The morning air was crisp, a bitter chill riding the mist as Eren slipped back through the eastern gate and headed toward the market. His eyes were weary, the adrenaline from the night's work lingering only as a faint hum in his veins. The memory of the council informant's fear still flickered in his mind, her face pale, her hands shaking as she clutched at the papers. For the first time, he felt the solid weight of his choices pressing against him.

But the sense of purpose still held firm.

Today, he was back to the daily routine—a deliberate move to avoid drawing suspicion. He walked through the marketplace, the sounds and smells filling his senses: the shouts of vendors, the earthy aroma of fresh herbs, the metallic scent of newly forged blades on display. His usual spot was open, a small corner stall shaded beneath the wide overhang of a bakery.

It didn't take long before a figure approached—one Eren recognized instantly. The man from the previous night, his face obscured beneath a thick hood, made his way toward Eren's stall, blending seamlessly with the crowd. His movements were casual, but his eyes were sharp as he scanned their surroundings.

When he reached Eren, he didn't look up, keeping his gaze fixed on the trinkets displayed on the stall.

"She left town," the man murmured, his tone almost conversational. "The message was received. I'm told she won't be coming back."

Eren feigned interest in a pendant, his fingers tracing its smooth edges. "And the council?"

The man let out a low, humorless chuckle. "They're shaken. The council's grip on this town is strong, but it's not invincible. Small cracks—like the one you made—have a way of spreading."

A sense of satisfaction rippled through Eren, tempered by caution. "What's next?"

The man finally looked at him, his eyes a shade too cold to be friendly. "You've earned a place among us, Eren. But understand, the path you've chosen has no easy exits. You wanted a way to fight back. This is it."

He felt the gravity of the man's words settle around him, like a net slowly tightening. This was more than a simple act of defiance—it was the beginning of something far darker and more dangerous. He was no longer an outsider watching from the shadows; he was now a part of the shadow itself.

"What's your name?" Eren asked quietly, watching the man with new intensity.

A brief pause hung between them before the man answered, his voice barely a whisper. "Niall."

---

Eren spent the next few days oscillating between his routine at the market and clandestine meetings with Alista and Niall's group. The rebellion was a loose network, a collection of people united by little more than a shared disdain for the council and a willingness to take risks. Each member had their own reasons, their own stories of betrayal, exploitation, or personal loss. Some were idealists, others merely opportunists hoping to carve out their own slice of power.

Eren found himself somewhere in between, no longer driven by dreams of heroism but not yet fully given over to the ruthless ambition that lurked at the edges of his mind. He kept his distance, watching and listening, slowly piecing together the threads of the organization.

He learned of the council's inner workings, its reliance on spies and informants, the corruption that threaded through every level of its hierarchy. And he saw, in the way Alista and Niall spoke of it, the shared understanding that direct confrontation was impossible. The council's influence was too ingrained, its power too absolute.

So, instead, they worked in the shadows, targeting weak points, dismantling the council's network piece by piece. It was a slow, grueling process, fraught with danger, but each small victory brought them closer to their goal. And with each act of defiance, Eren felt a part of his old self slipping away.

---

One evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, Alista pulled him aside after a meeting, her expression tense. They stood on a small hill overlooking the town, the distant lights twinkling like stars against the gathering darkness.

"There's something you need to know," she said quietly, her gaze fixed on the distant town. "Something about Niall."

Eren's brow furrowed. "What is it?"

She hesitated, her face unreadable. "He wasn't always... like this. Niall used to be part of the council, a high-ranking officer. He was one of their most trusted enforcers, their blade in the dark."

The revelation struck him like a blow, his mind racing to reconcile the man he knew with the image of a council enforcer. Niall, the man who had shown him the first true taste of rebellion, had once served the very power they were fighting against.

Alista continued, her voice low and steady. "He left them years ago, but the scars of that life run deep. He's ruthless, Eren. To him, this rebellion isn't just about freedom—it's a vendetta."

Eren looked at her, a question forming on his lips, but she silenced him with a look.

"Just be careful. Niall is many things, but forgiving isn't one of them. If he senses even a hint of disloyalty..." She didn't finish, but her meaning was clear.

Eren nodded, absorbing the weight of her words. Niall had guided him, yes, but that guidance came with a price. The path he was walking was one of blood and shadow, and now, more than ever, he had to watch every step.

---

As they parted ways, Eren felt the first cold stirrings of doubt. This rebellion, this fight against the council—it was no noble cause. It was a battlefield of shifting alliances, hidden motives, and ruthless ambition. Every ally was a potential enemy, every friendship a possible weakness.

He walked through the darkened streets alone, the night air heavy with the scent of damp earth and distant fires. His thoughts churned, a tangle of questions and uncertainties, but one thing remained clear: he was in too deep to turn back.

In Ezura, kindness was weakness, and trust was a liability. If he wanted to survive, he would have to become what the world demanded—a weapon, sharp and unyielding, honed for a single purpose.

And as the shadows closed around him, he realized he was ready for it.