Hello, Drinor here. I'm happy to publish a new Chapter of Attack on Titan: A Warrior of Devils
If you want to Read the Following TWO Chapters, Search 'patreon.com/Drinor' on Websearch
Chapter 36, and Chapter 37 are already available for Patrons.
Jaime
He found them in the small common area at the end of the women's quarters. A single lantern burned on the table between them, casting their faces in warm gold and shadow. Krista sat cross-legged on one of the wooden benches, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders, still wearing her uniform but with the jacket unbuttoned. Ymir sprawled in the chair across from her, boots propped on the table's edge, arms crossed over her chest.
They looked up when he entered. Krista's blue eyes widened immediately. Neither spoke for a moment, just stared at him.
Jaime knew what they saw. He'd caught his reflection in a window on the way here. Purple eyes ringed in red, skin pale enough to look sick, dark circles carved beneath his eyes like bruises. His uniform was wrinkled, his hair a mess. He looked like something that had crawled out of a grave.
"Jaime," Krista breathed, already rising to her feet. "What happened?"
Ymir's freckled face remained impassive, but she was paying attention to him. "You look like shit, Shorty."
"Can I sit?" He hated that he sounded so exhausted.
"Of course." Krista gestured quickly to the bench beside her. "Please, sit down. You look ready to collapse."
Jaime sank onto the bench, and the simple act of taking weight off his feet felt like a small mercy. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together to stop them from shaking. The lamplight flickered, and somewhere in the building, someone coughed.
Krista moved closer, her hand touching his shoulder. "Jaime, what's wrong? Did something happen during the expedition debrief?"
"More than that," Jaime said quietly. He raised his head, meeting her eyes first, then Ymir's. "I need to tell you something."
Ymir's boots hit the floor with a soft thud as she leaned forward. Her expression sharpened. "Sounds serious."
"It is." Jaime swallowed hard. The words felt like stones in his throat. "Annie is the Female Titan."
Krista's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes going huge. "What?" The word came out muffled behind her palm. "No. No, that can't be right. Annie was our friend. She trained with us for three years. She is your...How could she possibly—"
"Captain Levi and I captured her in the forest, and even before that I recognized her eyes from the...Female Titans's eyes. I was the one who pulled her out of her Titan form. It's Her."
Krista looked like she'd been struck. She lowered her hand slowly, her face cycling through shock, disbelief, and finally settling on something that looked like grief. "But why? Why would she do that? All those people she killed..."
"I don't know all the reasons," Jaime lied. He knew about the father, about the hostage situation, but that was classified information. Erwin's orders. "But she did it. That's the truth."
He watched Ymir as he said it. Watched for the shock, the horror, the same raw disbelief that painted Krista's features.
He didn't see it.
Ymir went still. Her face showed something. Concern, maybe. But not shock. Not the gut-punch recognition that someone you knew, someone you ate meals with and trained beside, had killed dozens of people.
The discrepancy made something cold settle in Jaime's stomach.
"Did she say why?" Ymir asked. "What could possibly make someone do that?"
"She had her reasons," Jaime said vaguely. He couldn't look at Ymir directly, not when his mind was already screaming at him. "I can't talk about the details. Commander's orders."
"Who else knows?"
Jaime's hands tightened against each other. "Command knows. A few others. It's not public information yet."
Krista shook her head slowly, her eyes glistening in the lamplight. "I can't believe it. Annie always seemed so... I mean with you she always seemed so...happy. I'm really sorry, Jaime. I-"
"She fooled all of us," Jaime interrupted her. He didn't want her to remind him of their good time together. All that...All that time mattered nothing to her.
"Not all of us," Krista whispered. She turned to Jaime. "You stopped her. You helped capture her. That's what matters."
Jaime wanted to laugh at that. Wanted to scream. He'd stopped her, sure. But he'd also loved her. Planned a future with her. Let her wrap herself around his heart until the thought of living without her felt impossible. And she'd used that. Used him.
Or had she?
"It wasn't an act. I love you."
Her voice echoed in his memory, and Jaime squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to force it away.
When he opened them again, Ymir and Krista were watching him with clear concern.
"Speaking of tomorrow," Krista said gently, clearly trying to shift to safer ground. "We have that expedition assignment, don't we? I heard we're being split into different squads."
Jaime nodded. "Yeah. Commander Erwin is dividing everyone up for two separate missions."
"You know which one you're on?" Ymir asked.
"Not yet." Another lie. He knew exactly which mission he was on. Knew he'd be watching Bertholdt Hoover like a hawk, waiting to see if the quiet giant was another traitor hiding in their ranks. But that information stayed locked behind his teeth.
Krista bit her lip, looking between them. "I hope we all end up together. It would be nice to have familiar faces around."
Ymir snorted softly. "Since when do you get what you hope for in this job?"
"I can still hope," Krista replied, a hint of stubborn optimism threading through her voice.
The conversation lapsed into silence. Uncomfortable silence, the kind that used to never exist between the three of them. Jaime searched for something to say, some joke or observation that would break the tension, but his mind came up empty. Everything felt wrong. It should not be like this...it should have been someone else who...no, it was not someone else. It's Annie. Not someone else. It was her.
Ymir shifted in her chair. "So, Shorty. You planning on sleeping anytime soon, or are you going for some kind of record?"
There was the opening. The usual back-and-forth they'd perfected over three years. Jaime tried to grab onto it.
"I'll sleep when I'm dead, Ugly Freckles."
But the words came out flat.
Ymir's eyebrow quirked. "Wow. That was pathetic. You really do look like death."
Krista shot Ymir a look. "That's not helpful."
"What? I'm just being honest." Ymir's tone was defensive, but her eyes stayed on Jaime. "He knows I don't do the whole gentle comfort thing."
"Maybe try it once," Krista suggested quietly.
Silence again. Jaime stared at the table, at the patterns in the wood grain, at anything but the two girls sitting with him. His mind kept wandering. Back to the cell. Back to Annie's tears. Back to the sound of her screaming his name as he walked away.
"Jaime, don't leave me! Please! I don't want to be alone!"
"Jaime?"
He blinked. Krista was looking at him with open concern, her hand still resting on his arm. When had she moved closer?
"Sorry," he muttered. "What did you say?"
"I asked if you wanted some water. You seem..." She trailed off, searching for the right word.
"Fucked up?" Ymir supplied helpfully.
"Ymir!"
"What? Look at him, Krista. He's barely here."
Krista's fingers tightened slightly on his arm. "Jaime, talk to us. You...can let it out...we are with you...Always. Us. You will never leave."
Promise you will never leave me...
Jaime thought about her, what she was doing...alone...was she thinking about him...Jaime wanted to slap himself. He was being pathetic...she Lied to me...It was all A FUCKING LIE. IT WAS NEVER REAL..NONE OF IT WAS REAL...STOP...STOP THINKING ABOUT HER YOU MORON...
"I can't," Jaime said. His voice cracked on the second word. "I can't talk about it."
"Can't or won't?" Ymir's question was blunt.
"Both."
Krista made a small, sad sound in the back of her throat. She shifted closer, until her shoulder pressed against his.
"You did the right thing," she said softly. "I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but you did. Annie killed those soldiers. She attacked the Survey Corps. You stopped her from killing more people. That's what heroes do."
Heroes. The word tasted like ash.
Jaime thought of the dream he'd described to Annie. The small house. The garden. The daughters and son they'd never have. He'd wanted to be a hero in that dream too. Just a different kind. The kind who came home every night to a warm bed and a wife who smiled when she saw him.
Now he was the kind of hero who locked the woman he loved in a cell and walked away while she screamed.
"At least you're alive," Ymir added. Her voice had lost its edge, gone quieter. "Which is more than those forty-nine soldiers can say."
And Marco, Jaime wanted to say.
Marco. Who'd died alone, half-eaten, while Annie watched. Or hadn't watched. Jaime still didn't know which version was true. Annie had lied about killing Marco personally, but she'd taken his gear. She'd been involved somehow. The details blurred together in his exhausted mind.
And Bertholdt had called him a devil.
And Ymir had been furious about it.
Jaime's thoughts spiraled back to that training session two years ago. The memory played out in sharp detail: Annie beneath him in a chokehold, struggling. Bertholdt's shout. The kick that sent Jaime flying. And Ymir's reaction. The pure rage in her voice when she'd screamed at Bertholdt.
He'd thought it was just Ymir being protective. She looked out for him in her own abrasive way, always had. But now...
Now he wondered if there was more to it. If she'd been angry because Bertholdt had slipped, had used a word he shouldn't have. A word that meant something specific to people who knew. People who were involved.
"Ymir loves Krista," Jaime told himself firmly. "She would die for Krista. She's not like Annie. She's on our side."
But Kenny's voice whispered back in his mind, he could almost see him smirking in the darkness, behind Ymir: "Annie loved you, brat. Look what she did."
Jaime's hands curled into fists on his knees.
He looked at Ymir again. She cared about them. He could see that. Could feel it in the way she'd tried to make her usual jokes, in how she'd dropped the sarcasm when it became clear he was barely holding together.
But caring didn't mean loyal. Annie had cared too.
"You're staring," Ymir said flatly.
Jaime realized he was. He blinked, looked away. "Sorry. I'm just tired."
"Then sleep," Krista urged. She squeezed his arm gently. "You need rest, Jaime. Real rest. When was the last time you slept?"
He couldn't remember. Before the expedition? That felt like years ago.
"I'll sleep later," he said.
"You'll sleep now," Krista countered, surprising him with her firmness. "You can barely keep your eyes open. And tomorrow's going to be hard. You need to be sharp."
Tomorrow. The mission with Bertholdt. Watching another potential traitor, another friend who might be an enemy. Jaime's stomach churned.
Ymir stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I'll get him a blanket. There's a spare bunk in the corner."
As she walked away, Jaime watched her go. Watched the way she moved, the set of her shoulders, the rhythm of her steps. Looking for anything. Any sign.
She cared about Krista. That much was obvious in every glance, every softened word when she spoke to the blonde girl. Ymir would burn the world down for Krista.
But so would a traitor, if they loved someone enough.
Jaime's head hurt. His chest hurt. Everything hurt.
Krista's hand moved from his arm to his back, rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades. "It's going to be okay," she whispered. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but it will be. We'll get through this. All of us. Together."
Her optimism felt like a knife. How could she be so sure? How could she still believe in happy endings when the world kept proving her wrong?
But that was Krista. Always hoping. Always believing in the good in people.
Jaime wondered if she'd keep believing when she learned the truth about whoever else was hiding among them. When she discovered that more of their friends were monsters in human skin.
Ymir returned with a thin blanket draped over her arm. "Here. It's not much, but it'll keep you from freezing."
"Thanks," Jaime mumbled.
The three of them stood there in the lamplight, silent and separate despite being so close. Jaime could feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on him. The secrets he was keeping. The suspicions he couldn't voice. The grief and rage and confusion all tangled together until he couldn't tell where one emotion ended and another began.
"Get some sleep, Shorty," Ymir said quietly. "You look ready to drop."
She wasn't wrong. Jaime's legs felt weak, his vision fuzzing at the edges. The exhaustion was catching up, dragging him down.
Krista guided him toward the spare bunk in the corner. "Come on. Just for a few hours."
Jaime let himself be led. Let Krista help him sit, then lie back on the thin mattress. Let Ymir drape the blanket over him. Let both of them hover with concern written across their faces.
He closed his eyes, and in the darkness behind his eyelids, he saw Annie. Saw her crying. Saw her straining against the ropes. Saw her mouth forming his name.
And somewhere beneath that image, another memory stirred. A child's voice, desperate and small: "Please don't make me forget. Please. I'll be good. I promise I'll be good. Just don't make me forget again."
Whose voice was that?
Jaime's thoughts blurred together as sleep began to pull him under. The last thing he heard was Krista's soft whisper to Ymir.
"He's going to be okay, right?"
And Ymir's response, barely audible: "I don't know."
But instead of leaving, he felt the mattress dip on either side of him. Krista settled on his left, Ymir on his right. The warmth of their presence cut through the cold that had settled into his bones.
"We're not going anywhere," Krista said quietly. Her hand found his, fingers curling around his palm. "Not until you sleep."
Ymir said nothing, but Jaime felt her shift closer. For once, there was no sarcasm in her posture, no sharp edge to deflect genuine feeling. She just sat there.
Is expected from a Devil...
Ymir cannot be... she wouldn't...would she?
Why don't you give it a try? You were always good at fooling people, weren't you?" Kenny whispered in his ear.
"I still remember the day I left the Underground City," Jaime heard himself say. "I'd never seen the sun properly before that. Not real sunlight. Just... cracks in the stone ceiling. Thin shafts of light that barely reached the streets, and what I had imagined in my drawings with a rock on the mud. The real sun didn't have wings as I thought...I used to think that it should...after all, it's up there in the sky, surely is has wings..."
Krista's thumb brushed across his knuckles. She said nothing, just listened.
"But that day..." Jaime's voice grew softer. "Kenny brought me up through the access tunnel near the east gate. And when we came out, the sun was rising. The whole sky was burning orange and pink and gold, and the light hit my face, and I..." He swallowed hard. "I'd never felt such liberty. Like the whole world had opened up and I could go anywhere. Be anything."
He felt Krista's hand tighten around his.
"I chuckled like an idiot," Jaime continued. A faint smile ghosted across his lips. "Kenny thought I'd lost my mind. But I just stood there, staring at the sky, feeling that warmth on my skin, I looked into the sun until Kenny slapped me, telling me that I would go blind if I kept staring. I dreamed of seeing more after that. Of feeling that day again. That freedom." His smile faded. "I hoped the world would give me that feeling again someday...but then Annie came and she became brighter than any sun..."
The silence stretched. Jaime opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling beams. The question formed before he could stop it. I need to know...
"Do you think there are people out there? Beyond the walls?"
Krista shifted beside him. "I'd like to think so. The world is so big. It seems impossible that humanity could end with just us."
"There have to be," Jaime said. His voice carried a desperate edge. "It's just... very hard to believe that the whole world died and only we survived." He turned his head slightly, looking between the two girls. "If there are people out there, how do you think they'd react if they saw us now? How would they treat us?"
It's expected treatment for a devil...
Krista's expression brightened with that unshakeable optimism. "Maybe they'd be happy. Maybe they'd welcome us. Maybe there are whole cities of people who survived, just like we did, and they're wondering if anyone else is out there too."
"Or maybe they wouldn't be happy at all," Ymir said quietly.
Jaime stopped breathing.
"What do you mean?" Krista asked.
Ymir's face was unreadable in the lamplight. "I'm just saying, don't be so sure they'd treat us well. If there are people beyond the walls, they might not see us as friends. They might see us as..." She paused. "They might treat us like devils."
Devils.
His eyes widened. His heart began to hammer against his chest, so hard and fast he thought it might burst through. The room tilted. Ymir's voice echoed in his head, mixing with Annie's whisper, with Bertholdt's shout from two years ago.
Devils. Devils. Devils.
Not an insult. A designation. A label for people like them.
Which meant—
"Jaime?" Krista's voice sounded distant, muffled. "Jaime, what's wrong?"
His vision blurred at the edges. He tried to speak, tried to tell her, but his tongue felt thick and useless. The exhaustion crashed over him like a wave, dragging him down into darkness even as his mind screamed.
Ymir knew. She knew because she was from outside. She knew because wherever Annie came from, wherever the enemy came from, they used the words Devils.
"Jaime!" Krista's hand squeezed his. "Stay with us. Please, just—"
But sleep took him.
Then there was only darkness.
The darkness shattered like glass.
Sunlight poured over him. The kind of warmth that soaked into skin and bone, driving away every shadow. Jaime gasped.
Green grass stretched in every direction, swaying in a gentle breeze. The sky above was impossibly blue, painted with white clouds; it felt like stepping into a painting. And then he realised...
He was running.
His legs were short, but he ran with pure joy. The grass tickled his bare feet. The sun painted everything gold. Laughter bubbled up from his chest, spilling out.
And beside him, someone else was laughing too.
A girl ran at his side, her golden hair streaming behind her like a banner. She wore a simple dress, pale blue with white trim. Her feet were bare like his. Her face was bright with happiness, cheeks flushed from running.
She looked like Krista. The same blonde hair, the same delicate features, the same blue eyes, but she was different somehow...he wasn't sure what it was...but her face looked clearer now that it ever did before...for a moment, it felt like this whole time he had seen her face through a muddy mirror, and only now, he was seeing her real face.
"Catch me!" she shouted, her voice ringing clear across the field.
Jaime put on a burst of speed. His lungs burned in the best way. "I'm going to get you!"
She shrieked with laughter and veered left, her dress swirling around her legs. He followed, stumbling over a rock hidden in the grass but catching himself. The world was safe here. Falls didn't mean broken bones or hunger or punishment. They just meant getting up and running again.
In the distance, a farm spread across rolling hills. A large barn painted red, fences marking out pastures where horses grazed. Cows moved slow and heavy near a pond that reflected the sky. Chickens scratched in the dirt near a massive farmhouse that sat on the highest hill, three stories of stone and timber with smoke curling from twin chimneys.
Everything felt peaceful. It felt like living in a dream.
This was home.
This place, this girl, this moment, this was where he belonged.
They ran until his legs couldn't carry him anymore. The girl slowed too, breathing hard, and they collapsed together in the grass. The green blades rose around them like a forest. Above, a hawk circled lazy against the blue.
Jaime's chest heaved. His heart hammered with exertion and joy. He turned his head and saw the girl beside him, her golden hair spread across the grass like spilled honey. She was smiling at the sky.
"That was fun," she said breathlessly.
"Yeah," he agreed. His own voice sounded strange to his ears.
The girl rolled onto her side, propping her head on one hand. She looked at him with those blue eyes.
She said something then. Her lips moved, forming words that should have been clear but came out muffled.
Warmth bloomed in Jaime's chest. It felt like he had just swallowed the sun.
The dream began to fade. The edges of the world grew soft, colors bleeding together like watercolors left in rain. The girl's face started to blur, her features losing definition.
"No," Jaime heard himself whisper. "No, wait."
He tried to hold onto the image. Tried to memorize every detail, the exact shade of her hair, the shape of her smile, the warmth of her hand in his. But it slipped away like water through his fingers, like smoke caught in a fist.
Who was she? What was her name? Why couldn't he remember?
The harder he grasped, the faster she faded. The farmhouse dissolved into mist. The grass beneath him turned to shadow. The sun's warmth drained away, leaving only cold.
Her hand slipped from his.
"Please," he begged. "Please, I need to remember."
Erwin Smith
"We could try a softer approach," Hange said. "Annie showed emotional vulnerability when Jaime questioned her. Specifically regarding her father."
Erwin's fingers drummed once against the desk. "You're suggesting we use that as leverage."
"It's already leverage," Hange said with a nod. "The question is whether we apply pressure there or look for other weak points."
Levi leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "She's already broken. We just need to push harder."
"Harder how?" Hange asked.
"The traditional way." Levi's voice was flat. "Pain. Fear. Sleep deprivation. Take your pick."
Hange frowned. "Those methods aren't always effective. Especially with someone who's been trained to resist them."
"You think she hasn't been trained to resist emotional manipulation too?" Levi countered. "At least pain is honest."
"Perhaps," Erwin said quietly. Both of them fell silent, turning to look at him. "But Hange raises a valid point. Annie's emotional response to Jaime was genuine. That suggests a vulnerability we can exploit."
"You want to send the brat back in there?" Levi's eyebrow rose. "He's barely holding himself together."
"Not immediately," Erwin said. "But after he's rested. After he's had time to process. He might be more effective than any interrogation technique we could employ."
Hange adjusted her glasses. "There's also the option of bringing in someone else she cares about. Another cadet from the 104th. Someone who could—"
"We don't have time for experiments," Levi interrupted. "The nobles are already moving. Lord Rouven made that clear enough. They want her in their custody, and they'll find a way to get her if we wait too long."
Erwin nodded slowly. "Time is indeed running out. We have perhaps three days before they manufacture some legal pretext to take her. Four at most."
"So what's the plan?" Hange asked.
Before Erwin could answer, a sharp knock sounded at the door.
All three of them looked up.
"Enter," Erwin called.
A young soldier stepped inside, his face flushed from running. He snapped to attention and saluted. "Commander, Cadet Jaime requests an audience with you, sir."
Erwin exchanged a glance with Levi.
"The brat should have slept longer," Levi muttered under his breath, and Erwin was sure he heard concern in his voice, but decided to ignore it for now.
"Let him in," Erwin said.
The soldier saluted again and withdrew. Footsteps sounded in the hallway beyond. The door opened, and Jaime stepped inside.
Erwin had seen many soldiers break over the years. Had watched strong men crumble under the weight of what they'd seen, what they'd done, what they'd lost. He knew what a breaking mind looked like.
This wasn't that.
Jaime stood at attention, his posture correct despite obvious exhaustion. But his purple eyes seemed frozen.
Cold like frozen purple stars, Erwin thought.
"At ease, Cadet," Erwin said. "What can I do for you?"
Jaime's mouth opened. Closed. His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles going white.
Hange and Levi watched in silence. Waiting.
Jaime's mouth opened again. Nothing came out. His jaw worked, muscles tensing beneath his skin. He looked like a man trying to pull words from his throat with his own hands.
The silence stretched. Erwin waited.
Levi pushed off from the wall. "Spit it out, brat. What do you want?"
Jaime's eyes flickered to Levi, then back to Erwin. His mouth opened for a third time. This time, sound almost came, a small, strangled noise that might have been the beginning of a word.
The door burst open.
A different soldier stood there, wild-eyed and breathing hard. He hadn't knocked. Hadn't waited for permission.
"Wall Rose has fallen!"
If you want to Read the Following TWO Chapters, Search 'patreon.com/Drinor' on Websearch