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The makeshift lab in the Survey Corps headquarters was a far cry from Hange's original chaotic haven, but she'd made it her own in record time. Crates served as tables, salvaged lanterns cast flickering shadows across the stone walls, and the air still carried a faint, lingering stench of Titan preservative fluid clinging to everything like a bad memory. Moblit hovered nearby, a stack of notebooks in his arms, looking like a man who'd rather be facing a Titan than whatever Hange was about to unleash next (He ain't lying).
Hange hunched over her workbench, her magnifying lens pressed firmly to one eye, distorting her features into a comically intense grimace. In front of her lay the splintered piece of wood from Rolf's report; the "evidence" from the 103rd Cadet Corps grounds. The four parallel gouges carved into it were deep and ragged, like the desperate scratches of something trying to tear through reality itself.
"Fascinating," she muttered, her breath fogging the lens slightly. "Look at the curvature here, Moblit. The outer claws dug shallower, almost like it was twisting mid-swipe. Not a clean attack; this was frantic, uncontrolled. Pain? Rage? Or both?"
Moblit leaned in, squinting at the wood. "It matches the marks from your desk, Squad Leader. Same spacing, same depth variation. The eldritch dog… it's consistent."
Hange nodded absently, setting the wood aside. She picked up a small glass slide next, where she'd mounted a single strand of purple fur she'd painstakingly tweezed from one of the gouges. Under the magnifying lens, it shimmered unnaturally, refracting the lantern light into eerie, iridescent patterns.
"This fur… it's definitely not like anything terrestrial," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper of awe. "The core structure is crystalline; tiny fibers that look almost like embedded amethyst. It's why it catches light so strangely, almost bioluminescent under pressure. And the texture? Resilient, but flexible. Not wolf, not bear… not even Titan hide. This is something else entirely."
She straightened, rubbing her eye where the lens had pressed a red ring into her skin. "Compared to Obsidian's shard? Worlds apart. The crystal was pure mineral; dense, unyielding, like it was grown in a lab. This fur feels organic, but… warped. Mutated, maybe. Like evolution got drunk and decided to experiment."
Moblit jotted notes furiously, his pencil scratching against the paper. "And the implications?"
"Endless," Hange breathed, her eyes gleaming. "But we need more data. This single strand isn't enough… it's like trying to understand a Titan from a fingernail clipping."
Her gaze shifted to the far end of the bench, where the small vial of black, purple-sheened ichor blood sat isolated, like a quarantined prisoner. Even from here, she could feel a subtle warmth radiating from it; unnatural, insistent, like the vial was alive and watching her.
"And now, the real mystery," she said, picking it up gingerly between thumb and forefinger. She held it to the lantern light, watching the viscous fluid shift sluggishly inside. The purple sheen caught the flame, refracting it into sickly, wavering rainbows. "This isn't clotting like blood should. It's… active. And it's warm; warmer than when I collected it. Almost body temperature."
Moblit stepped back instinctively, his eyes widening. "Squad Leader… should we contain it better? If it's unstable—"
"Not yet," Hange replied, her voice laced with excitement. "I need to observe. Hand me the dropper."
With careful precision, she uncorked the vial and dipped a thin glass pipette inside. The ichor clung to the tip reluctantly, stretching like taffy before releasing. She transferred a single drop to a fresh slide and slid it under her microscope.
The magnified view was a grotesque revelation.
The substance wasn't blood, not in any conventional sense. Under high magnification, it seethed with microscopic activity: tiny, segmented chains writhing like centipedes, interlocking and separating in hypnotic, rhythmic patterns. They pulsed with an inner luminescence, the purple sheen emanating from bioluminescent nodes along their "bodies." Woven through the chaos were threads of crystalline material, like shards of amethyst embedded in living tissue.
"This is… messed up," Hange whispered, her eye glued to the lens. "It's not organic or inorganic, it's a hybrid. The chains are replicating like cells, but too fast, too erratically. And the heat… it's metabolic. This stuff is generating energy, like a living reactor. But the structure—it's degrading. The bonds are breaking down and building pressure."
Moblit leaned closer. "Is it stable?"
Hange didn't answer immediately. She watched as the drop on the slide began to vibrate, tiny bubbles forming at the edges, fizzing softly like carbonated acid.
"No," she said finally, her voice tight with dawning alarm. "It's not. The compounds are destabilizing. Moblit, get down—"
The warning came a heartbeat too late.
The vial in her hand; the remaining half-full sample; began to boil.
It wasn't a gentle simmer. The ichor surged violently against the glass, the purple sheen flashing to an angry crimson. Tiny fissures spiderwebbed across the vial's surface as internal pressure built in seconds. Hange's eyes widened, she hurled it away, but the vial shattered mid-air with a sharp, deafening POP, like a firecracker in a confined space.
Black-purple sludge erupted in a pressurized spray, splattering across the workbench, the walls, Hange's coat, and the floor in a wide arc. She dove sideways, tackling Moblit to the ground as the main mass hit the air.
The reaction was instantaneous and catastrophic; a chain of micro-explosions rippled through the scattered droplets like strings of firecrackers. Each detonation released bursts of searing heat and acrid smoke that smelled like burning ozone, charred meat, and something acridly chemical, like melted plastic from another world.
The workbench ignited in patches where larger globs had landed, the wood blackening and curled to itself. Papers burst into flame, curling into ash mid-air. A nearby vial of ethanol shattered from the heat expansion, adding a whoosh of blue alcohol fire to the inferno. Shards of glass rained down like deadly confetti, embedding in the crates and floor.
Hange and Moblit huddled under the bench, her arms shielding him as the room filled with choking smoke and the crackle of flames. The air grew unbearably hot, waves of radiant energy pulsing from the epicenters of the explosions.
"Water bucket! Now!" Hange yelled over the din, coughing as acrid fumes clawed at her throat.
Moblit scrambled out from under her, grabbing the emergency pail by the door and dousing the workbench. Steam billowed up in choking clouds, hissing like a nest of vipers, but the flames sputtered and died, leaving blackened scars and smoldering embers.
The room fell into a stunned, smoky silence, broken only by the drip of cooling residue and their ragged breathing. Hange pushed herself up, coughing, her coat singed and speckled with black spots. She stared at the charred workbench, her magnifying lens cracked but still clutched in her fist like a talisman.
"That… was not normal," Moblit gasped, wiping soot from his face.
Hange's eyes were wide, not with fear, but with a manic gleam that bordered on euphoria. "No, Moblit. That was proof. The ichor, it's unstable, hyper-reactive to oxygen or agitation. The boiling was a chain reaction, like a biological explosive. Heat generation on par with a furnace. This isn't just blood; it's a weapon. A living, adaptive weapon designed to self-destruct or… or weaponize on exposure."
She staggered to her feet, brushing off glass shards with trembling hands. "And if that's what leaks out of this thing… imagine what the creature itself can do when cornered. We need more. We need to see the source…the cadet grounds. Rolf's report mentioned stronger tracks there, around an old latrine. If there's a den, fresh samples, ichor pools—I need to see it myself. The wood and that one strand aren't enough. This thing's biology is rewriting the rules, and I won't get answers from charred scraps."
Moblit blinked through the haze, already half way confused by his squad leader's ramble. "The cadet grounds? Now? After… that?"
"Especially after that," Hange said, her voice hardening with resolve. "I'm going to Erwin. This can't wait."
She stripped off her singed coat and tossed it aside like shed skin before storming out, leaving Moblit to stare at the smoldering ruins. The lab was trashed…again.
Erwin's office…
The Commander's office was a bastion of controlled tension, maps and reports spread across the desk like a battlefield. Erwin sat behind it, his bandaged stump a constant, throbbing reminder as Levi helped him examine reports, frown evident on his face on how some of Erwin's handwritings were misarranged. Mike stood by the window as he stared outside.
Hange burst in without knocking, her hair disheveled, a faint smell of smoke clinging to her like a bad perfume. Soot streaked her face, and her coat was conspicuously absent.
"Erwin! The strange blood—it's volatile! Reactive! It exploded, Erwin! Like a biological bomb! The compounds destabilized on exposure, generating heat and—"
Erwin held up his left hand, silencing her mid-rant. "Slow down, Hange. Exploded? Are you hurt?"
She waved it off, pacing frantically. "I'm fine, Moblit's fine, the lab's a mess, but listen! The sample from my office—it's not stable. I was observing it under the scope, and the vial just… went off. Scattered everywhere, ignited on contact. The heat output was immense, like a localized forge. And the fur from the wood; it's crystalline-cored, bioluminescent under stress. This creature isn't natural, Erwin. It's engineered. Mutated. And if the cadet grounds have more traces—a den, maybe—I need to go. Now. Before the trail goes cold or the Garrison tramples it."
Levi stopped reading, his eyes narrowing to slits. "You want to ride out to the 103rd? After your lab just tried to barbecue you?"
"Not alone," Hange shot back, her excitement undimmed by the near-disaster. "With my men obviously. I need to see it firsthand. The evidence Rolf brought; it's compelling, but incomplete. If there's a nest or a lair, fresh blood, more fur, environmental samples, I can piece this together. We need to understand this thing before it hits us or anyone again."
Erwin leaned back, his expression a mask of calculation. He weighed the risks: Hange's expertise was irreplaceable, but sending her into potential danger, especially with the beast's phasing and now newfound explosive biology, was a gamble. Yet her analysis had already proven critical…denying her could mean missing the key to containing this threat.
He glanced at Levi and Mike. Levi's jaw was set, clearly against it, but he said nothing. Mike gave a subtle nod, whatever was out there, knowledge was their best weapon.
"Permission granted," Erwin said finally. "Assemble your squad. Move fast, stay alert. Report back by nightfall if possible. And Hange—"
She paused at the door, already mentally packing her kit.
"—be careful. We can't afford to lose you."
She flashed a grin through the soot. "Aw, Erwin! I didn't know you cared. I'll bring back souvenirs!"
As the door slammed shut behind her, Levi snorted. "She's going to get herself killed one day."
Erwin's gaze lingered on the door, a flicker of concern breaking through his composure. "Perhaps. But until then, she's our best asset against the unknown."
Mike's nose flared all of a sudden but he just shook his head.
"…The fuck was that?" Levi asked.
"Nothing…I thought I smelt something akin to fish."
Levi and Erwin spared a glance at each other and resumed work, though not before Levi looked back at the door Hange had just momentarily left, his deadpan eyes narrowing in slight suspicion.
"Tch" That was all he said before resuming the files in front of him.
In the shadowed alcove just outside the office; where a stack of supply crates provided convenient cover; "Lya"; a squad member of 'Rolf's team' had been listening, her ear pressed to the thin wall. Her face remained impassive, but her mind raced. Hange was moving fast. This couldn't be allowed.
She slipped away into the corridors, her steps silent as she made for the stables. Time to intercept. But as she turned a corner, she nearly collided with a scout; quickly composing herself, she continued.
In less than 30 minutes, Hange had saddled her horse with frantic energy outside.
"Moblit! Grab the reinforced sample kit—extra vials, gloves, tongs! And the leather pouches; if we find fresh blood, we can't risk another explosion!"
Moblit who was juggling gear, nodded frantically. Keiji, Abel, and Nifa; veteran scouts that are part of the fourth squad, stood by, checking their ODM harnesses and blades with quiet efficiency. Keiji, a broad-shouldered man with a perpetual squint, adjusted his straps. "Squad Leader, you sure about this? The 103rd's nearly a full day's ride."
"Positive," Hange replied, swinging into the saddle. "The answers are there. Let's—"
"Squad Leader Zoë."
The voice cut through the bustle like a blade. Hange turned, her eyes narrowing as Squad Leader Rolf approached, his face a mask of professional concern. He saluted crisply, but something in his eyes; too steady, too focused…set her instincts jangling.
"Squad leader Rolf," she said, keeping her tone light. "Come to see us off?"
He nodded as he stepped close. "Something like that. Heading to the 103rd?"
Hange's grip tightened on the reins. "Following up on your evidence. Good work, by the way, the wood was a goldmine."
Rolf's lips thinned into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Appreciated. But… I'm afraid I can't let you do that."
The words hung in the air, polite but laced with steel. The stables fell silent. Moblit froze mid-stride while Keiji watched the scout warily.
Hange's manic energy shifted to something colder. "Excuse me?"
Rolf's expression hardened. "It's not safe. The trail's cold, and with the beast's abilities—"
Hange laughed, sharp and dismissive. "Safe? This is the Scouts, Rolf. Safe is for the MPs. Now, if you'll excuse me—"
She urged her horse forward. Rolf's hand shot out, grabbing the reins with iron strength. The animal snorted in protest.
"I said," he repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "I can't let you do that. I shouldn't have told Erwin anything in the first place. The foolish commander was asking about reports from where we came from…should have known the bastard would be suspicious enough."
Hange's eyes widened; not in fear, but in dawning realization. "Who are you?"
Rolf; Edric; smirked. "Someone who sees the bigger picture."
He yanked the reins hard, unbalancing the horse. It reared, whinnying in panic. Hange clung on, but Edric followed through, a swift punch aimed at her midsection to knock her from the saddle.
She twisted, the blow glancing off her side. Pain flared, but adrenaline drowned it. "Moblit! Sound the alarm!"
Moblit bolted for the stable doors, yanking the alarm bell rope. A clangor rang out, echoing through the compound. But shadows detached from the alcoves: "Ray" and "Foss," their faces set in grim determination.
Keiji and Abel drew their blades, stepping in to intercept. "Stand down! What the hell is this?"
"Traitors," Hange hissed, dismounting in a fluid roll as her horse bolted. She came up with a wrench from her saddlebag; improvised, but heavy. "They're not who they say they are!"
The stables erupted into violence.
Edric lunged at Hange, his fists a blur of trained precision. She dodged, swinging the wrench in a wide arc that forced him back. He countered with a low sweep, nearly tripping her, but she jumped, bringing the wrench down toward his shoulder. He blocked with his forearm; the impact jarred her arms, but he grunted in pain, staggering back.
"You're quick for a mad scientist," Edric sneered, wiping blood from his lip.
"You're talkative for a dead man." Hange shot back coldly, her body wild with adrenaline.
Moblit reached the doors but "Ray" was on him, tackling him to the ground. Moblit fought back, elbowing "Ray" in the ribs, but the impostor was stronger, pinning him and landing a punch that dazed him. Nifa rushed to help, her blade flashing; she slashed at "Ray's" arm, drawing blood. "Ray" howled, rolling off Moblit.
Keiji engaged "Foss," blades clashing in a spark of steel. Abel flanked Edric, trying to divide his attention while Hange pressed the attack. The stables became a whirlwind of grunts, crashes, and the neighing of panicked horses stampeding out the open doors.
Edric feinted left, then struck right, his fist connecting with Hange's jaw. Stars exploded in her vision, but she didn't go down; she headbutted him, feeling his nose crunch. Blood sprayed, and Edric staggered, clutching his face.
"You bitch—" he snarled.
Hange grinned through the pain, blood trickling from her split lip. "I've been called worse by Titans."
Abel lunged, his blade aiming for Edric's leg. Edric twisted, the cut grazing his thigh. He retaliated with a kick that sent Abel sprawling into a hay bale, winded but alive.
Keiji disarmed "Foss" with a swift twist, but "Foss" headbutted him hard. Keiji reeled, clutching his forehead as "Foss's" face flickered like a bad lantern, pixels scrambling, the skin warping to reveal a stranger's features beneath, pale and unfamiliar.
"What the—?" Keiji gasped, stunned. "Your face—it's changing!"
The revelation hit like a thunderclap. The escorts froze for a split second, processing the impossible…faces changing? Moblit, bloodied but unbowed, grabbed a pitchfork from the wall and swung it wildly, keeping "Ray" at bay as the impostor's mask glitched from the earlier slash, revealing sharp, cold eyes beneath.
"Who are you people?" Nifa demanded, her blade pointed at "Ray" as she helped Moblit up. "Spies? From where?"
"Ray" laughed, a cold, mirthless sound, his voice distorting slightly as the mask stabilized. "From a higher purpose. You Scouts meddle in things you can't comprehend."
The fight escalated into a maelstrom. Keiji recovered and tackled "Foss," ripping at the glitching mask; it tore away with an electronic fizzle, fully exposing the Knight's true face. "Foss" headbutted Keiji again, breaking free, but Keiji countered with a knee to the gut.
Abel rose, winded, and joined Hange against Edric. "What the hell is this tech? Who sent you?!"
Edric dodged Abel's slash, countering with a brutal elbow to the ribs. Abel gasped, doubling over. Edric grabbed him by the collar, slamming him against a stall door. "You have no idea what's coming. The purge begins."
The alarm bells brought reinforcements; scouts pouring into the stables, blades drawn, stunned by the sight of comrades fighting comrades, faces melting like illusions.
"They're impostors!" Hange shouted over the chaos. "Masks—rip them off!"
Chaos multiplied. Scouts swarmed "Ray" and "Foss," but the Knights fought like demons; "Foss" disarmed one scout with a vicious twist, breaking his arm. "Ray" headbutted another, his mask cracking fully, revealing the truth.
Levi arrived like a storm.
He didn't announce himself, he simply appeared, dropping from the rafters like a shadow given form. His boot connected with "Ray's" back, sending him crashing into a stall. Levi landed in a crouch, dual blades drawn, eyes cold as death.
"What the hell is this?" Levi demanded, his voice a venomous whisper, staring at the glitching faces in stunned fury and contained shock. "You shits for sack had infiltrated the scouts this whole time haven't you." It was more of an accusation than a question.
Edric spun, blood streaming from his nose. "Captain Levi. This doesn't concern—"
Levi moved. It wasn't a fight; it was an execution. He closed the distance in a blink, his blade sliced across Edric's cheek; not deep, but precise. Edric staggered, clutching his face as the skin shimmered and glitched, the ID Mask failing in a burst of static as the mask fell off. The impostor's true face emerged, a very uncannily familiar, a known member of Rolf's squad…also playing disguise?
Duran?!
"Your face—" Levi hissed, stunned for a split second, blade frozen mid-air. "What kind of sorcery is this?!"
Edric laughed, manic and cold. "Sorcery? You primitives wouldn't understand. But know this; the walls you hide behind? They're crumbling. The stars are coming, and they bring judgment."
The revelation ignited the room. "Their faces are fake!" a scout shouted. "Impostors in our ranks!"
Hange, breathing hard, grabbed her horse's reins amid the chaos. "Levi! Cover me, I'm heading out!"
Levi nodded mid-fight, his blade locking with Edric's hidden dagger. "Go! We'll handle these bastards."
Hange spurred her horse, bursting from the stables with Moblit, Keiji, Abel, and Nifa in tow. But in the confusion; scouts piling on "Foss" and "Ray," blades flashing, shouts echoing; Edric broke free. He shoved a scout aside, bolted for a tethered horse outside, and mounted in one fluid motion.
"Stop him!" Levi roared, slashing at "Foss" to disarm him.
Edric spurred away, galloping through the gates. Levi cursed, wiping blood from his blade. "Damn it—after him!"
But Mike was already moving. "I've got it," he growled, vaulting onto a horse and thundering out in pursuit.
Levi turned back to the captured "Foss" and "Ray," now bound and unmasked, their true faces pale and defiant. "Take them to the cells. And find out who the hell they are, and how long they've been here."
As the impostors were dragged away, spitting curses about "cosmic blights" and "purification," Levi stared at the gates, a knot of unease in his gut. Duran…was hiding in 'Rolf's' face, wasn't he a member of Rolf's squad…or he wasn't really part of the scouts in the first place. Then that meant the infiltrators had been deep. If so…for how long?
One scout, staring at the glitching remnants of a mask on the floor, muttered in stunned horror: "Who were these guys? Were they moles within the Survey Corps this whole time?!"
Levi's eyes narrowed. "That's what we're going to find out."
But in the melee, no one had noticed "Lya" and "Duran" slipping away earlier.
Chapter 26-31 are already available on Patreon.com/Weeb Fanthom.