Tristan stands a few steps away, observing the vastness of the horizon. The ruins of a world frozen between past and future stretch as far as the eye can see. The wind blows, carrying dust and lost memories. There are no armies, no spectators. Here, time is nothing more than an idea, and space a symbol. Tristan speaks, his voice soft but firm, breaking the silence that hung over Eren.
"Eren…" Tristan begins, almost as a whisper, "why… why did you choose the Great Retaliation? Was it the only possible path? Or were you already lost before this choice was even offered to you?"
Eren does not look away. His pupils are fixed on the reddish horizon, as if trying to read the fate of his companions and his people there. His voice, when it finally comes, is calm but weighted with all the years of pain and contained anger.
"Tristan… I did not choose because it was easy. I did not choose because I wanted to be a monster. I chose because there was no other way. Every moment I've lived has led me here. Every loss, every cry, every pleading gaze… all of it compels me. To step back would be to condemn my people to oblivion."
Tristan tilts his head slightly, studying Eren with careful attention. He takes a deep breath before continuing, his role as the author taking over: the one who asks the essential question revealing the character's philosophy.
"But Eren… you speak of protection. You speak of survival. Tell me… what is freedom if it must be obtained through massacre? What is freedom if it requires that you be hated, misunderstood, and that you turn the innocent into victims of your design?"
Eren tightens his fists slightly, tension visible in every muscle. His eyes shine, and his voice rises, yet always with that cold determination that has marked every decision he has made since childhood.
"Tristan, you speak as if freedom could be gentle, as if my people's survival could be achieved in peace. But you don't know what it's like to live chained, to feel the whole world watch you as a threat, as a monster before even knowing you. The Eldians have been oppressed for centuries, massacred, hunted, reduced to legends of hatred in the memories of others. Freedom… survival… they do not exist if we wait for the world's permission."
Tristan, silent for a moment, observes. He knows words alone cannot probe the depth of the pain residing in Eren. He continues, seeking to provoke reflection, to dig into the young man's conscience.
"And yet, Eren… there are always paths that do not demand the sacrifice of so many innocents. Even if the world is against you, even if your people are threatened… is there not an alternative that does not turn justice into vengeance and freedom into massacre?"
Eren finally turns his gaze from the horizon, and for a moment, his face seems to crack. A glimmer of fatigue passes through his eyes, but it is quickly replaced by resolve. He speaks, not to justify himself, but to expose the logic that has guided him for years.
"Tristan… you think I haven't considered it? Every night, every dream, every silence confronted me with this question. But I understood: if I step back now, everything I've fought for will be in vain. Everything I've lost… my mother, my friends, the lives sacrificed around me… it will all have been for nothing. If I want Paradis to survive, I must walk in the shadow of hatred."
Tristan nods slowly, but his expression betrays a concern that reason alone cannot soothe. He chooses his words carefully, weighing each one so the dialogue becomes more than a conversation: a mirror of Eren's soul.
"Eren… I understand necessity, the logic of survival. But tell me… is there not a weight you refuse to see? Every life you destroy, every pain you inflict… will it not resonate? Will it not perpetuate the cycle of hatred you seek to break?"
Eren closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. When he opens them, there is no more doubt. His voice is low, almost a whisper of truth, but each word strikes like a hammer on the steel of destiny.
"Tristan… I know. I know that the pain I create will not be the same as the pain I've felt. Some will be destroyed, others will learn, others will remain neutral. But this is the risk I must accept. There is no other way. My people's freedom demands this sacrifice, and if I must become the monster the world fears, then so be it."
Silence falls between them, heavy and dense, as if the wind itself is holding its breath. Tristan, watching Eren, knows that this moment is crucial—not to change his decision, but to expose his logic and motivations to the reader. He asks the final question, one that summarizes the entire philosophical dilemma.
"So, Eren… if you move forward, if you refuse to step back, what do you become? Will you still be human? Or are you already an instrument of the destiny and hatred you seek to transform?"
Eren smiles faintly, but there is no joy in this smile. It is the smile of someone who has accepted his role, who has understood his point of no return.
"Tristan… I'm not sure I remain fully human. Perhaps I've already lost it. But humanity has never been a question of softness or universal morality. Humanity is protecting those we love, even if it requires crossing the abyss, carrying the weight of hatred, and becoming the necessary monster so that others may live free."
Silence falls again. The wind grows stronger, and the ruins seem to whisper echoes of past and future choices. Tristan, for his part, knows that the question he has asked will linger in the reader's mind: what would we do if confronted with a choice where every step back means losing those we love?
Eren, in his silence, understands that hatred and pain are tools, and that freedom sometimes requires crossing the darkest shadow. Tristan steps back slightly, leaving the young man facing the horizon. The ruins become a symbol, not of destruction, but of choice, philosophy, and the complexity of freedom.