COMRADES • Eren Jaeger

CHAPTER 34: Liberio

When you arrived, it was mostly deserted and the gate was locked. You tapped your foot impatiently on the paved ground, warming your hands by blowing your breath on them. And yet, no one seemed to notice you. Where were the guards?

The drizzle began to ascend into the rain and it would only be a matter of time until it would seep through the material of your coat and you'd be soaked to the bone. When puddles of slosh began to form on the ground, you decided that you had enough and cupped your hands on either side of your mouth.

"Hello?"

You cringed; the sound of your voice was raspy and you hadn't drank anything in a while. An old part of yourself scolded you for possibly waking someone inside the residential buildings up because it was rude, but you were mostly concerned about who might have seen or heard you instead.

"Hello?" you repeated.

You grumbled under your breath in annoyance and walked forward to hold the gates. They were like iron bars, trapping the innocent convicts that were better known as Eldians within the confines of its walls. Back then, when you had no memory, the sight of these high walls had given you the creeps and you couldn't understand why. But now you could.

No matter where you ran, no matter where you were actually considered welcome, the setting was always the same—you were just battle fodder and above all, a military slave.

You peered through the gates, blinking rain water from your eyes, to make out the square to Liberio. Yes, you could remember this nightmarish place very well. Even in the rain, it was very clear to you how drab the buildings were, how boring everything was.

If amazing inventions like cars or electricity didn't exist, you'd probably find this world of gray a very depressing place to live in. You knew that the place was probably under a budget, but honestly—was a cheerier shade of paint really that much more?

"Liberio," you muttered to yourself. "Where you can peacefully die a slow death." Then you hastily glanced around. Although it seemed like you were the only person in the vicinity, you still worried that someone might have heard you.

Finally you gave up and let go of the bars. For a brief moment you wondered if you'd have to do something ridiculous like climb the gate yourself. Scaling the walls would have taken less than a minute if you'd had omnidirectional mobility gear with you, but you didn't have a single weapon in sight.

Maybe you'd have to rough it out by spending the night in some public domain like a church or the gazebo in some park like a young crackpot. Normally you'd have pride, but right now you were just tired.

"Stop there!"

Someone was coming on the other side of the gate, and they were shining a flashlight in your face.

When his face came into view, you saw the Public Security Authority guard who had once apprehended you by these very gates a few years ago. What was his name again? Becker? Muller? It had to be the latter, because you'd never forget the gaze of the man who had punched you in the face. Apparently his friend was absent.

"You!" the guard—Muller, you remembered—thundered once he shone the light on your drenched face. "What the hell are you doing here?"

You lazily held a hand up in greeting.

"Hello," you said. "I was wondering when someone would show up."

"Why are you here, girl?"

"Hizuru sent me back early," you answered. "They say that Marley's gaining the upper hand in battle while they've over in Fort Slava, so I was given permission to return here."