The world.
A certain country.
"Onyankopon, aren't you leaving?"
"Ah… I want to wait a bit longer."
"What are you waiting for?! A Marleyan bullet? Or… a Titan?!"
"I…"
"Hurry up! There's still time! Ever since the government took your parents, I've worried myself sick as your neighbor. This time I can't do anything more. The ship's at the pier; it leaves in an hour. If you don't go now, there won't be another chance!"
"Mm. I know. I'll pack my things and catch up. Don't worry."
"Then make it fast!"
The neighbor dove into the car and sped for the pier.
Watching him go, Onyankopon felt a stab of regret—but when he turned back and saw the workshop, filled wall-to-wall with his life's work, reluctance washed over him again.
Since childhood he'd dreamed of shocking the world with his inventions—winning some grand prize, making people look at him with new respect.
All of it had been shattered by Marley's wolfish invasion.
He had to leave.
He had to abandon the research he'd poured decades into.
He couldn't carry any of it out alone, and burning it all felt like a crime.
"Let the government forces win…" Onyankopon stared at the sky, already knowing they wouldn't.
They had the western world's most advanced weapons—but against Marley's Titans, and the combined arms of Titans with armored vehicles, they had no answer.
They'd tried alliances with other nations, and leaned on the limits of Marley's supply lines to force talks and slow the invasion.
But now, for reasons unknown, Marley had changed tactics. Their "trump cards"—Titans—once used sparingly, were now scattered casually across battlefields. Supply or no supply, Marley didn't care.
Strangely, these Titans moved like ghosts. They were mindless, pure Titans, yet they displayed a surprising collective will, carrying out specific battle tasks in coordination.
A man of science, Onyankopon couldn't explain it.
But he knew this "unknown" had turned Marley more arrogant and ravenous than ever.
All over the world, anti-Titan fortifications were thrown up at transport chokepoints, bristling with machine guns and the largest-caliber guns anyone could field.
None of it mattered.
Artillery could hurt pure Titans, but slow loading couldn't keep pace with their savage charges.
You might blunt one wave; seconds later, the next was already on you.
Guns couldn't fire fast enough. There was no time to re-aim.
And Marley didn't care about losses. Even as Titans were cut down in droves, they only sent more.
Click.
Time to face reality.
With a crisp spark, Onyankopon lit his lighter. He watched the flame for two seconds, frozen.
Was he really going to burn it all?
He looked again at the workshop, packed with results.
He hesitated so long the flame thinned to a thread.
He still couldn't do it.
He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, snapped the lighter shut, and tossed it into a corner.
Shrouded in smoke, lab coat white as paper, Onyankopon crouched and took a drag.
By chance his eyes fell on a wall crammed with equations.
Beside them lay the blueprint for his newest device.
He was building a core—or more precisely, a kind of "heart."
With this "heart," he could upgrade the form of any object and grant it functions it never had.
On the small side, it could give amputees new limbs—mechanical ones, but with absolute dexterity.
Scaled up, it could mount thrusters on vehicles. With auxiliary modules, they might become flying cars.
Then airships wouldn't rule the sky alone. "Flying cars"—or rather, "airplanes"—would be the new aerial craft. Their small size would let them do what airships couldn't: roll at altitude, rake a target line with machine-gun fire, and shredding a Titan's nape would no longer be a problem.
He pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. Maybe it was the urgency of the moment, but a fresh idea sparked. He stubbed out the cigarette and started scrawling on the wall again.
He had no idea how long he worked.
Suddenly, explosions boomed.
He didn't look up. He worked the numbers, refusing to stop until the result came out clean.
More time passed, uncounted.
Machine-gun chatter rolled in around him.
A strange chorus swelled; the ground began to shudder beneath his feet.
"Fall back!!"
"Retreat!"
"Ahhh! You bastards!!"
Hoarse screams filled the air.
The tremor swept by like a gale.
Onyankopon felt the Titans' presence—and for reasons he couldn't name, he still refused to go. He would work to the last second.
"Please, God! Let me finish this. Once I finish, do with me as You will!"
He prayed.
And it seemed the world indulged him.
He set down the pen on the final stroke—just as the workshop door blew inward.
Boom!!
Men in steel helmets with rifles rushed in. Seeing a Black man in a white coat, the leader pointed, disappointed, and ordered his men to take him.
"Send this doctor where he belongs."
"Yes, sir!"
They swarmed him and tied him up.
"I'm not a doctor." Onyankopon looked one last time at his life's work and faced the officer, stubborn. "I'm an inventor. Let me go. I can repair firearms and airships."
The commander froze. Anyone who could service airships was a precious technician; killing him would be a waste.
"Whatever the case, take him in." He looked at Onyankopon's face and added, "No need for ropes. Cut him loose."
They reluctantly untied the knots they'd just cinched.
Escorted outside, Onyankopon lifted his gaze.
Overhead, a fur-clad Titan took long, uncanny strides, literally walking above them.
Ahead of it, an uncountable horde of Titans charged in brutal waves, trampling every opposing force into the earth.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 20 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810.