From You, A World Away

It had not been a special seed.

"'Why?'"

The tree it grew into was not unique or special in any way.

"I should probably start at the beginning if you want to know 'why.'"

The house it became a part of was not remarkable when cut down.

"I was not a strong God, originally. I was a god of a small tribe, one not focused on destruction, war, the dead, or such glorious things. Compared to the Hindus, the Greeks, or other significant pantheons, I wasn't worth mentioning."

Like the rest of the wood and stone that made the house, it was thrown onto the pile of scraps when the construction collapsed.

"I was a craftsman. A god of Creation."

The hands of the carpenter that pulled that beam from the pile, those that fashioned it into a cross, and carried it toward the sight of crucifixion, though. Those were special.

"So I Created. I Created beings to aid me, as I had no other gods to work with. I Created tools to work with and a framework on which to build. That was the initial version of the System that Michael still maintains to this day. Of all my Creations, except my children, I am most proud of the System. It was the very first thing I ever built."

As was the blood that soaked into the wood and nails for those six hours.

"You should understand, right? The things we build that will outlast us are what define us."

The wood and metal were not born special, but they became something more by being placed in extraordinary circumstances.

"..Apologies. I know this is not your ideal solution, but you know how precarious this world's existence is as well as I do."

But unlike the cup that caught the blood or the spear that pierced the flesh, these were not collected by the Creator.

"Don't worry too much on time. I'll have faded long before you die. I'm just a memory of a dead God. An echo in a bit of blood-stained wood."

Humans, those faithful and not, held the wood and Nails for years, passing them from one heir to another as sacred relics. Holy items.

"Anyway, where was I? My System. With it in place, I used it to give me the one thing that would allow me and my people to survive in this world."

Yet the march of time is ever fickle.

"Knowledge. I wasn't originally a clairvoyant, but I created a tool that would alert me of danger and give me awareness of my domain. My first true Creation. 'Let there be Light' and all that."

The wood, the crucifix upon which blood had soaked, was lost at sea in one of the Mediterranean's flights of passion.

"...I had built it to grow with me as I gained more followers and power, but I never predicted the extent it would reach. Ah! That was a pun, wasn't it? I always enjoyed the power of a Word... Or at least, the 'me' that lived did. I'm his memory, so does that make 'me' him? Or am I a different 'me.'"

The Nails fared slightly better.

"I suppose it doesn't matter. We all play our parts."

One was claimed by the Supernatural, a devil killing the possessor and claiming it as a trophy, only to be killed in turn. A holy relic, particularly one as powerful as the Nail, had many uses for those who recognized its significance.

"It didn't work like yours, you know? I didn't see an 'end' and worked my way back. I started at the 'now' and worked my way forward. At some point, my power grew to the extent that I was looking centuries into the future... And I saw it. The future. And it was in humanity."

From hand to hand, the Nail passed through the world. Even as the faithful chased it, it remained out of their reach until the Creator stepped in to claim it back from a God of War.

"I... can't explain it to a human. Not in a way that makes sense. Gods are... purpose with power. We have desires and ambitions, but, at the end of the day, we cannot really change. An evil god might do good but will always be evil. A god of war might enjoy peace but will always prepare for the next war. I could no sooner stop Creating than a human could stop their heart."

This was mere days before the Great War's final climax, where the Creator would die with his foes after sacrificing most of His power to seal a Beast from beyond their world.

"Dragons are the opposite. Power without purpose. They do whatever they wish, irrespective of consequences... I really hate dragons. Just... the worst."

And so that Nail was lost, speculated to exist in some Sacred Gear that would forever remain unfinished.

"But humans? I saw them create things I had never dreamed of. I saw them accomplish acts no god would ever conceive of. It was... beautiful. I would watch them for centuries in futures that would never be. Their variations and permutations... I loved them instantly."

At least the faithful and those angelic children who had lost just lost their father and Creator retained the other Nail, now fashioned into an iron crown.

"Don't look at me like that. I am fully aware that humans could be as whimsical as any dragon, as cruel as any evil god. Perhaps I am the only being in this world to have witnessed more cruelty than you, even if I did not experience it as you did."

Only... they didn't.

"It was their potential I loved. The capacity to be. These, the weakest race, would dominate this planet with or without my intervention. But I intended to help. To protect them. Guide them. And I used my other Creations to help me."

At some point in the past, when the circumstances were just right, a thief had exchanged the genuine Crown of Lombardy with a fake due to simple greed.

"...I was not a good father. When I directed my children, my Creations, to act for the betterment of mortals, I did not explain myself to them. Why would I? They were my Creations. They, like me, could only fulfill their purposes... But some had purposes that conflicted with my order."

While transporting their ill-gotten goods, the thief would be waylayed by bandits and slain. The highwaymen, unaware of the significance of the Crown, tore the jewels from their casing for ease of sale. The important part, the iron, was broken and sold. Melted and turned to horseshoes.

"I cannot describe how it hurt when Lucifer betrayed me. You must have felt something similar once upon a time. That rage... That pain... It's blinding. And when he severed our connection when he took Lilith and created devils... It was adding insult to injury. Others fell, and every single one of them hurt... But you never forget your first betrayal. That wound never heals."

No matter how the powerful hunted and searched for centuries, no one would find the nails or the wood of the cross.

"...I won't go into the details of war I waged in my rage and pain. I won't tell you of the pain every day brought. I will just let you know that every single being that died in the Great War was my children or their descendants... Even the devils. I saw them as extensions of my son, just as he had once been an extension of me. I hated them. I still hate them. They, who came from me but turned from me, who was their source of life! ...Yet they were still my Creations."

But they still existed.

"But I continued to grow stronger. My Creations grew more powerful, and so did the reach of my sight. My visions were my refuge. I drowned myself in futures where there was peace even as I was soaked in the blood of my children."

Washing ashore amidst other debris, the two boards would be used to build another house. Then, when the building was torched and destroyed during a war, the oddly pristine pieces of wood would make the central frame of a carriage.

"Then, one day, I had an idea. A simple one based on idle curiosity. 'What if I die?'"

Time and time again, these two pieces of wood would wander the world from place to place. Unnoticed of any oddity, except for their durability. 

"Unlike your power, mine was based on my System. It would survive after I died. So, I looked into those futures. Most of them were what I expected. Chaos. Destruction. My angels slaughtered, and the world drowned in blood, sin, and vice."

The pieces of the blood-soaked wood would be separated and rejoined countless times. They were Damaged repeatedly, yet would always return to their natural state when none were the wiser.

"But, in a future where I took the Satans with me, I saw something else. Something I had believed impossible."

No harm remained on these planks for longer than a year.

"Devils acting as humans did. Loving. Growing. Creating."

Until that is, they were part of the lumber sent to a construction company in the early twenty-first century.

"In the futures I had seen before, ones where I won, I had slaughtered them all. A mercy, I had believed. For both themselves and the world."

The two planks of wood, which were always near each other, were judged to match the weight, length, and width needed for one of the ongoing projects. They were sent to join other planks in the pile before being placed on an assembly line.

"But outside the yoke of my son and his brood, they displayed the characteristic I so admired in humans. I hadn't thought it possible."

When the blood-soaked wood was sawed into boards this time, they would not regrow and regenerate ever again.

"That led to another question, one that terrified me."

For parts of the iron that bound it were also seeped in that same special blood.

"If devils could become like this, could others?"

The metal of the Iron Crown of Lombardy, having followed a similarly circuitous route, had also arrived in the form of iron bands and nails.

"...I watched my Fallen children drown in vice and sin, yet they were even quicker than the devils to move forward. Under Azazel, they unified. They worked with humans, creating wonders that matched even my greatest Creations. My angels, those who remained with me until the end, hurt the most, though."

It had passed from plow to scythe. From bullets to lids.

"Without me... They grew. Grew! Michael might not have my power or ability to Create, but he has become so much more than I ever Created him to be. They made peace! With devils and fallen! Even other factions!"

The metal that was once a blood-soaked nail came to the Land of Eight Million Gods on black ships.

"I... I couldn't make peace, not after the betrayals and the pain. Not when I hate them so much. But they could. They could end the Great War without complete genocide. I... I had never looked for a future like that. I hadn't even thought to."

When the weapon it was a part of was stolen and melted down, it moved through Japan's changing land until it, too, reached its final destination.

"I looked for other ways, of course. I quickly found that if I simply won and spared the defeated, my presence would prevent one side or the other from developing, and my faithful children would never grow... And I couldn't spare them. Not when just looking at them reminded me of the pain and anger."

Until it was reunited with that blood-soaked wood.

"So, I looked into faking my death. But so long as I existed, my System would remain bound to me, and that would act as a bastion for my children. A reassurance that would halt their own development. They'd wait for me, eternally, and never become what I knew they could be." 

Though undamaged, iron and wood had been marked through the passage of years. They were always in just the right place at just the right time to be affected by the occasional spell, the odd battle between gods, devils or angels. And that left them changed in a way nobody could see or sense.

"No. For the future I wanted, for my faithful, loyal, beloved children, God needed to die."

The bench they formed was in no way different from every other that rolled off the line that day.

"That still left me with the problem of other worlds, though. The Beast was just the first that would find us, but others would come eventually, and, for all my contemporaries' powers, they remained as set in their ways as ever. The moment something stronger than them appeared, it would be over."

It was not special.

"I knew mortals, with their ability to grow without limits, would be the solution, thus I created Sacred Gears... They'd hold out for a while, but none of the futures I saw reassured me for the long term. And in most cases, my children paid too much for me to accept. I constantly searched for the best future. The perfect future... I failed."

But, by proximity to those that were, by the manipulations of the greatest Creator in this world who had planned a future where wood and iron would meet in just such a way to cancel His power...

"So, I looked beyond my world for the solution."

...It would become special to the boy who found happiness on the simple bench of wood and iron.

********

"Divine intervention?" Armin asked doubtfully, arm pausing mid-throw. "Really?"

"That world is absolutely insane," Eren simply said, throwing his own stone into the waves that lapped on the shore of the Gremory's private island.

Six bounces, a respectable result against the lapping waves.

"I couldn't go a block without running into a god, a dragon, or something like it."

"With population numbers that high," Armin mused thoughtfully, launching his stone. Seven bounces. "I guess it would make sense that many cultures would have many gods. Do you know if the gods came first and created humans, or did humans create gods?"

"No idea," Eren admitted, bringing them to a new location. 

They wandered through the Underworld, devils living their lives in the light of a fake sun. This was Lilith before Eren attacked. 

He didn't know what it looked like now, four months later.

"They... look like us," Armin said with some wonder. "I suppose the old propaganda was right."

"They act like us, too. All of them. Humans... devils... all the rest... They're just as bad as each other."

"And just as good."

Eren didn't reply, just weaving through the streets beside his friend.

"So... Aliens?"

"Insane," Eren repeated with emphasis, trying to convey his exasperation. "One of the most common beings that invade from another world is a... breast goddess."

Armin stopped in place.

"You cannot be serious."

Eren let the world fade around them. Suddenly, they were floating in the Dimensional Gap.

In front of them was a... woman, though calling her such was a bit of a misnomer.

"Meet Chimune Chipaoti," Eren said blandly. "Also known as the Chichigami."

"Just..." Armin gaped. Disbelief? Awe? Horror? Fascination? "...Why?"

"Insane."

"There's insane, and there's... That!"

"It's Issei's fault," Eren said casually, and Armin looked at him in disbelief. Eren sighed and explained. "In a future where I do nothing... A coalition of powers seals Trihexa, but an alien machine god race invades the weakened world and wipes out the world. In that future, Issei Hyoudou, as the Red Dragon Emperor, will be one of the main defenders. He teams up with this one, an opposing faction to the invaders, but they fail in the end."

"How can you predict that?" Armin asked, still goggling at the... woman. "Isn't that Issei kid as protected as the others?"

"No. He was the exception. I met him in person before I met him on the bench. It was my past, his future, though... I never saw any of the others. Not once. I can only see things I was there for, even in other futures, so it's not like I saw everything. Even if I know where to look for them now, they are still holes in the tapestry, as is everything they do. But not Issei."

"And he's responsible for this?

"Issei is... a character," Eren tried to defend his junior. "A good heart, if nothing else. Honest to a fault. I trust him to protect the others till they're ready. But... yes. He's just as insane as the rest of that world."

They didn't dwell on the... breast goddess for long, and Eren brought Armin to see one of his favourite sights.

"Woah," Armin let out a sound of wonder as he gazed down at the planet Earth.

"I don't know if you guys ever got here," Eren said, taking in the view. "But humans in this world managed to land on their moon... By the end, I was strong enough to come here by myself."

"There are theories, and such," Armin said, not tearing his eyes from the blue and green sphere that dominated their vision. "Probably not for a few years, though. Even now, we are still focusing on rebuilding."

"...Sorry."

Armin didn't accept his apology but didn't reject it either.

They both knew the horrors of the Rumbling, and they both knew it had accomplished precisely what Eren had set out to do.

Eren wasn't sorry for his actions. 

Even now, even after all he'd been through and had time to confront everything he'd done.

Eren had time to come to terms, yet he'd do it all again. 

He regretted his actions, but he wasn't apologizing for them.

He was apologizing for leaving everything to Armin.

"Thank you for showing me this," Armin said instead. "There are plans for a satellite, but I wouldn't get to see it before I die."

Eren sombrely stared up at the planet.

"...I'm already dead, aren't I?"

"No. Not yet."

"Are you?"

"I will be soon. After this vision is done, I'll have only about a minute. It's why the White God cut himself off. He rambled too long. But..." Eren trailed off.

"You never make things easy, do you?" Armin said, collapsing onto the moon's dusty ground and reclining to look up at the spinning planet. "I'm long dead from your perspective, aren't I?"

"Yes. For centuries." Eren said bluntly, not looking at his friend. "You are talking to a memory of the future, and I am talking to a memory of the past. His Creation, the one in my neck, it is linking my new Path with the remnants of the old one."

"...We destroyed the Paths."

"We destroyed the Founder, the source of Ymir's Paths and the source of the Titans," Eren corrected, collapsing beside his friends. "But... where there was one, there might be more. Maybe in another few thousand years, there will be another Ymir."

They were both silent for a long moment.

"...That would be awful," Armin eventually sighed. "Everything we did, everything we went through, and no finality? It makes it all seem... pointless, doesn't it?"

"No," Eren denied.

They were no longer on the moon.

They were at the End of the World, staring at an impossibly vast Wall.

"We might never eradicate Titans, war, hatred, or violence, but you did have peace. Even if it was only for our fleeting lifetime, we proved it wasn't pointless." Eren shrugged, looking up at his Creation. "To us, at least. "

The two friends stared up at the crimson Wall that trapped an entire world, just as they had done as kids.

"Why'd you do it?" Armin asked.

"...I wasn't going to," Eren admitted. "I would have chosen a future that lasted as long as my life—probably one where I alerted the great powers and convinced them of the threat. Most of the time, they don't believe me, or something goes wrong, and the world is worse off, not better. But there were a few where things turned out decent enough when I died. After that..."

Eren shrugged as if to say, 'Who knew.'

"Even if that world was destroyed after I was gone, I thought it might be better off than doing this to it. All this does is buy a bit of time until something stronger finds it, or they drive themselves to extinction. The entire time, they'll be living in fear and shame. It's... a terrible fate."

"But you decided to do it anyway. Why?"

Eren pulled up his knees, crossing his arms and mumbling his answer into them.

"Sorry? Didn't catch that?"

"...I didn't want them to die..."

Armin stared at his friend, whose ears were turning red, and was looking away so as not to meet his eyes.

He laughed.

"Shut up!"

Eren's face burned, and he splashed sea water at Armin to get him to stop.

Armin laughed harder.

They were back there. 

On the beach. 

The one where they had first seen the ocean together.

When Eren dunked the last Commander of the Scouts in the surf, Armin retaliated, tripping the sage and knocking Eren down.

They wrestled for a bit, each trying to be the one to drive the other under.

Soaking, panting and covered in drying salt and sand, Eren eventually continued his explanation.

"Like I said, there were other futures. Ones where Trihexa wasn't released, or I got the Top Ten, Ophis, and Great Red to act as defenders. But none of them were as certain as this one. I couldn't know if any alliance would survive after I died. This way, anything that wants into this world has to get through one side of the Wall, then Trihexa, then the other."

"As does anyone who wants to get out," Armin, also panting, pointed out. "All you had to do to start the Rumbling was take control of the Wall Titans. They won't be able to. When you die, there will be no more Eldians who can inherit your Founder. Unless..." Armin squinted at his friend. "Tell me the truth. Is Mikasa pregnant? Or... that cat girl... Kuroka, right?"

Eren splashed his friend again, but it was half-hearted.

"No," Eren answered. "God explained that all he did was take the traces of the Founder to copy its abilities like his other Sacred Gears. Only, it's not part of his System. It's linked to me. My bloodline. If they were children, I'd have seen them on my Path."

"And no one else could be?" Armin asked, and when Eren glared at him, he held up his hands. "I'm just asking. It sounds like you had a lot of female company."

"Nobody is pregnant," Eren bit out. "And even if they were when I die, this new Founder will die with me without someone to transfer to through my Path. I will be the only Titan this world ever has."

"...Are you alright with that?"

"With being the only Titan? Yes. With not having kids? Of course, I'm not!" Eren snapped angrily. "Of course, I want to have kids, live with them, and have a future! Of course, I feel terrible at the thought of Mikasa and Kuroka moving on and finding other people to love! It sucks, and I hate it! A second life, a second chance, and I still hate it!"

"...Wow..." Armin stared at his fuming friend. "You're even more of a pathetic scumbag than I remember. You two timed them and now want them to what... 'be loyal to your memory for the rest of their life?' And they're practically immortal, right? Thousands of years alone? You're just the worst. Or will you say something like, 'Just mourn me for a century?' The worst."

Eren punched his friend in the cheek.

Hard.

Armin went down into the surf again, and Eren gave the man a kick to the ribs for good measure, though it was nowhere near as hard.

"That was for telling everyone what I said last time!"

Armin had the decency to look slightly ashamed and decided to change the subject back to safer territory quickly.

"Do you think it will ever fall?" Armin said, sitting up slightly. "Your Wall?"

"It will," Eren answered with a sigh, sitting beside him in the shallow water. "They have thousands of years to try. They'll get there, eventually."

"...I'd like to have met them."

"You'd have liked Sona," Eren nodded. "She reminds me of you. Rias... She's too much like me. She needs Sona to hold her back. Mikasa will help. She was always reliable and strong. Stronger than either of us. Together... I think together they can do it. Tear down the Wall."

"And if they succeed?" Armin asked, leaning back in the water, his fingers digging into the wet sand behind him as he enjoyed the warm sun. "What then? By then, they'll be stronger than you ever were and have access to all the worlds that might have destroyed them."

"...It's one of the reasons I didn't want to do it," Eren admitted. "Even in the best case, when someone tears down the Wall, kills Trihexa, and frees this world, they'll become another Elidia. Another Marley. Another World that invades more Worlds. Another me. It will be the Rumbling, only worse, across who knows how many Worlds."

"But you did it anyway."

"I did."

Eren's fingers dug into the watery sand beside him.

Then they were somewhere else, warm and dry, as they sat on a bench in a small park.

"I think... I think I understood you," Eren said softly. "At least a little bit."

Eren looked at his cupped hand.

"In our world... I didn't see any other choice. Not one that could get me everything. Kill the Titans, get my revenge, and give you a chance for a future. I am... too selfish to give up any of them," Eren admitted quietly. "But in this one, I had so many choices. Yet I chose to do it all again. Because I think... they can do it better. They can avoid our mistakes... My mistakes."

Eren held out his cupped hand to the boy who sat beside him on the bench, showing Armin the small sea shell he held.

"I still dream of the sea," Eren said softly, handing over the shell. "But... I've started to dream of what lies beyond the sea."

Armin stared at the small, familiar shell in his hands.

"I'm-" The old man in a young man's body swallowed as his voice cracked. "I'm glad. You're finally free."

Linked between past and present, across the bounds of Worlds, the two childhood friends sat together in that timeless moment on the bench.

"...What now?" Armin eventually asked.

"Now?" Eren said, closing his eyes. "Now I get to fix my last mistake. The only regret I wished to undo."

Eren looked over at his friend.

"Now we say goodbye."

Armin's throat swelled.

"I don't know how much of this you'll remember," Eren admitted, looking back towards the sky. "It might just be a dream to you. But... This is it. The end. We... won't see each other again."

"No!" Armin denied. "We promised."

"You're not going to hell, Armin," Eren said softly.

"I am!" Armin denied it again. "The people I killed, the things I did... We helped push you toward the Rumbling. We couldn't give you another way. We were as much to blame as you. We'll shoulder it together!"

"No. You won't."

Eren looked as regretful as he was incredibly relieved as he spoke, and Armin's tears finally started to fall.

"Our world doesn't work like the new one. The afterlife here is... automated, according to him. There are no gods here. What matters in this world isn't a judgment on what you do... It's about how you live and how you die. And you've lived long enough, good enough, that you aren't going to hell. You'll be joining Annie and the others that helped you."

Armin hated the relief he felt at his first friend's words.

He hated himself for not begging Eren to ask the God he met to take his soul with him.

"What about you?" Armin asked softly, voice thick with sadness. "I promised. You shouldn't be alone. Not after everything. I promised."

"I don't know," Eren shrugged, looking away and attempting to be cavalier. "I'm not really part of that world. Just a temporary invader. I'm not part of his System. I can't get to heaven, but I'm also not part of any other pantheon. I can't reincarnate in that world, and I can't even return here. I put a Wall between us. Nobody is strong enough to bring me back, except for maybe Great Red, but I had enough trouble getting that delinquent to work with me. He would have healed me already if he wanted to save me."

Eren trailed off, and his own voice started to shake.

"Maybe... If- Once the Wall is destroyed, my soul will find another world. Be reborn naturally. Maybe I'll see the others again when they find that world... I think I'd like that. Maybe next time, I'll get it right."

The pair lapsed into a moment of silence.

"...But that's not what you want."

"...No...I..."

Eren's hands started to shake, and his following words came out in a hoarse whisper.

"...I don't want to die."

Eren looked at Armin, and the tears flowed from both their eyes.

Armin pulled his friend into a hug and each held the other tightly.

"I'm not like Cao Cao and the others," Eren confessed guiltily, holding his brother with all his strength. "I... don't want to die and be remembered. I want to live. For the first time in... so long... I want to live."

Armin just held Eren tighter.

"I've died once already. I've lived two lifetimes. More than most get. I still have regrets but I've met you and Mikasa again... I've gotten luckier than a Devil like me deserves... This second life... It's been terrible... And wonderful... And I want more... I want a long, happy life..."

The two brothers just sat there, holding each other as they wept their final tears.

But even those tears ran dry.

"...It's why I used your Titan to help build the Wall," Eren eventually said, releasing Armin, rubbing his eyes and standing from the bench. "Even if we can't meet in hell... I wanted to do my best to fulfill our promise."

As he stood, Eren seemed to shrink, not in height, but in body.

He thinned, shifter marks deepening and skin splitting from the numerous open wounds that wept blood and steam.

As he leaned on his cane, Eren had once more become the Titan, the boy who had brought another World to its knees. 

The monster who had traumatized a generation, killed thousands, and trapped an entire world in a never-ending Wall.

The Eldian Devil who had killed eighty percent of his world to save the lives of a handful of people.

"...Thank you."

Armin stood as well, an old man once more. One who'd lived through the age of Titans, the Rumbling, The Battle of Heaven and Earth, and the decades that came after. 

The last surviving Titan Shifter and the man believed to be the hero who had slain the Attack Titan and kept the peace in the following years.

The Hero and Devil shared one last hug.

"And goodbye, Eren."

"Goodbye, Armin."

********

"Are you in a better mood? I cannot overstate how little I want this conversation to end. Once it does, we both die."

"...Just...Get on with it," Eren bit out, swallowing his annoyance. His every word sounded like it came from out of clenched teeth. "I'm... grateful... to get to say... goodbye... But that doesn't answer my questions. Why me? Why them? And what now?"

"...Do you still want to see it?" God asked as Eren regained control over himself.

Taking a deep breath, Eren answered with a resolute nod.

"Show me." They were still in the vision, but Eren leaned on his cane anyway. "I need to know what you did."

The memory of the dead God sighed.

"It's not that complicated," He said. "The hardest part was manipulating events in my world so the bench would come to be long after I died. Ensuring it was in place at certain events and times to get certain cuts and dings took decades of planning and vision. It was needed, though. My memory has been trapped in the blood on the wood while the Nail would nullify my powers trapping it... and my Creation in your spine while you were in contact."

"Show me."

"Fine."

As with Armin, Eren's world flowed around him.

The first sight they stopped at was near a... funeral home?

"I actually found your world about three or so years after you died," the dead God started to ramble again. "What we're watching is decades later, after I made the plan."

It looked high class, certainly the type of place for those with money or influence.

"Once I learned of the nature of your powers, I had the idea of resurrecting you to protect the world in my stead. But with the Founder dead and destroyed, you wouldn't be clairvoyant. You couldn't even use your Attack or Warhammer Titans without the Paths to build the bodies."

As they watched, a white bird flew down and turned into another version of the God that watched beside Eren.

"I had an answer for that. It was the easy part. One of the current Longinus, Innovate Clear, already does something similar. It is an idealized combination of Annihilation Maker and Dimension Lost. I didn't need anything that powerful, just something to mimic the Paths. A container of the power without the actual creature that joined Ymir."

"I don't care about how you did what you did," Eren grunted. "Just tell me what you did and why."

They watched as the God of the past, invisible to all the Eldians who worked at the establishment, wandered through the funeral home until he came to stand beside a large wooden coffin. It was one of many, though a nicer one.

"I care, though. I might be a memory, but I have my pride as a Creator."

Eren gave the memory a flat look as the God of the past waived his hand, and the nails that held the coffin together disappeared.

"... Why are you so impatient for this to end? You know what will happen."

"Because I need to be sure you have nothing else planned for them after I am gone. This is their world, not ours. They need to be free of futures they haven't lived yet."

A Nail appeared in the God's hands before it split into dozens of smaller nails, each piercing the coffin's wood where the mundane Nail had dissipated.

"I could lie to you, you know?"

"Why lie to a man about to die?" Eren said bluntly before gesturing to the funeral home around them. The memory had paused as the Nails entered the coffin. "What was that?"

"That was me making sure the Evil Pieces could bring back Mikasa," the God sighed. "That particular Nail, I enchanted to keep things fresh. Essentially freezing the coffin and its contents in time, not dissimilar to that dhampir's Gear, only much weaker. Holy Relics are some of my strongest materials, and I invested three of them into this plan. Both Nails and my Crusifix. Do you have any idea what I had planned as a Gear with those? One would be a Longinus, and the other could become the equivalent of one with the right Balance Breaker! They'd be really cool."

The image shifted again as the memory continued to ramble.

Eren's heart clenched as he beheld the familiar tree on the hill.

A small, old, worn tombstone was at its base. Though the lettering was faded weather and wear, Eren still recognized his own name.

Beside that small grave was a second tombstone. Fresher. Brand new.

The hole in front of it was open, as was the coffin.

The funeral preceded, and Eren could recognize an older Armin crying as the coffin was lowered into it.

A middle-aged man... Grisha... Mikasa's son... was speaking, but Eren didn't hear it.

Eren looked down at an older Mikasa as she was buried, wrapped in a red scarf and surrounded with countless flowers.

She looked... at peace.

The wrinkles around her face spoke of a long, happy life.

Eren knew he was looking at her past.

That in the future, they would meet once more.

The knowledge couldn't stop the pain at seeing the woman he loved be lowered into the Earth.

"...Do you want to say something?" The memory asked delicately, its rant on Sacred Gears done.

"No..." Eren said, stepping back. "We've already said what we needed to say to each other. She's still alive. She'll take care of them."

"Alright."

The scene started to fly by, time speeding up as figures came and went from the grave.

The tree on the hill was near a city now, Eren realized, in a park not unlike the one with the bench.

He saw Armin come by a day after the funeral, and Eren closed his eyes.

He'd already said goodbye to his brother.

Eventually, the scene returned to regular time a few weeks after the funeral.

It was a sunny but cold day when the white bird landed in front of the tree on the hill, turning back into the White God.

"It took a while for me to have a moment when nobody was nearby," the memory explained. "A local writer liked to come here at night to drink and contemplate story ideas. Believe it or not, she ended up writing an alternative history story centred on Historia's rise to power. One where everyone seemed to fall in love with her, and it was her rejection of him that drove 'Eren Yeager' to do what he did. While controversial, to say the least, it was very popular. Especially among those inclined to... tragic... romance... and... smut..."

The memory trailed off at Eren's completely unimpressed look.

The God of the past waived his hands, and the fresh grave opened, Mikasa's coffin rising before him.

"What did you do?" Eren asked as the Past God took out a note and tapped it onto the coffin.

One more wave of His hand, and it was gone, disappearing into nothing.

"Essentially just a very delayed teleportation," the memory said with an amused smile. "I sent it to the Underworld where, in a few centuries, Serafall Leviathan will build her mansion around where it will appear. The trick is to have it appear at just the right time so that I can take credit for her sister's birth. A perk of being clairvoyant, I'm sure you appreciate, is being able to claim, 'I planned this all along' even when I didn't do anything special. It was one of my favourite ways to mess with other gods."

"Why Serafall? Why Sona? They're devils," Eren pressed.

"...Would you have been able to connect with Angels like you do with devils?"

Eren didn't answer.

"When I started all this, I had no idea what my solution would be," the memory explained as they watched the Past God pull up another bundle from underground. "I just needed... something. Something that would protect my world and my children after I was gone. I searched dozens of Worlds before finding yours. When I saw what had happened in this one and how your powers work, I knew I had the key to a solution."

It was the remains of what had once been a small box, long ruined by time and the life underground.

"But I couldn't just bring you back. No, in every future, I do that, we end up fighting. We're just too incompatible. And if you have the Founder, you win. But I needed you to win, to find a solution I couldn't."

Inside the ratty box was a skull, all flesh and hair decomposed, leaving it the off-white of bone.

"So, I set you up to 'win' around when you could do the most good. When the Peace Treaty is signed and the Beast would be freed. But even then! All you do is the bare minimum. 'Save the world' for only as long as you are alive. So, I sent Mikasa to be reincarnated, trying to get you to care. And you spend your entire life with her, then die after bringing her to a new world. I cannot tell you how infuriating you are to try to work with. It's maddening."

Eren looked at his severed head as the memory ranted.

It looked just like every other skull.

No different from everyone he'd killed.

"So, I had to set things up in a way where you'd come to care about my world. Where you'd want to protect it, even after I died. And here is where I faced the problem with your power. You cannot connect with people, or truly come to care for them while you have the Founder. But without it, you are useless to me. So, I had to create the bench. A temporary reprieve from your powers."

The God of the past picked up the skull, placing a glowing white bone right where the spine was severed.

"Everything after that was just... optimization. Ensuring certain people were in certain places at certain times. It kind of all fell into place, honestly. You did most of the work on the actual solution. I was honestly impressed. All I did was choose the time and place, and you chose the future."

As the spine glowed, the Past God's hands glowed to match it.

Eren's skull warped and twisted, bone flowing and shrinking.

In seconds, the deity was holding a sleeping baby.

"Why the nineteen years?" Eren asked as he watched his past version disappear like the coffin before him. Another delayed teleportation. "If I had more time, I might have come up with something better."

"To be honest, I have no clue."

At Eren's look, the memory shrugged.

"Like you, I see things happen, but I don't always know why they happen. If I was omniscient, I wouldn't be fighting in a Great War for centuries, would I? It could be some remnant of the Curse of Ymir or your own version. A 'Curse of Eren' that prevents you from living longer than your original life. It could be the power just burns through you, and you die. It's not a Sacred Gear and not part of my System, so there will be no one after you to compare it to."

Eren accepted the answer, even if it didn't make him happy.

Still, at least there wouldn't be more people who'd received the cursed power of the Founder after him.

That had been one of his greatest fears once he started to believe the God of the Bible was behind his presence in this world.

The God of the Past looked out over the graves one more time, making sure they were exactly as they had been when he arrived before disappearing as dawn's light started to peak over the horizon.

"Is that why the Evil Pieces didn't work? Because it's not a Sacred Gear?"

"No. It's your body itself. Evil Pieces cannot work on my Angels, not without them Falling. You aren't an angel, so you cannot fall, but I still made your body directly, unlike Mikasa's. You cannot become a devil."

Eren couldn't deny the conflicted emotions that brought.

He still wanted to live, but... Even if he could stomach being brought back by Mikasa, Kuroka, or Rias, he thought a part of him would always resent them for it. For being his 'King.'

It was probably better this way.

"Do you have anything else planned after this?" Eren asked. "With them?"

"There are a few other, vague plans that will pay off in the coming years, like letting my faithful have children easier now that they are at peace and don't have the Brave Saints to rely on, but that isn't what you want to know," the memory sighed.

"No. I don't."

"I had to spend so much effort making sure all the lines met up simultaneously during your life that planning something intricate after that is just... I didn't have time for it before the Beast arrived, and I needed to end things with my son. I don't envy your power, but I do admire its convenience. This meeting is the product of centuries of work and countless attempts. So no, I have no great plans for your friends or lovers. They will live on, at least beyond where my visions stopped, without my interference."

"Good."

The pair stood there on that hill with the tree, watching the sunrise over a land without walls for a long minute.

"I could take your confession if you'd like."

Eren snorted.

"No. You can't. I do not repent. I regret. But I'll stand by my actions, my choices, to the very end. They were not the right ones, but they were mine."

"That's probably for the best. You couldn't get into heaven anyway. The amount of atonement you'd have to do... Let's just say that your Wall will fall long before you'd finish. Still, the option is there for anyone to take."

"You're just trying to delay the end."

"...I am. Once this memory fades... There'll be nothing left of me. God will truly be gone."

"There needs to be an end. To all things. Good... and bad."

"My world... It will need to stand on its own, and I won't be there to guide and protect it."

"...That's what it means to be free."

The pair were silent again.

God took a deep breath of the morning air.

"Goodbye, Eren Yeager. If we ever met, we'd hate each other. But... Thank you for saving my home."

The memory held out a hand for Eren.

Eren shook it.

"I don't like you, but... Thank you for the opportunity to see them again. To say goodbye. For this second life."

"You're welco- What?" Eren's fist tightened around the memories, and his face distorted as he looked behind him. "What are you looking at?"

Even when the memory looked around, he couldn't see a reason for Eren to look like that.

"You didn't do this?"

"Do what?"

"...No..." Eren said in realization. 

He let go of the memory's hand and stepped beyond the dead God, staring out toward the horizon. 

"This might be your memory, but... The Paths were always ours alone."

They were... everywhere.

Every inch of ground was occupied, as was every branch of every tree. They covered the buildings in the distance. They hung from walls and windows.

A sea of green, grey, and black that covered the horizon.

And they were all looking at him.

Eren knew them all. Knew them because he'd been there, looking through their eyes for their entire lives. He'd felt their pain. He'd inflicted it.

But... It was those closest to the tree on the hill that had his eyes captured.

Floch was off to the side with the other Yeagerists like Sam, Daz, and Louise.

Falco and Gabi were with their friends and family while Marcel and Porco hovered nearby, side by side.

Zeke was even further away, standing beside an older man in glasses as an old couple looked on.

Further back yet were Grisha, Dina and... Carla... Mom.

Shadis stood next to Erwin, severe looks on faces gazing up at him.

Nearby, Hange stood in front of Moblit and beside them, Captain Levi stood among Gunther, Oluo, Eld and Petra.

Bertolt, Reiner and Annie were also near the front, while Jean and Thomas waited not too far away.

Closer still, Connie and Sasha gazed up at Eren, their eyes not showing their usual exuberance.

Near the foot of the hill, Ymir looked reluctant to be there but was enduring it for Historia, who stood, arm in arm, with her.

And, in front of everyone else, Armin gazed up at Eren.

For close to a minute, they just... looked at each other in the silence of the dawn.

No words needed to be said.

Eren knew that they knew.

Knew of his time in the Paths. Of what he had done, why he had done it, and what it had cost.

Knew of his time in the new world, of his refusal to repent and his conviction to stand by his actions to the very end.

Between past, present, and future...

Across the boundary of two worlds...

They were all connected through broken Paths.

And, as one, they turned their backs on Eren.

They could not forgive him.

Eren had betrayed them all for his selfish desires.

He'd killed them.

He'd thrown away the humanity they'd fought for.

He'd thrown away the Yeagerists and Eldia just so his friends could be heroes.

He'd killed so many of them and countless more.

They all turned from Eren, from his comrades, to his friends, to his parents.

Except for two.

Historia, the worst girl in the world, looked up at the boy on the hill with the same smile as ever, even as Ymir turned from him.

Armin stood straight, eyes not leaving Eren's until the very end.

Eren stood before the tree on the hill and faced a sea of turned backs and two faces.

Armin Artlet, the last Commander of the Survey Corps, raised his hands...

...And spoke in the silence of the dawn.

"Shinzou wo Sasageyo!"

Millions of fists clenched over millions of hearts.

SHINZOU WO SASAGEYO!!

Their voice shook the world with the familiar words carved into Eren's heart since he was a boy.

They, who could not forgive the Devil, could understand Eren Yeager.

The boy who had accomplished their long-held dream of ridding the world of the terror of the Titans.

They had dedicated their hearts to a future.

Even if they could not accept Eren or forgive him for betraying that hope...

A single fist rose over a heart that was soon to stop beating.

From one heart to another...

Eren's voice was thick as he looked out over the memories of people he would never meet again.

"Sinzou wo..."

Eren Yeager had, one last time, dedicated his heart.

"...Sasageyo!!"

********

He was back on the bench.

The memory of the dead God had faded, slowly taking with it the ability to stop his power from passing to his past self.

According to the memory, he barely had a minute before someone would be here.

That was fine.

He'd had nineteen years more than he ever deserved.

Eren... still didn't want to die.

He wanted to live.

But... wanting to live...

That desire was something he'd lost when he'd come to accept the inevitability of the future that night with Mikasa in Marley.

To have it back, with everything else...

It was a gift he hadn't expected.

Eren wished he could give Rias her answer in person, but...

She'd just have to take his smile as the answer.

He wished he could see them all one more time, really.

Would Kuroka and Shirone reconcile?

Would Yuuto open his bakery?

Would Issei get his harem?

...Would Akeno come to forgive herself?

...Would Rias tear down his Wall?

...Would Sona teach the world of him? Of his reasons and mistakes so that they did not repeat?

...Would Mikasa move on again? Find someone else that could make her happy?

...Would Kuroka find someone who could give her the kittens she always wanted?

Eren wanted to see it all. Wanted to be there with them.

He wanted to see Issei and Asia married.

He wanted to be there when Koneko accepted her sister back.

He wanted to be there for the grand opening of Isaiah's Bakery.

He wanted to hear Akeno tease everyone again.

He wanted to finish that manga with Rias.

Eren wanted to finish learning Japanese with Sona, which was the only thing he'd learned without using the Paths to cheat.

He wanted to hold Kuroka.

He wanted to wrap Mikasa in that scarf one more time.

But, what Eren wanted... It wasn't what mattered.

What mattered were actions.

He could sense Sona now, in the school only a few hundred meters away.

He could sense the panic and confusion around him as the world was brutally confronted with the truth of their new reality.

Eren wished he could have come up with a better solution. There'd be wars. There's be panic, and fear, and shame, and trauma.

Eren knew he might have created another 'Eren Yeager' today. Another monster who would do whatever it took to be free.

But... He believed he hadn't.

He wasn't smiling because he wanted to die or because he had no regrets. He'd always have regrets. The blood at his feet would never drain. It could only grow.

No, that was not why he was smiling.

Eren Yeager was smiling because he had been freed.

Freed of a future that shackled him.

Freed of the certainty that things would always turn out in the worst way.

Freed of the duty to drown the world in blood just so those he loved could have a long, happy life.

War. Violence. 

They would never disappear.

War followed peace, and peace followed war.

But... For the first time in his life... Eren Yeager was free to believe in others. 

That they'd achieve his dreams, even without him and without making his mistakes.

They'd pick up the heart he dedicated.

The bench's power waned enough and suddenly, Eren was back in the familiar blue and white Path.

He didn't do anything, just resting as his body tried vainly to mend itself.

The pain could not wipe the small, content smile from his face.

It was not a smile of joy as he had when he flew.

It was not a smile of love as when he was with those he came to care about.

It was a smile of relief. Of hope. Of contentment and fulfilled dreams that had not happened yet.

And it was the most hateful and beautiful thing the six-year-old boy beside him on the bench would ever see.

"This bench is the meeting place."

"Who am I meeting?"

A dead god. A lost kitten. A vengeance-driven young man. An honest pervert. A girl who hates herself. A Japanophile longing for freedom. A girl dedicating herself to her dream. Kuroka. Mikasa.

But Eren did not tell the boy anything about that.

To tell him would be to ruin it.

"Where is this? When is this?"

"Thirteen years in the future."

Thirteen years. Eleven years of hell. 

Half a year of resolution. 

A year and a half of relief. Of growing hope. Of friends found, words spoken, and comfort given.

"Why are you smiling?"

Because he was relieved.

Because he got to wrap that scarf around Mikasa's neck one more time.

Because he got to say goodbye to Armin.

Because the Wall would eventually fall.

Because Eren was happy.

"Can you do it again?"

Can you face it all again? The pain. The fear. The heartbreak. Can you live eleven years that stretch for eternity while confronting your actions?

"Why would I? I do not know why or how I was reborn in this world. My friends are not here. Historia is not here. Armin is not here. Mikasa is not here. There are no Titans, no Marley. No walls."

"Can you do it again?"

Can you step forward one last time in this mad, cruel world if it means finding this bench and the beauty it can bring you?

"I can."

"Then you'll know why I'm smiling."

Because this was still a cruel world, happiness only came to those who'd fight for it.

Unless you push through the pain and loss and betrayal, you could never have the ending you wished.

But if you did fight for it... You can seize that happiness with your own hands.

"I suppose I will."

"Remember, you only have thirteen years."

Don't waste it. Don't let the pain hold you back.

Take what time you have, short as it may be, and move forward.

Though you are choked with regret, drowning in guilt, and moving toward further cruelties, continue to put one foot in front of the other.

Until you are happy.

Until you are free.

"Then I should get started," the six-year-old Eren said, standing from his seat.

In his eyes, the trees disappeared with the azure sky as his feet met the sand.

All that remained were the dunes of The Path, the countless stars above and the bench.

And a six-year-old Eren saw it all.

The Path.

The Enemy.

The Walls.

And the cost of it all.

"I see," a young Eren said, eyes gazing at the future he would build.

"Not yet," Eren corrected with a long, weary sigh of relief.

The boy saw the Path but not who'd push him forward.

The boy saw the Enemy, a world that preyed upon itself in an endless cycle, but not those who lived in it.

The boy saw the Walls, but not those he'd trust to tear them down.

The boy saw the cost of it all, but...

He didn't see the tree Vali would put him through for disappearing for a year.

He didn't see the hammocks behind the bench where Issei and Asia would cuddle.

He didn't see the minifridge under the bench, which held Yuuto's baking attempts and Akeno's meals that Koneko would steal.

He didn't see the box containing Rias' blanket, manga, or his Japanese homework that would forever go unfinished.

He didn't see the retracted covering Sona had installed to protect the bench from the elements.

He didn't see all the moments he and Kuroka would share on this bench, enough that even without the Path, their combined power and union would push her to her seventh tail on their last day together.

He didn't see the white flowers Mikasa had planted blooming in the warm spring air.

The boy could not see a reason to smile.

"But you will."

...

Returned from the End of the World, with Sona rushing to join them, they'd reach him only a few seconds later.

Like he'd always known it would be, he had died alone on the bench.

Battered. Broken. With blood and steam no longer pouring out of him as he leaned heavily back on the bench, he stared up at an azure sky he could no longer see.

With a familiar cane in his hand, Eren Yeager had died with a small, content smile.