The fires from the battlefield had been extinguished, but Ezura still smoldered under the weight of what had transpired. Eren returned to his quarters, shutting out the murmurs of soldiers and the silent glances of those who had seen the massacre unfold. As he crossed the dimly lit halls, the air felt heavier, oppressive, bearing down on him as though the walls themselves harbored doubts.

Once inside, he sank into a leather armchair, his gaze drifting to the bloodstained cloak he had yet to discard. There had been victories before this one, but something about the Son of Shadows' last words clung to him, resonating in the stillness.

"You chose power over justice."

Eren closed his eyes, dismissing the voice as easily as he had dismissed the man who spoke it. Justice was for the naive. And yet, even as he tried to push the thoughts aside, they lingered, scratching at the edges of his mind.

---

News of the battle spread swiftly through the city. Rumors twisted into whispers that filtered into even the safest corners of Ezura. The common people spoke of the Son of Shadows as a martyr, while others speculated that Eren's rule was now absolute. But there was a distinct undercurrent of unrest, a palpable tension simmering beneath the surface.

In the marketplace, hushed conversations skirted around the topic, but the fear in people's eyes had shifted. Where once they feared Eren's wrath, they now spoke of him with a kind of resigned trepidation, an unspoken question hanging in the air: Would this cycle of bloodshed ever end?

Renna intercepted a few of these rumors, and when she brought them to Eren, she did so cautiously.

"They're saying the Son of Shadows was a visionary," she said, her tone neutral, hiding any personal bias. "Some are beginning to idolize him, believe that he sacrificed himself to reveal the harshness of your rule."

Eren scoffed, though his jaw tightened. "Sacrifice? I gave them order, unity. What does one fool's death mean in the face of that?"

Renna held his gaze, her silence speaking volumes. She'd seen the effect of the Son's death in the people's eyes as well. "Sometimes... an idea is stronger than a ruler. The people want hope. Even a ghost can serve that purpose if they believe in it."

A flash of annoyance crossed Eren's face, but he forced it down. He had seen too much, fought too hard, to be troubled by the ideals of the weak-minded. But her words planted a seed of doubt. This "hope" they clung to—could it become something he couldn't control?

---

The next evening, a hooded stranger approached the outer gates of Eren's stronghold. They moved with purpose, a shrouded figure slipping between the shadows until one of the guards caught sight of them.

"Stop there!" the guard barked, brandishing a spear. The figure paused, slowly raising their hands.

"I bring a message for Eren Valen," the figure announced, their voice rough and low. "From those who seek the legacy of the Son of Shadows."

The guard exchanged a look with his companion, before leading the messenger inside, his weapon never leaving their side. In the heart of the stronghold, Eren awaited, watching with an expression as impassive as stone as the figure was brought before him.

The stranger knelt, a gesture of respect tinged with defiance. "My lord, we come not as enemies, but as believers," they said, voice barely above a whisper. "The Son of Shadows may be gone, but his followers still live. And we ask only one thing—your mercy."

Eren raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. "Mercy?" he repeated, a hint of a cold smile tugging at his lips. "After inciting rebellion against me, you expect mercy?"

"Not for ourselves, my lord," the stranger replied, head bowed. "But for those who have lost family, loved ones, and hope. We ask only that you refrain from further bloodshed. Let them grieve and honor his memory without fear of retribution."

Eren regarded the figure for a long moment. In their posture, he saw no fear, only the unyielding resolve of someone who had chosen their path long ago. Part of him wanted to crush this remaining ember of rebellion, to ensure that no one would dare challenge him again. But another part hesitated, recognizing the risks of stirring public outrage further.

Finally, he spoke, his voice as sharp as steel. "Leave my city untouched, and I will grant you your peace—for now. But remember this: the next time anyone speaks the Son of Shadows' name in defiance, I will not be so lenient."

The figure bowed low, murmuring their thanks before slipping out as quietly as they had arrived.

---

Despite his decision, Eren found himself restless in the following days. The thought of allowing even a sliver of resistance to survive gnawed at him. Power was fragile, he knew—one crack, and the entire structure could crumble.

Alaric, sensing his unease, approached him as he brooded in his chambers. "I could track down these followers, crush them if you want. This... mercy, it's not your usual style, Eren."

"It's not mercy," Eren replied curtly. "It's control."

Alaric gave him a knowing smirk. "Control, maybe. But you and I both know that this won't be the last we hear of them."

Eren met his gaze, something dark flashing in his eyes. "Then we'll be ready. If they dare rise again, I'll show them just how deep my control runs."

Alaric nodded, but a flicker of something almost like doubt crossed his face. He had seen Eren's empire grow, seen it conquer and destroy. But he had also seen how fragile control could be, even for someone as powerful as Eren.

---