Chapter Text
Dust circles through the stagnant air as Eren walks past it, twisting in misty swirls through the sunbeams filtering in through the busted windows. Mikasa and Jean rustle through the abandoned warehouse a bit a ways away from him, checking through closets and scavenging for any useful items. So far, they’ve only managed to scrounge up a few items like a sturdy screwdriver and a package of stale chips, but they keep going. There has to be something more in here — something the others before them missed. It’s been a few years since the outbreak, and though looters and survivors have picked over the obvious choices, there are still a few spots that could contain gold. They just have to hold out for that. Maybe good luck will come their way. His stomach grumbles at the thought. It’s been a few days since he’s had a proper meal.
Shiganshina was densely packed, and the food to sustain them, scarce. Whatever they could scrounge up and bring back could make a world of a difference.
Eren sighs as he overturns another piece of scrap metal with the end of a stick he picked up, wary of snakes and other critters that might jump out upon their home being disturbed. It’s not the worst thing he’s worried about getting bit by, to be honest, but they don’t have the medical supplies to combat venom… or even a simple infection, really. An abandoned place like this is sure to be teaming with mother nature’s refugees.
He supposes it’s poetic, in a way. When humanity succumbed to the cordyceps and became one with nature again, the rest of her was allowed to thrive in humanity's destructive wake.
Underneath the sheet metal is nothing but another stash of some plastic junk, wriggling insects, and vines. Garbage. Eren scoffs and picks up a rusting shank of metal as he scratches the back of his neck. It gleams in the sunlight and he stashes it in his pack just for the sake of it. They really should get going. This place is obviously sparse as it is. Probably a factory of some sort that contains nothing of real use in this age.
Besides, the place has an eerie feel to it. Eren can’t quite put his finger on it, but it’s like the shadows are watching him. Invisible eyes perpetually scrutinize every one of his movements. Just to make sure, Eren glances behind himself, a retort for Jean ready on his tongue, only to find nothing. The long hallway, cloaked in shadows and overgrown foliage, is all there is to see. He swallows hard and shakes his head. Nervous sweat beads at his temples.
For a moment, he considers calling out for his friends, just to reassure himself that all is fine, but thinks better of it. No doubt, Jean will take the chance to tease him for weeks about getting spooked. That asshole leapt at any chance he could get to pick at Eren and his hot temper. They already bickered the whole way here. A moment of reprieve will do them both good.
With a huff, Eren turns back around and continues to pick sullenly through the rubble, already knowing he will find nothing. It’s a waste of daylight. He could be doing so many different things right now! Much more beneficial than looking through absolute junk. Their people are running low. Times are hard, like they are for everyone. Every second outside the safe zone is precious.
And dangerous.
Something rustles behind him and the very hairs on Eren’s neck stand up. There is something here with him. His hand flies up to grip the handle of his baseball bat, readying for a fight. Whirling around, he’s once again — frustratingly? — met with… nothing. Breathing hard, he shakes his head, and tries to calm the tremble in his hands. It was probably just a rat. Nothing more. Taking a half-step back, eyes still trained on the hallway, Eren waits a few more seconds, silent, just listening. After a long while of silence, and feeling quite silly, he hesitantly turns back around and continues on.
At this point, he’s almost done with this section of the warehouse. And what does he have to show for it? Nothing!
It was Mikasa who got the screwdriver and that jerk Jean who gloatingly snatched up the bag of chips. No doubt, he won’t let either of them hear the end of it that he was the one to find food for their people. Here Eren is, the only one left empty handed and embarrassed.
Eren grumbles to himself. It was just a measly bag of chips; barely enough to feed one person. Jean should get off his high horse.
On the far end of the floor is a dilapidated door. Through the sagging edge, Eren spies the lush green of the forest. A thought pops into his head. He’s a decent forager. That’s at least a whole lot easier than picking over the leftovers of others. Nature always replenishes.
A boost of motivation in his veins, Eren trots open to the door and tests his weight against it. Combined with his trusty stick wrenched in the frame and a few hard shoves, he manages to squeeze it open enough to slip through, though his stick splinters in half in the process. The dirt is packed up on the other side of the base, but at least the recent rain has softened the ground enough to allow it some give. Once outside the warehouse, Eren closes his eyes and breathes in a deep breath of the fresh, crisp air. It fills his lungs pleasantly, a hint of fresh growth and morning dew still heavy in its scent. Far better than the smoke-clogged, stale air of their home.
The forest beckons him in and Eren eagerly heads for it, adjusting the straps on his backpack and leaving behind the nasty feeling of the warehouse. In the distance, Eren can hear the bickering voices of Jean and Mikasa, far off in another wing. It’s not that hard to hear the lull of their voices over the silent field, given the walls are coming down around them anyway so they might as well be in the open field with him. Satisfied that his friends are safe, Eren smiles softly and disappears into the cool expanse underneath the canopy. He walks in for a while before coming into a clearing. His boots sink into the soft dirt, the whole clearing covered in thick moss and shadows. It’s quite peaceful and beautiful. It’s times like these where Eren thanks his luck that he got chosen as a supply runner. Not everyone in their group gets the opportunity to see the outside world and all it has to offer.
Eren’s never been one to be satisfied with walls. Their settlement was drab and starting to become cramped and overcrowded. Hardly anything grew in the trodden mud there and the barren scape was always gray and lifeless, even with all the people meandering around in the muck.
It’s nice to find some peace and quiet: alone.
He heads for some underbrush, hoping for some sort of berry or root to bring back. Settling into a crouch, he gets to work searching. He hums as he works, scoring a few stray fruits that are barely the size of his pinky nail, but it’s better than nothing. If he keeps at it, he’ll have a handful by the time they need to head back.
An insect whines in his ear and he absentmindedly swats at it. His brow begins to sweat again and his skin crawls. Eren shakes and brushes himself off. Probably a bug or something making his skin freak out. He carries on for a few more moments before he can’t ignore it anymore. The unmistakable sound of rustling leaves has him shooting up and around, wildly scanning his surroundings.
It’s official this time. Something is out here with him. There’s no wind to disturb the branches. He just has to pray it’s a harmless animal passing through. He’d be lucky if it was a bobcat or something like that. Anything other than one of the infected.
Eren snatches his bat from his pack, getting into a defensive stance. His eyes dart nervously around, but it’s so dim in the forest, every shadow seems alive. Any one of them could be hiding some sinister creature. Breaths wheeze out past his lips and his tongue darts out to wet them. Soft scampering comes from seemingly everywhere. Eren can’t pin it down.
“Mikasa?” His voice croaks out, wobbling. It sounds so weak and quiet in the densely packed undergrowth.
“Jean?” He tries again. Surely, this must be Jean messing with him. Eren wouldn’t put it past him. He readjusts his grip on the bat, shifting his feet nervously.
Then, he feels it — the deep settled instinct to turn. His instincts scream danger. In a flash, he’s spun around and narrowly misses the blur that leaps for him from the brush. With a choked off shriek, Eren throws himself back and away from the chittering creature that quickly regains itself and faces him.
It’s one of them.
It’s right eye has succumbed to the fungus — the cordyceps bursting through the socket and climbing upwards in a stalk. What one eye that does remain burns an intelligent silver, its hair midnight black and nearly blending in with the darkness of the forest around it.
With a sharp, delighted snap of its teeth, it darts off into the bushes again before he can get a better look, disappearing. Chest heaving, Eren stumbles back a few steps, bat held out in the direction the stalker last stood.
“Mikasa!” He yells, stumbling over roots as he tries to walk backwards. “Mikasa! Help!”
He doesn’t have time to be embarrassed over how frantic and scared his voice is, because he is damnit! A runner he could deal with, but this — this fucking thing — is a stalker. It’s far smarter. It’s been tracking him; Eren now realizes this. It’s been waiting in the shadows, biding its time before it finally decided to strike. Eren knows what that means.
It means he’s good prey. The stalker has decided he’s a worthy target and will now pursue. That’s never a good deduction. When a stalker attacks, it's already too late.
Quick footsteps from his left has his heart fluttering with hope before it’s crushed right in his chest. It’s not Mikasa who bursts through the trees, nor Jean. The stalker, seemingly silently darting through the undergrowth, comes out of nowhere and makes for another attack. Eren swings and misses as the damn thing quickly evades him with quick, erratic motions.
“Mikasa!” Eren shrieks again, panic rising in his throat as the stalker keeps advancing. It doesn’t dart back for the undergrowth this time. It remains in the clearing, circling him, snapping at him and lunging before drawing back to circle some more. “Help! Help me! Jean? Mikasa?”
The stalker leaps at him and Eren desperately swats at it with his bat, trying to fend off the attacks. At first, Eren feels hope that it might be intimidated by his weapon and his screaming — that he might be able to hold it off long enough for help to come — but that too, quickly fizzles out. Because very soon, he realizes what’s happening.
It’s only toying with him. It’s biding its time and strategically tiring him out.
The stalker never quite makes full attempts for him. It jumps into his range and then immediately backs away, chittering and clicking with delight. Its single remaining eye flashes in the darkness, eager and excited.
That’s when Eren starts to panic.
Screaming and crying, hopelessly trying to fight off a predator that has locked in, Eren feels himself tiring. After so long without food, his strength wanes fast. His breathing labors and he can barely swing before the creature is lunging for him again. Despite this — despite staring death in the face and hearing its eager clicks — Eren fights. He struggles desperately to remain alive long enough for Mikasa and Jean to come crashing through the undergrowth and save him.
In the off-distance, he hears them. They’re calling back to him. Shouts of, “Eren!” and “Where are you?”’s.
“Help! I’m here!” He tries to scream again. His throat feels dry like sandpaper and his voice wavers. It’s like screaming in a dream, only so much worse. It sounds weak even to his own ears. Can they even hear him?
Eren should have never gone into the forest. How are they going to find him in time?
While he’s preoccupied, the creature attempts to go for his left side and Eren awkwardly swings, taken both off guard and struggling with the reaction time on his non-dominant side, limbs beginning to feel slower and useless. All it will take is one slow swing for the stalker to get a window to kill him. He can’t give up.
He backs up, desperately trying to keep distance between him and the infected.
Slowly, he’s driven further into the woods, the stalker toying with him the whole way, purposely drawing out its attack to tire him out.
“Mikasa!” He sobs. “Please!”
In that moment, his screams resemble a dying animal. It’s what he is, honestly. Deep down, he knows he’s not surviving this. Help won’t make it; not this time.
Finally, after what feels like an agonizing eternity of fear and hopelessness, Eren’s foot rolls over a loose rock on the forest floor, hidden by a thick blanket of moss. It is this that is his downfall. That split second of surprise that Eren is left off balance, the stalker takes its opening with glee, lunging one last time and sinking its teeth straight into Eren’s throat; the full weight of the stalker slams into him. The thin, delicate skin tears in a fatal bite as unforgiving jaws clamp around the flesh. The front of Eren’s shirt feels hot and wet and he can’t seem to get air in. Choking and gurgling on his own blood, Eren falls back onto the soft bed of moss, the stalker still on top of him. His whole mouth tastes like copper and his lungs burn.
The monster, despite being smaller than him, is inexplicably strong and easily keeps Eren’s thrashing, struggling body pinned beneath him. The infection burns as it surges in his veins. Every minute detail is felt tenfold as absolute terror takes over his brain. He swears he can feel every branch of the growing fungus as it courses through his body and takes root inside. The infection goes straight to his heart, brain, and bloodstream through the vulnerable neck wound. Even as he feels his rapid heartbeat slowing; even when he knows this is the end for him, Eren still struggles. He still fights back. His pitiful attempts to throw the infected off of him only result in him weakly kicking out and messing up the moss and leaf litter beneath them. His fingers fumble and clench on handfuls of soil, body twitching.
Slowly, what little remains of Eren’s strength gives out as the fungus takes root in his body and his limbs slowly still. His heart slows to a weak thump from the blood loss. The silence of the clearing is deafening. Together, man and infected lay chest to chest, waiting.
Seeming satisfied, the stalker releases the bite, pulling back enough to open its mouth and reveal the white searching feelers of the fungus growing from its mouth. Each tendril is fuzzy with hundreds of fine hairs of roots. Eren wants to scream and finds he cannot, frozen in place and oh so tired. The infected leans forward and licks a hot stripe up Eren’s lips, collecting some of the blood pooling down the sides of Eren's mouth, the delicate feelers tickling his skin, before it seals them together in a morbid kiss.
The tendrils feel around inside his mouth for a moment, searching amongst the warmth. To his growing horror, Eren feels the fast growing fungus making its way up his throat and out to greet them. Eren shrieks raspily, one last wrecked sound bubbling up from his torn throat before the tendrils connect and everything jolts into place.
It’s like being struck by lightning.
In an instant, they are linked together — becoming one. One mind, one being, one goal. Eren’s body jerks feebly, then falls still, recognizing the stalker — no, that’s not it, Levi — as his maker.
His pupils blow wide as he stares blankly up at the tree’s canopy, and suddenly, even the drab darkness of the forest seems too bright. His mind links with Levi’s and instantly, the man's mind seeps into Eren’s psyche, and Eren’s into his.
Levi.
Eren whimpers as his mind blurs with the stalker’s. His blank, dead eyes can’t seem to blink; they burn but it’s almost as if he can’t feel the pain.
All he feels is giddy satisfaction, though he knows it is not his own.
Another. They’ve made another. They’ve spread. This is good!
Levi’s twisted, jumbled thoughts spill into his, entering his brain and ringing like an echoing bell.
The pure hopelessness that flooded him before is chased out by the fungus’ constant underlying orders to spread. Make more. Just like Levi did.
If Eren can hear Levi’s thoughts, then surely the stalker feels the utter devastation that eats away at Eren’s chest as he realizes that it’s all over. This is it. Eren’s bitten and infected. Mikasa and Jean won’t be saving him.
A small tear leaks from the corner of one eye, but he can’t even blink at the moment — can’t process the signal in his overdrive mind to do that. His brain is too fried trying to adjust to the invasion of the fungus and Levi’s will. He can feel it, creeping and curling into every crevice, rooting itself deep and ensuring it and its host will forever be one.
In the space where their minds blur together, Eren hears it — well, rather feels it. It’s barely a hint in the corner of his mind, a brushing thought against his own. There’s something else amongst the cordyceps’ eager drive. Levi — the real Levi and not the fungus controlled vessel — the man still buried far down inside somewhere in the psyche, whispers an apology. It twists in his mind, mournful and full of regret. There’s guilt for doing this to him, for making Eren like him. He can feel Levi’s emotions deep inside his chest. Everything feels so hollow and so hopeless.
Levi’s still in there.
Does that mean Eren is doomed to be like him too? Conscious and aware while his body is puppeted to attack the rest of humanity? Doomed to live with guilt like this?
All of these questions flood his mind, to which Eren simply cries as the fungus continues to grow, slowly taking his mind over and dulling the crushing devastation and utter terror until eventually, he can’t remember what it is he’s crying about. Eren lays numb on the ground, his feelers still intertwined with Levi’s, simply laying there, awaiting orders.
Eren Yeager is no more.
Only the fungus remains.