"Hey! Even if it's a test, there should be limits, right?"
Erwin saw the Military Police Brigade's growing brutality toward Mikasa and rushed forward.
"If this continues, the child will be beaten to death!" Alvin - watching Davion with a helpless look - stepped closer. His influence wasn't enough; he could only take a few hurried steps toward the Military Police Brigade and plead, "Nile Dok! Stop your soldiers. The test is over. She's just a child—no combat training at all. If this keeps up, she'll die."
Nile Dok, head of the Military Police Brigade, answered helplessly, "This is an order from the President. I can't stop it."
"If this goes on, the child will die!" Alvin cried, panic rising. He glanced at Eren. Mikasa follows Eren… For her master, an Ackerman will do anything… Maybe there was only one way.
Erwin rolled up his sleeves and stepped toward Eren. "I'm sorry—for the 'test'—" He hesitated, then, compelled by some fierce, awful reasoning, raised his hand and slapped the boy.
Eren stared, stunned. He had no words. The slap was meant to break something—meant to force a reaction—but even as guilt stabbed Erwin, he convinced himself it was to save both children.
A cold snort cut through the air. "Oh? So you want to use this brat to provoke the Ackerman," someone spat. "What good will your 'gentleness' do? Step aside. Let me handle it."
Before Erwin could react, Davion shoved through, knocking Eren and his chair to the floor.
"Brat!" Davion grabbed Eren and slapped him again—harder. Blood splattered onto Eren's lip.
Eren turned his head and glared without speaking.
Zeke clenched his fists, seething, but he was weak. All he could do was watch and pin his hope on Mikasa.
"Are you mute? Can't you scream?" Davion snarled as he continued to beat Eren. "If you don't scream, how will anyone notice you? How will you awaken? Scream! Open your mouth! Screa—"
Eren kept his mouth clamped shut. When he did open it, it was only to spit blood—no sound came out. He stared at Davion like a rock: unyielding.
"That look—" someone whispered. "Terrifying."
"Is that how a child acts after being beaten?"
"Maybe he's the Titan's brother. If I kill him by mistake now, I can claim it was an accident…"
That thought made Davion strike harder.
Simple onlookers began to murmur in horror. "Are those Military Police Brigade going to kill him? The child's vomiting blood…"
"Eren!" Carla in the witness stand could no longer contain herself. Her daughter battered, her son injured—how could she stand it?
Hannes clamped his hand over her mouth and pulled her back. "Carla! No! Not here—this is in front of the King and President. We can't resist. We'd be punished and executed!"
Carla stared at him in stunned disbelief. "Do you expect me to watch my children beaten to death with my own eyes?!"
Hannes' face crumpled. He hugged her tight, voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I can't let you go. They'll kill us both."
Carla's sobs grew louder.
Keith, from his seat, had had enough. He moved toward the iron bars with the clear intent to break through.
"Captain!" Mike barked, grabbing his arm. "What are you doing?"
"I can't just sit here while two defenseless children are beaten!" Keith snapped.
"But this—this is the President's order! The King watches! If we act rashly, we'll bring ruin on all of us!" Mike pleaded. "One wrong move and everyone pays."
Keith's fists clenched. Then, without warning, Hange and several new recruits—young men and women from the underground—flashed forward, breaking through the crowd.
Keith followed.
Mike went pale. "Ah! If these two groups clash openly, it'll look like an uprising!"
Mikasa had lost count of the blows. The only thing keeping her tethered to consciousness was the image of Eren. She searched for Eren, terrified—and then she saw Davion's hands on him. A sudden, explosive force burst from her small body.
Mikasa sprang up. The two Military Police Brigade who had been beating Eren were thrown back as if struck by a gust. She snatched the knife from the ground and, before anyone could make sense of it, dashed forward.
"So fast!" Hange cried.
In the blink of an eye, Mikasa was behind Davion and stabbed him in the back.
"What—?!" Davion wheeled in shock; ten heartbeats ago the girl had been pressed underfoot, and now she was behind him.
"Lucky for me, the blade I gave this child was just a fruit knife," Davion spat, furious. "It's short—can't kill a man. A child can't have the strength to do real damage—" He tried to shove Mikasa away.
But she was a blur. She stepped back only a breath, then darted forward again—faster, angrier. Davion turned to catch her like a dog, and suddenly his body seemed to disconnect from his intent.
Blood sprayed like rain.
Eren lay on the floor, blood on his face. He watched the exhausted little figure and, somewhere from memory, he heard words that had been spoken to him long ago—words that suddenly made sense:
"Protecting the host? There's no such habit. It's not a mere habit—there's no hidden reason for her. She would kill even a Titan for you. She just loves you deeply."
Mikasa fell to her knees, shaking, the knife clattering free. The hall swam around her—boots pounding, people shouting, some weeping. The stunned silence that followed was heavy and total.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Hange rushed forward, checks and equipment flashing, followed by Keith and the new recruits. Soldiers swarmed to control the scene; some moved to help Davion, others to quiet the mob.
Erwin pushed through to Eren and Mikasa, breath ragged. He crouched, checking Eren's injuries, then looked up at the courtroom—at the king, at the president, at the Military Police Brigade, at Zeke's unreadable face—and felt something like a verdict settle in his chest.
Mikasa's chest heaved. Her eyes found Eren's. He looked back and, in that look, she heard everything she had never been able to say.
For him—because of him—she had done what no one thought possible.
And in that instant, the room knew: this was no ordinary child.