Time itself… dead still.
Jake blinked, breath caught in his throat. Did I just do that?
He hadn't planned it. There was no spell, no command. He just willed everything to stop—and it listened.
He floated down from his hiding place like it was natural. No wings, no fanfare. Barefoot, shirtless, black pants, nothing else. His feet touched the stone.
He turned off his invisibility without thinking how. Just another feeling—like reaching for a muscle he didn't know he had.
Across the room, Frieda's Titan twitched. She could move. He let her. Her glowing eyes locked on him—wide, afraid, confused.
Jake raised his voice, steady and calm. "Frieda."
She jerked slightly, Titan muscles tightening. "Who… who are you? What's happening?"
Jake didn't reply immediately. Instead, he stopped walking—still a few steps away from her massive Titan form—and raised a hand, palm open.
"Let me show you," he said, voice calm… almost too calm.
Frieda's Titan flinched.
The world around them shifted.
Not physically. Not visually. But spiritually. Emotionally. Reality bent.
And suddenly—
She saw it.
The scene played out in front of her, vivid and undeniable:
Grisha's Attack Titan slammed her down with savage force, pinning her like an insect. Her mouth opened to scream, but no sound escaped.
His jaws widened, glowing red eyes wild with desperation. And then—
Crunch.
Her neck snapped.
The light faded from her Titan's eyes as her body was torn from the nape.
Grisha rose—and turned.
Her siblings were trying to run.
Her youngest brother barely made it ten feet before a massive hand slammed down, crushing him against the stone. Blood sprayed. Her sister tripped, screaming her name—too late.
Grisha scooped her up with zero hesitation, like grabbing a doll—and bit her in half.
Then—
The vision snapped away.
They were back in the still-frozen cavern. Time remained paused. The dust still hung. Grisha's Titan still loomed, locked mid-lunge. Frieda's eyes—behind the Titan glow—were trembling. Wet. Wide.
Jake lowered his hand.
"You all die here," he said again, his voice harder now. "And not quickly."
He stepped forward—barefoot, calm, certain—and looked her directly in the eyes.
"But you don't have to."
The weight of what she saw pressed on her like gravity. Like the scream in her throat had nowhere to go.
"I can stop it," Jake continued. "I can silence the kings. Free your mind. But You have to follow me—not the chains. Me."
Frieda gasped softly. Her Titan eyes flickered—then glowed again, stronger this time. Not fear. Not confusion.
Resolve.
"I… I don't want them to die," she whispered, her real voice breaking through.
Jake extended a hand.
"Then take it," he said.
Frieda's Titan shivered. Her voice came from inside, muffled but desperate. "I… I can't stop it. I—he won't let me!"
Jake didn't answer at first. He just stared at her—through her—past the skin of the Titan, into the haze in her mind. He could feel it. That heavy, smothering fog. The weight of Karl Fritz's will pressing down on her soul like chains. Screaming voices, old memories, dead kings clinging to her spine like rot.
He stepped forward, barefoot on the cold stone, the world still frozen in that impossible silence.
No time moved. Not a breath. Not a flicker of flame. Even the dust in the air was stuck.
Jake moved slowly, climbing up Frieda's trembling Titan like it was a ruined statue. She didn't resist. She couldn't. Her eyes just followed him, wide and human behind the Titan's glow, desperate for something real.
He reached the top. Her nape was just below him. Grisha's Attack Titan was still frozen mid-lunge—jaws wide open, teeth inches from snapping her out of existence.
Jake looked straight at it.
Then he placed his hand on its face.
Not a punch. Not a blast. Just his bare hand, flat and calm against the Titan's snarling snout.
Time resumed.
The air exploded back into motion—Grisha's Titan roared, Frieda gasped, her family screamed. But nothing moved.
Grisha's Titan couldn't move.
Its jaws pressed forward—and stopped. Like it had hit a mountain. Like Jake's hand was made of unbreakable stone.
Everyone saw it. A man—young, shirtless, barefoot—standing on Frieda's Titan, holding back the Attack Titan with one hand like it was nothing.
Grisha's mind scrambled. What is this? Why—why can't I move? What the hell is he?!
Jake's eyes didn't flinch.
He gripped tighter.
With a sudden, wet rip, he tore the Attack Titan's head in half.
Bone cracked. Flesh split. Steam burst into the air as the top of Grisha's Titan was peeled apart like a toy. The sound echoed through the cave like thunder. Grisha was flung out of the nape, crashing onto the stone floor, coughing, bleeding, stunned.
Silence.
Frieda's family was frozen again—but not from time. Just raw, animal terror.
Her mother was crying. Her father was white as chalk. The youngest brother hid behind his sister, shaking violently.
Frieda's Titan didn't move, but her real eyes were locked on Jake. Open. Clear. Free.
She felt it—everything that had been clouding her head, whispering orders, choking her thoughts—gone. Just like that.
Jake jumped down from her Titan and landed beside Grisha's broken body. He didn't even look at him.
Instead, he turned slowly… and looked toward the far corner of the cave.
No one else saw it. But he did.
In the Paths—hovering beyond space, beyond time—Eren Yeager stood, eyes wide, breathing hard. Watching. From the outside. From the future.
Jake stared right at him.
Eren's face contorted with something between awe and dread.
Jake tilted his head just a little.
Like he was saying, I know you're there.
Eren backed away slowly into the glowing tree of memories, vanishing into the void. Shaken.
Jake looked back at Frieda.
She stared down at him—still in Titan form, but different now. The fear was still there, yes—but it wasn't just fear of death anymore.
It was fear of something bigger. Of him.
Jake stepped closer. No smile. No arrogance. Just cold certainty.
"You're mine now," he said.