Inside the Walls, the Underground City.
"You can leave now."
Mr. Torin looked at the man in front of him as he spoke.
Both of them had heard the immense, crushing tremor outside, but Erwin didn't know what it was.
Only Torin understood clearly: it was the sound of his disciple, Roger, unleashing the Rumbling—and he had kept the man before him confined for a full two days.
No… "confined" wasn't quite right.
It was more like he had invited him to play chess for two days straight, feeding him and putting him up the whole time.
Even as a vagrant with little money, Torin had still managed to ensure that Erwin could not leave this room no matter what—forced to eat the meals Torin cooked with his own hands.
The chessboard between them had reached a white-hot stage.
Yes—still that very first game.
Erwin normally didn't study chess much, but in his duel with Mr. Torin, he hadn't dropped a single piece.
Back and forth. Counter and counter. Even Mr. Torin had grown tense.
Only Erwin showed no reaction at all, as if every move he made was simply routine—never once feeling like he'd driven Torin into desperation, as if such a thing didn't even exist.
Now Erwin also heard the shaking outside. He didn't know what had happened, but he could imagine it wasn't anything good. For the people inside the Walls, it could only mean disaster.
But he couldn't get out—and he also didn't want to struggle with Mr. Torin anymore, because in terms of raw force, he was no match.
The strange treasured sword in Torin's hand seemed far stronger than Erwin had expected. It wasn't an ordinary blade. It felt… as though it held some kind of uncanny power.
Every time Erwin tried to clash with him directly, that sword crushed him without mercy.
Yet now Torin was telling him he could leave.
Erwin couldn't disrespect an elder. He stood, bowed deeply to the old man, and then walked out into the Underground City.
After seeing the scene outside, he fell into thought.
He didn't react like the others—didn't rush out screaming, "Where did the Wall go?!" "Why is everything in ruins?!" "What happened?!"
He didn't do that.
He didn't ask anyone anything, either.
He simply turned around, walked back, returned to Mr. Torin's room, and sat down again before the chessboard.
"As expected of the commander of the Survey Corps. I've heard about you. You seem to be one of the strongest people inside the Walls. In courage and strategy, you're no less than my former master," Torin said, watching Erwin. "To stay this calm in a situation like this, to sit here and keep playing chess with me… it means you've already decided what you'll do next. So go ahead. Whether you want to kill me or cooperate with me, I'll gladly entertain either."
But Erwin didn't do what Torin said.
He didn't propose cooperation.
He didn't draw his blades to kill him.
He simply kept playing chess in silence, not speaking a word.
So they sat there, dry and still, placing pieces with no urgency—one move, then another, then another.
Outside, the sounds grew quieter.
At first there were still tremors.
Now there was nothing at all.
It was as if they had gone far away… as if they had already left Paradis Island.
And right then—Erwin made his move.
One move—miraculously—and the game ended. He annihilated Mr. Torin, leaving him with nothing.
Torin hadn't expected that no matter how careful he was, he would still overlook a single move.
Sure enough, the man in front of him was not someone to underestimate.
But why now?
Why choose this exact moment—when the Titans had moved far away?
After placing the final piece and defeating Torin completely, Erwin began packing up the board, returning the pieces to their box. Then he looked at the old man across from him.
Torin looked back and found Erwin's eyes startlingly clear—like someone who had already seen through everything.
"You're not ordinary. Ask what you want to ask."
"What will Roger do next?" Erwin asked.
"I don't know. He might only destroy Marley… or he might destroy the entire world. It depends entirely on his own will. I have no right to interfere."
Then Erwin looked again at the treasured sword in Torin's hand.
"That sword… it's meant for Roger, isn't it?" he said.
Torin didn't expect the man to see even that. He nodded. "Yes. But how did you know?"
"Because you never let it see the light," Erwin said calmly. "It's always been wrapped in its scabbard. Obviously you don't want anyone to know you have it—maybe you didn't even want me to see its full shape. But I know it isn't an ordinary sword. There has to be a story behind it." His voice was analytical, matter-of-fact.
"As expected of you," Torin said, sighing. "Yes, you're right. That sword is indeed for Roger—but not yet. I have to wait until he returns to this island to give it to him. Otherwise, he'll hand it over to the enemy along with everything else."
"Hand it over?" Erwin repeated.
"Yes." Torin exhaled. "That enemy isn't as simple as he thinks… but they're also not as difficult as he fears. If he had this sword, killing them wouldn't be a problem. But right now, he must experience a defeat."
"Why?"
"Because it determines whether he can truly overcome them. I don't trust him with this sword yet, because even I don't fully understand the enemy's nature. If I give it to him carelessly, there's a good chance it will be tricked away in the battles to come."
"So you want him to build experience," Erwin said.
"Exactly," Torin replied. "And clearly you understand better than I do. When that little girl came looking for you before, you were thinking the same thing, weren't you? Only when someone tastes failure because of their own decision will they understand how precious the truth is."
"No," Erwin said quietly. "It's not that complicated. I just wanted her to be a proper commander—to lead people forward bravely. Not like me."
"You've already done more than enough," Torin said. "Retiring now is nothing. Don't care what others think. There's nothing funny about that."
"You're right," Erwin admitted. Then he picked up the teapot on the table. "But the next stage shouldn't be controlled entirely by me. Old men have to leave the stage sooner or later. If you stay on the battlefield too long, your own experience will mislead you—and you'll make the wrong calls." He paused. "Do you think that makes me lacking in confidence?"
"No." Torin snatched the teapot, then poured tea for both of them. "You and my master both once had that thought. So the words I told him back then—I'll give to you as well. Listen carefully."
"Please speak, elder."
"Man plans, heaven decides. The world belongs to us, and it belongs to them—but in the end, it belongs to the young. Only the young can decide where the future goes, because the rules of the world aren't set by one person or two. They require many people—many future generations—working together to make them real. So giving them the chance to be tempered… you won't be wrong."
"That's true," Erwin said.
They looked at each other—and drank their tea dry together.
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