Two Fives
55
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Beyond The Wall / 巨大樹の森
the deep dark woods / 巨大樹の森
Graphic warning
Serenity Alabast leads the soldiers to the site after a long and laborious ride. She finds that they aren't the first to arrive. Others are here, Scout Regiment soldiers, some on horseback, others not. The horses seem to outnumber the soldiers. As Niklas and the others pass another unit, they overhear someone discussing this. “Why's that? Well, Nadia, it doesn't take much to figure that out,” replies one of the soldier's comrades. “Titans don't eat animals. Only humans. Put two and two together, will you?” Others are in the treetops, scouting for any and all titans that may be lurking nearby.
Soldiers continuously ask in this makeshift camp, “Where's Captain Camilla and the other officials?” More often than not, the response is, “They haven't arrived yet.” This does nothing to ease their anxiety. Speaking of which, one soldier is venting out his over losing his sister. Others try to calm him down, lest his loud lamentations attract the titans here.
Sometime after Niklas and his unit dismount their horses, a brief walk brings them to the device in question. This, here, is the source of the radio signal. What they find is an old wooden box, worn by weather and whatever else. Steel bolts at the corners are what have been holding it together. There are holes in the leftmost side, most likely the aftermath of a termite infestation, revealing wires and all sorts of machinery inside. Those here whose backgrounds involve engineering are all confused by it, even more so by the fact that this device is here, left by Wall Maria knows who in the middle of nowhere. From in between the wooden planks, lichen and other mosses spill out like pus from an infected sore. Niklas asks, “This here? This is it? You sure?”
Before Serenity can respond, someone interrupts her, “Yes!” It's the man from before. The one who lost his sister. Everyone looks at him. He has wrinkles from the stress beneath his eyes, bags black as coals that add about twenty or so years to his face. “Yes! That, there, is what my sister died for! My Olivia! She died for this junk. She died for this... this... this fucking box!” When he swears, this is when he kicks it, causing the box to reel onto another one of its sides. Abruptly, the box seems to come alive, sputtering with static and white noise. The man is no longer the centre of attention. The box is. One of those engineers says, “I've never seen anything like it.” This is followed by a chorus of curious murmurs, people wondering what in Wall Maria's name this thing is.
“The King of the Ant Men,” the box transmits. “The King of the Ant Men.” Some may recognise this slogan... these words. Words that are often associated with the Persona Non Grata, a criminal syndicate of thugs and thieves, a network of Marixst terrorists intent on overthrowing Wall Sina's monarchy. The box continues to transmit this message, over and over, like a broken vinyl, constantly, the King of the Ant Men, the King of the Ant Men, the King of the Ant Men, until unexpectedly it stops...
…
…
…
“This King of the Ant Men... is no king of ours.”
Following this transmission another one comes next, not of words, but of sound--a scream. A raw, inhuman scream.
So loud is this scream it scares the wildlife, deer dashing into dark, rabbits burrowing into their bungalows, horses sputtering out their snouts. Any and all animals in the immediate vicinity are sent scattering into the wood's black. “Turn that damn thing off,” one soldier exclaims. Others try to salvage their eardrums by covering their heads with their arms, while others fall to their knees with their faces contorted into excruciating winces. The scream is so loud, in fact, that it almost conceals that oh so familiar thud, thud... thud.
Titans.
Naturally, those who covered their ears or took to their knees are the first to die, having only noticed the titans rushing in from the trees a second too late. They're torn to shreds by tooth and claw, bodies coming apart with spurts of bloody intestines, wasteweirs of blood soaking the earth, the reds of mass murder encompassing the land like an omen on humanity. Soon enough, all of the forest floor is red with human viscera.
Even some of those who noticed the titans beforehand don't make it to the safety of the trees. One soldier is so frightened that he accidentally tangles himself up in his ODM's cables, hanging from a tree like a fruit to be plucked. “Help me,” he screams. “Help me!” Nobody answers his call, his cry for help, either dead, dying or determined not to end up as either of the two. Not even half a minute passes before a titan is wrenching him from the tree and having at him. “Mercy,” he screams, “Mer--!”
A soldier who passes him by is similarly frightened, clumsily missing a branch with her ODM's hook and breaking her neck in a horrifically tragic accident. Another breaks his spinal column in the same way, plummeting down from the trees into an abyss of titans. Unable to move his legs, titans tear him apart like a den of lions with an antelope. One soldier tries to fight. He ends up being a titan's plaything. The titan holds him in between his hands, the fighter's head in his left and his feet in his right, and pulls. Pulls until the fighter's body starts to spill from all over, exploding from the middle like a ketchup bag. After playing with his food, the titan eats.
Somewhere in between all of the death stands a little boy, a teenager of short stature. He can't fly because his equipment has stalled. With no other options available to him, he runs, only to find himself at the mercy of a titan three to four metres tall. Niklas sees him in the corner of his eye, even hears him over the cacophony of chaos as the little boy calls for his mother, opting to save Serenity instead, as much as the decision tears him apart. Knowing Serenity has no equipment of her own to save herself, he hoists her into his arms, flying into the trees. This is after Niklas signals for the others to flee, yelling, “To the trees! There's too much of them! Now!”
An abnormal titan leaps after a soldier halfway through her flight path. Fortunately, this soldier manages to escape... only, when she reaches the treetop, she realises she hasn't any legs to stand on. She feels the excruciating pain only when she looks down at her waist where it opens up into a bloody stump. The abnormal has her legs in his mouth like breadsticks. Perhaps, after all, she isn't so fortunate.
Some other Scout Regiment soldiers share her misfortune, making it to the treetops, but not without cost. Either it's an arm, some other body part or, worst of all, their head. One man, whose leg is gory and gone, screams out in agony all manners of obscenities, “Where the fuck are the officials? Where in Wall Maria's name is Camilla? Where the fuck is that bitch?” About thirty or so soldiers end up dead in the massacre. For some it's short... but for others long, death throes drawn out like a cruel, humourless joke. Some find the suffering so unbearable that they resort to suicide, throwing themselves into the titan pit to end it all. Make that forty or so soldiers. Even so, they'll only know the numbers for certain when they finish counting the bodies.
...
...
...
When the screaming has been stifled by time, a still silence sets itself solid to mark the tragedy. A silence as silent as the grave. A smell fouls the air, the smell blood, a sickening stench of iron. Heavy is the smell, of enough weight to crush the spirits, work the shoulders into a slump, make the stomach drop in on itself. For most if not all of the soldiers, a realisation strikes truer than any of their blades can... that this world is cruel, that this world is an unforgiving wilderness plagued by devils.
Serenity Alabast leads the soldiers to the site after a long and laborious ride. She finds that they aren't the first to arrive. Others are here, Scout Regiment soldiers, some on horseback, others not. The horses seem to outnumber the soldiers. As Niklas and the others pass another unit, they overhear someone discussing this. “Why's that? Well, Nadia, it doesn't take much to figure that out,” replies one of the soldier's comrades. “Titans don't eat animals. Only humans. Put two and two together, will you?” Others are in the treetops, scouting for any and all titans that may be lurking nearby.
Soldiers continuously ask in this makeshift camp, “Where's Captain Camilla and the other officials?” More often than not, the response is, “They haven't arrived yet.” This does nothing to ease their anxiety. Speaking of which, one soldier is venting out his over losing his sister. Others try to calm him down, lest his loud lamentations attract the titans here.
Sometime after Niklas and his unit dismount their horses, a brief walk brings them to the device in question. This, here, is the source of the radio signal. What they find is an old wooden box, worn by weather and whatever else. Steel bolts at the corners are what have been holding it together. There are holes in the leftmost side, most likely the aftermath of a termite infestation, revealing wires and all sorts of machinery inside. Those here whose backgrounds involve engineering are all confused by it, even more so by the fact that this device is here, left by Wall Maria knows who in the middle of nowhere. From in between the wooden planks, lichen and other mosses spill out like pus from an infected sore. Niklas asks, “This here? This is it? You sure?”
Before Serenity can respond, someone interrupts her, “Yes!” It's the man from before. The one who lost his sister. Everyone looks at him. He has wrinkles from the stress beneath his eyes, bags black as coals that add about twenty or so years to his face. “Yes! That, there, is what my sister died for! My Olivia! She died for this junk. She died for this... this... this fucking box!” When he swears, this is when he kicks it, causing the box to reel onto another one of its sides. Abruptly, the box seems to come alive, sputtering with static and white noise. The man is no longer the centre of attention. The box is. One of those engineers says, “I've never seen anything like it.” This is followed by a chorus of curious murmurs, people wondering what in Wall Maria's name this thing is.
“The King of the Ant Men,” the box transmits. “The King of the Ant Men.” Some may recognise this slogan... these words. Words that are often associated with the Persona Non Grata, a criminal syndicate of thugs and thieves, a network of Marixst terrorists intent on overthrowing Wall Sina's monarchy. The box continues to transmit this message, over and over, like a broken vinyl, constantly, the King of the Ant Men, the King of the Ant Men, the King of the Ant Men, until unexpectedly it stops...
…
…
…
“This King of the Ant Men... is no king of ours.”
Following this transmission another one comes next, not of words, but of sound--a scream. A raw, inhuman scream.
So loud is this scream it scares the wildlife, deer dashing into dark, rabbits burrowing into their bungalows, horses sputtering out their snouts. Any and all animals in the immediate vicinity are sent scattering into the wood's black. “Turn that damn thing off,” one soldier exclaims. Others try to salvage their eardrums by covering their heads with their arms, while others fall to their knees with their faces contorted into excruciating winces. The scream is so loud, in fact, that it almost conceals that oh so familiar thud, thud... thud.
Titans.
Naturally, those who covered their ears or took to their knees are the first to die, having only noticed the titans rushing in from the trees a second too late. They're torn to shreds by tooth and claw, bodies coming apart with spurts of bloody intestines, wasteweirs of blood soaking the earth, the reds of mass murder encompassing the land like an omen on humanity. Soon enough, all of the forest floor is red with human viscera.
Even some of those who noticed the titans beforehand don't make it to the safety of the trees. One soldier is so frightened that he accidentally tangles himself up in his ODM's cables, hanging from a tree like a fruit to be plucked. “Help me,” he screams. “Help me!” Nobody answers his call, his cry for help, either dead, dying or determined not to end up as either of the two. Not even half a minute passes before a titan is wrenching him from the tree and having at him. “Mercy,” he screams, “Mer--!”
A soldier who passes him by is similarly frightened, clumsily missing a branch with her ODM's hook and breaking her neck in a horrifically tragic accident. Another breaks his spinal column in the same way, plummeting down from the trees into an abyss of titans. Unable to move his legs, titans tear him apart like a den of lions with an antelope. One soldier tries to fight. He ends up being a titan's plaything. The titan holds him in between his hands, the fighter's head in his left and his feet in his right, and pulls. Pulls until the fighter's body starts to spill from all over, exploding from the middle like a ketchup bag. After playing with his food, the titan eats.
Somewhere in between all of the death stands a little boy, a teenager of short stature. He can't fly because his equipment has stalled. With no other options available to him, he runs, only to find himself at the mercy of a titan three to four metres tall. Niklas sees him in the corner of his eye, even hears him over the cacophony of chaos as the little boy calls for his mother, opting to save Serenity instead, as much as the decision tears him apart. Knowing Serenity has no equipment of her own to save herself, he hoists her into his arms, flying into the trees. This is after Niklas signals for the others to flee, yelling, “To the trees! There's too much of them! Now!”
An abnormal titan leaps after a soldier halfway through her flight path. Fortunately, this soldier manages to escape... only, when she reaches the treetop, she realises she hasn't any legs to stand on. She feels the excruciating pain only when she looks down at her waist where it opens up into a bloody stump. The abnormal has her legs in his mouth like breadsticks. Perhaps, after all, she isn't so fortunate.
Some other Scout Regiment soldiers share her misfortune, making it to the treetops, but not without cost. Either it's an arm, some other body part or, worst of all, their head. One man, whose leg is gory and gone, screams out in agony all manners of obscenities, “Where the fuck are the officials? Where in Wall Maria's name is Camilla? Where the fuck is that bitch?” About thirty or so soldiers end up dead in the massacre. For some it's short... but for others long, death throes drawn out like a cruel, humourless joke. Some find the suffering so unbearable that they resort to suicide, throwing themselves into the titan pit to end it all. Make that forty or so soldiers. Even so, they'll only know the numbers for certain when they finish counting the bodies.
...
...
...
When the screaming has been stifled by time, a still silence sets itself solid to mark the tragedy. A silence as silent as the grave. A smell fouls the air, the smell blood, a sickening stench of iron. Heavy is the smell, of enough weight to crush the spirits, work the shoulders into a slump, make the stomach drop in on itself. For most if not all of the soldiers, a realisation strikes truer than any of their blades can... that this world is cruel, that this world is an unforgiving wilderness plagued by devils.
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