carla, Hannes and grandpa Arlet watching them.
Whatever defiance Eren was putting up before their arrival crumpled instantly. "…Hi, Mom." He said, sheepishly grinning like he hadn't just been missing for half the afternoon.
Carla didn't speak. Just looked at him, really looked. At the dirt smeared across his cheek, the fresh scrape on his elbow, the way his fingers clenched around those papers like they were the only thing keeping him from drowning.
"You arrived longer than usual. Care to explain?" She said finally.
Eren averted his gaze, trying to come up with an excuse. "I know. I'm sorry. I-I was just—"
Mikasa sighed. "…He was researching," she murmured. "In the old supply shed. Again."
Carla's throat tightened. Of course he was. "I know," she whispered back. "Go wash up. Dinner's getting cold."
Eren blinked, as if surprised she wasn't yelling. Then nodded, scrambling toward the wash basin. Mikasa lingered, her gaze flickering to Carla's wheelchair, then away. Carla could only sigh as she watched the receding figure of her son.
_______________
Dinner table, later that same evening…
The scent of boiling root stew filled the small, crumbling refugee hut, laced with rosemary and a little salt; the closest thing to a feast they'd had in weeks. Carla had insisted tonight feel like 'home', even if it was barely a roof with mismatched planks and thin walls that did little to keep out the cold.
Eren emerged from the washbasin with a fresh shirt and mostly combed hair, but the edges of the bandage around his wrist peeked out from under his sleeve, still slightly damp. He took his seat beside Mikasa, across from Hannes and Grandpa Arlet, and tried not to squirm when Carla wheeled herself in and served each of them a ladle of stew. The papers Eren had brought home were now carefully smoothed and tucked inside his pocket, but not before Carla had caught glimpses of hastily drawn Titan anatomy sketches and what looked like schematics labelled "weak points".
"You didn't have to cook for us," Hannes said as he dug in, then froze as the taste hit him. "Holy hell… is that real flavor?!"
Carla smiled gently. "You've done more for us than I can repay. Letting you eat something that doesn't taste like boiled wood is the least I can offer."
"You know what would make this better?" Hannes grinned, producing a small clay bottle from his coat. "Garrison-issue apple brandy. Stole it from Commander Klien's private stash last time I was at HQ."
Grandpa Arlet groaned. "That swill? Tastes like turpentine mixed with regret."
"Exactly why we should drink it now," Hannes countered, pouring a finger's width into Carla's cup first. "When life gives you rubble..."
"...You make questionable alcohol choices," Carla finished dryly, but accepted the drink. The warmth spread through her chest as she watched Eren pick at his food. He hadn't touched his bread, always a tell. Her boy only lost his appetite when something was gnawing at him worse than hunger.
"Eren," Carla said softly, once the bowl was halfway empty, "what were you really doing today?"
Said person froze. The spoon hovered in midair. "I… was researching," he said, cautiously.
"Researching what?" Carla pressed slightly. Eren glanced at Mikasa for help, but she only stared into her bowl. Armin cleared his throat.
"He was trying to understand something about the device on his wrist. He says… he's getting new options. New forms."
Carla placed her spoon down with slow, careful calm. "Eren," she said quietly, "I want you to listen to me. Really listen."
He looked up, blinking. Her tone wasn't angry. It wasn't disappointed.
It was afraid.
"I know you think this device is your key to protecting us. I know what happened to us; to me; made you feel helpless. And I know you think you're the only one who can fix things now. But I'm scared, sweetheart. I'm scared you'll push too far. You're ten. You're still a child."
"I'm not—!" Eren started, trying to defend himself, but his mother's look silenced him.
"You're ten, Eren," she repeated, voice cracking, "and you're already carrying the weight of the world. You've changed. You barely sleep anymore. You disappear without telling me. You come back with notes covered in things no child should understand. And now…"
She nodded to the crumpled papers he'd stuffed into his pockets earlier.
"Titans. New ability surges. Eren…this isn't a game. You're getting pulled deeper into something none of us understand." Tears shimmered in her eyes, but didn't fall. "I don't want to lose you to your grief, or to your obsession…Or to this thing on your wrist."
Eren was quiet for a long time. Then, softly: "…I didn't mean to worry you."
"You always mean well," Carla said, reaching across the table to brush his knuckles. "But I need you here. Alive. With us."
The warmth of her hand seemed to melt something in him. He nodded, looking down at the bowl. "Okay. I'll be careful." Eren said quietly.
Carla smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "That's all I ask."
Hannes cleared his throat. "Well! This got heavy. How about we finish up our food before it gets cold, huh?"
Eren blinked, then nodded, the tension breaking like a snapped thread. "Yeah…"
Afterwords, the remaining conversation turned to safer topics. Hannes' exaggerated garrison stories, Grandpa Arlet's tales of his time before the walls fell. But when Mikasa discreetly passed Carla a small wildflower to place at the center of their makeshift table, Eren's head snapped up.
His eyes flickered between the flower and his mother's hands, his own fingers twitching toward the bandage hiding the device. Carla recognized that look-the same one Grisha used to get when diagnosing a difficult case. Her son was calculating, measuring the distance between what was and what he thought should be.
Grandpa Arlet kindly asked for some seconds and Mikasa moved to the hearth without a word, gathering the remaining stew that had been left simmering.
Carla watched them. Her son, already so much older than his years, and the girl who had become as much her child as the one she'd birthed. Her chest ached.
They were so young. Too young for this world.
But they were here. They were alive.
And for now, that had to be enough.
______________
The refugee sector slept in uneasy silence, broken only by the occasional cough or whimper from a nightmare. Within the Yeager residence, the fire in the hearth had long died to embers, the air grown quiet with the kind of stillness that only came when even the desperate had gone to sleep.
Eren lay awake on the thin straw mattress beside Mikasa and Armin; who had opted to stay behind while his grandpa and Hannes have long left since. Mikasa's breathing was slow and even, one hand resting on the scarf around her neck. Armin murmured faintly in his sleep, twitching every so often, probably dreaming of something academic and terrible.
But Eren couldn't sleep. Not with the way his mother's voice echoed in his head.
"You're ten, Eren… and you're already carrying the weight of the world."
The brunette laid perfectly still on the mattress, counting Mikasa's steady breaths beside him. When he reached one hundred, he dared to move. Eren sat up slowly, wincing as the old wood beneath him creaked. His eyes darted toward Carla's corner of the room. Her silhouette lay still beneath the threadbare blanket; arms curled beneath her head. The wheelchair rested beside her like a silent guardian.
"I'll be careful," he'd promised.
But what good were promises if they kept him weak?
Silently, Eren reached into his shirt and pulled out the old iron key that always sat against his chest for the past 6 months—the one that had inexplicably appeared after his father vanished. It hung on a weathered cord, slightly too long for his neck. The key to the basement. To answers. To a house that was likely rubble now beneath Titan footprints and collapsed stone.
Eren's fingers brushed against the cold metal of the basement key.
How did this get here?
Why did Dad give this to me before he vanished? What was he hiding down there?
Was it connected to this device? To these creatures within it?
Was it all on purpose?
These questions haunted him more than Titans ever could. He remembered voices that wasn't his, remembered waking with all his injuries completely healed, remembered— A flash of headache pulsed around his head as he tried to hard to remember something so incoherent.
"When the time comes, you'll know what to do."
A voice that might have been his father's. A memory that might not be real. Eren clenched the key until the edges bit into his palm. He clutched it tightly.
The Omnitrix beeped faintly on his wrist, its face dimly glowing like it could hear his thoughts. Eren frowned at it. Every time he thought he understood it, it changed. Shifted. Mutated. Like it was alive.
Another form was unlocked three days ago… it happened right after I was tinkering with the device. Coincidence? Or something else?
'…I need to see what it does.' Eren thought to himself. His thumb hovered over the device. He looked back at Mikasa and Armin.
They'll understand later.
Quietly, carefully, Eren slipped on his boots, threw on his worn coat, and eased open the door. The cold slapped him in the face instantly, but he welcomed it. It reminded him he was still human. Then he slipped outside.
Eren ran through the narrow alleyways of the refugee housings with a practiced silence. The wind howled through the makeshift fences that marked the boundary of the refugee zone as the boy jogged into the shadowed ravine beyond the supply sheds until he found the edge of an abandoned ration depot, far enough from the patrol routes. Once clear, he knelt behind a boulder and tapped the bandage off his wrist, revealing the Omnitrix, its green glow dim beneath the moonlight of the pitch black sky filled with stars burning like frozen fire.
Eren's breath came in clouds as he looked down at the Omnitrix, hesitation etched in his face.
Carla's words still echoed in his ears.
"I need you here. Alive."
But… he had to know. This new alien had appeared three days ago. He'd waited long enough. The Omnitrix hummed against his wrist as he tapped it experimentally.
"Just five minutes," he muttered, his decision made.
"Come on, new guy…" Eren whispered as he turned the dial, "…Show me what you've got." The device shifted with a quiet whir-click, its dial cycled past familiar silhouettes before landing on one he'd only glimpsed in holograms. The silhouette of a strange creature rotating into view. A somewhat more humanoid creature covered in…warts? So many of them in fact.
With a deep breath, Eren slammed the omnitrix dial down. A blinding green flash lit up the empty field, consuming Eren within it as well. In a second, his body changed. Muscles elongated, skin melted as it hardened to a more blemish yellow color, bones reformed as bulges emerged from all over Eren's transforming body. Changing him to something inhumane in shape.
When the green light faded, but where a ten-year-old Eren once stood now became something decidedly...less human. Something alien…something monstrous.
A hunched figure with two muscled arms, thick legs, and dozens of eyeballs across his chest, shoulders, arms, and back. The places where his main eyes were supposed to be were replaced with batlike ears, rendering the place blind (Very ironic). A single big central eye on his chest seemed to pulse with energy as it peeled itself open. The dozen of eyes blinked open across his body. They rotated, shifted, extended.
"…Woah," Eren said in an echoing gargled voice, blinking with all his many eyes. "I'm like… a walking surveillance system. This is so cool!"
His new form also had somewhat hardened skin like organic armor. Heightened senses that screamed to life, each input from each eye a new layer of data—heat signatures from inside the shacks, the exact trajectory of every sound wave, the faint vibrations of insect wings on bark.
The world was no longer quiet.
It was loud. Too loud.
Eren staggered slightly, overwhelmed by the sheer information flooding in. "Ugh. Feels like having marbles rolling around in my skull," He muttered. He could see the walls far ahead. He could see the weak points on them. The cracks in the stone. The fault lines in the air itself.
He dropped to one knee, panting through alienated lungs, his mind struggling to focus.
Too much… too much…
And yet… he adapted.
Slowly, he realized he could choose which eyes to prioritize. The world exploded into hyper-clarity: heat signatures behind walls, a mouse scurrying fifty meters away, even the far distant campfires of MP outposts. "Okay...this could work."
Each eye could filter out frequencies and what they could see. He looked at his palm; at an eye blinking back at him; and laughed breathlessly.
"This is insane… but it's powerful. I could find Titans before they ever get close. I could fight even blind."
But even as he marveled at the ability, a voice echoed in his mind. Not from the device on his wrist, not from his power.
His mother's voice. (Fucking conscience hitting hard)
"I don't want to lose you to your grief… or to this thing."
Eren turned his head back toward the distant glow of the refugee camp.
Wow…He'd really walked half a mile out.
Eren turned back to his hand. "I have to be strong, Mom," he whispered, his voice garbled oddly in the Opticoid's resonance-based esophagus. "If I'm not… you'll die. Mikasa will die. Armin, his grandpa, Hannes…Everyone will. I can't afford to fail again."
And maybe…
'Maybe then I'll be ready to go to the basement. Maybe I'll finally find out why Dad left. Why this thing's even on me.' The boy now turned Opticoid thought to himself.
Shaking any receding thoughts from his mind, Eren's optical visions caught sight of the boulder he had rested on for a while. Hmm, maybe…
He aimed a hand toward a boulder, and a beam of focused energy fired from the eyes in his palm, blasting a chunk clean off.
"Cool…" Eren said in awe and excitement as all twenty eyes adjusted independently. "This...this is perfect." Before he could test again, the sound of footfalls and wood clanking caught his attention. All his eyes narrowed, swiveling toward the eastern cliff edge.
"The hell…" Curiosity and wariness getting the better of him, Eren moved like a shadow towards the source of the sound, every eyeball giving him 360-degree vision. The more he moved forward, the more the sounds got louder. He must be getting close. He hid behind a tree and swiveled one of his eyes to get focus of the source, which came from an open field. A lone figure moved through the moonlight; quick, precise, a blur of movement and grace. Eren crouched lower, this time his many eyes focusing. That's when he saw…her.
A girl. Blonde. About his age, if not maybe older. She wore a gray cloak practicing impossible kicks against a post, her movements precise as clockwork. Her stance was low. Movements cold. Her face expressionless. Her fists moved like they were cutting the air itself.
Eren didn't recognize her. Not from any of the work zones.
"…What the heck?" He muttered.
The blonde girl didn't notice the alien observer watching her. Eren's central eye blinked reflexively at the way her muscles tensed before each strike; calculating the exact force needed to shatter human bone.
He should leave while he can. Stepping back as quietly as he could, he didn't realize until a twig snapped under his three toed foot (Seriously for a guy with 360 vision, how the fuck did he not see that coming???)
Suddenly, the girl froze.
Eren stiffened.
Shit…
Her head turned.
Even at this distance, her blue eyes locked onto his central one like a hawk.
Shit! Shit!! Shit!!!
Without hesitation, she sprinted straight toward his hiding spot.
"FUCK—!" On instinct, Eren turned on his heels and ran as fast as he could, the blonde girl giving chase.
Goddammit! He should have stayed back at camp, hell he should be asleep! It's past midnight! At this rate he'll be caught! What with that girl?! And why is she so fucking fast?!!
Eren's many eyed form crashed through the underbrush, his optic nerves firing in panic as branches whipped against his hardened skin. Every eye swiveled independently; some tracking the blonde predator behind him, others scanning for escape routes, two focused solely on the Omnitrix's blinking faceplate. Over the past 6 months, he had studied the timer of the strange device Armin had dubbed "Cool-down".
He only has 4 minutes remaining till he reverts back to human.
"Just leave me alone, dammit!" Eren yelled over his shoulder, his voice echoing unnaturally through Eyeguy's vocal chambers. A throwing knife embedded itself in the tree trunk where his head had been half a second earlier.
The blonde girl moved like liquid death. Her footfalls made no sound. Her breathing remained steady. The cold calculation in her blue eyes never wavered as she gained ground.
Eren's central chest eye pulsed with energy. Think! His mother's warnings warred with his survival instincts. He could fight back, blast her with his optic beams…but that might kill her! And despite everything, he wasn't a murderer.
Not yet.
Not unless he had to be.
A rocky outcropping loomed ahead. Eren pivoted sharply, skidding behind a boulder just as another knife whistled past. He pressed his back against the stone, all eyes wide with adrenaline.
Why did I leave home?!
The thought hit him like a physical blow. Stupid! So stupid!
The basement key bounced against his chest with each ragged breath. His father's voice echoed in his memory: "When the time comes, you'll know what to do."
Well, the time had come, and all Eren knew was that he was about to die to some blonde maniac in the middle of nowhere!
Before he knew it, the blonde landed in front of the boulder he was hiding on, her eyes narrowing at him. In a flash, steel pressed against his primary eyeball.
"Identify yourself," she hissed, then froze at the sight of the creature before her. For the first time in Eren's short termed memory since observing her, the ice-cold girl looked genuinely shocked. "...What are you?"
Eren hesitated. His voice warbled. "Uhh…"
"I asked you a question. What. The. Hell. Are. You?" She asked warily, voice icy and sharp but laced with undeniable amount of fear. Her hands never left her hip holsters. Moonlight caught the steel of fresh blades between her fingers.
Eren panicked. One eyeball swiveled to check for witnesses while another noted Annie's perfect combat stance—too perfect for a refugee. This was bad. This was very—
"Doesn't matter then. I'll put you down myself you damned abomination!" The blonde said as her body shifted into a ready stance, already pulling out more daggers from her holster.
One of Eren's eye-palm hands raised instinctively. "Wait—wait—chill! I didn't mean to spy! I was just training too!" He said in panic as his chest eye closed from the close proximity the girl was probing the dagger to his eye.
"I don't believe you, demon." She said through gritted teeth, this thing can talk too?!
Eren cursed inwardly, already hating what he was about to do. "Okay, okay—look—" He tapped the Omnitrix on his waistband.
A green flash emerged and a very human Eren stumbled into the clearing, hands raised.
For three heartbeats, they stared at each other.
"…You?" Annie said, her voice unreadable.
Eren blinked. "You know me?"
"No. But I do now." She frowned, stepping closer. Faster than his brain could register, Eren found his whole world pummeling downwards as his body hit the floor with a painful thud, his two hands pinned to his back by the girl now straddling him down, her face etched with deep distrust and a sharp cold glare.
…Shit.
Chapter 11-21: Chapter 11 (When Jade meets steel blue), Chapter 12 (Eyes in the dark), Chapter 13 (Eyes in the day), Chapter 14 (Fissures), Chapter 15 (The hollowing), Chapter 16 (Night of terror), Chapter 17 (Counter), Chapter 18 (Sunrise), Chapter 19 (Binding wounds), Chapter 20 (Demonic prowl) and Chapter 21 (The scent of prey- Part 1) are already available on Patreon.com/Weeb Fanthom.