A shadow slowly emerged from the radiant glow.
The space remained eerily silent.
Satoru narrowed his eyes, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, the purple-black Chaki flickering like ghostly flames around Yubashiri.
As the figure came into full view, a tall man stood before him.
1.83 meters—towering over Satoru by a full head.
But it wasn't the height that made Satoru tense up.
It was the aura surrounding him.
A lean yet resilient frame.
A pair of deep green eyes—murky and hollow, as if they had lost everything.
Despair.
Emptiness.
No light remained in those eyes.
**Eren.**
A name Satoru never expected to encounter in this world.
He immediately activated his Observation Haki at 200%, scanning every detail of the man before him.
Eren's face was rough and unkempt, his expression cold and weary, as though he had endured an endless journey.
"This world summoned someone like him?"
Satoru pondered.
This wasn't the Eren of his youth, but Eren after the final battle.
An Eren who had lost everything.
An Eren who had abandoned himself to bring humanity a future.
"If that's the case…"
"Then where is his Titan transformation?"
Satoru's mind raced at lightning speed, searching for any sign that Eren could still transform into a Titan.
But…
Nothing.
He probed further, and immediately dismissed the notion.
The power of the Titans stemmed from the **Paths**, a vast network linking all Titans together.
If Eren had been summoned into a completely different universe, chances were he had lost that connection.
He could no longer become a Titan.
But…
Then **what** was this raging energy coursing through him?!
Satoru could feel it—a wild, uncontrollable force boiling within Eren.
Something primal.
Something foreign to this world.
Something terrifying.
It was even more overwhelming than the strongest chakra reserves Satoru had encountered in Konoha.
It even…
Bore a slight resemblance to **Hashirama's Yang Release.**
But… it wasn't Chakra.
Satoru quickly discarded the idea.
Chakra only existed in this world, originating from **Kaguya Otsutsuki.**
Those who possessed chakra inherited it through her lineage.
Eren was an outsider.
He shouldn't have chakra.
Then what was flowing through him?
**The spine of the Founding Titan.**
The thought struck Satoru immediately.
Eren could no longer transform into a Titan, but…
He still carried within him the **spinal fluid of the Founding Titan.**
The spine of a being capable of shaping an entire race.
Which meant…
Even without the Paths, Eren retained a fragment of the Titans' essence within his body.
A raw, unrefined energy—wild, unbridled, and overwhelming.
Satoru was shaken, but he maintained his stance.
Was this man a friend or a foe?
Eren's eyes drifted around the small, dilapidated room.
The creaky wooden floor, the old furniture—everything looked worse than a rookie soldier's barracks.
Then, his gaze flickered to Yubashiri, where the flickering purple-black flames of Chaki danced along the blade.
But there was no reaction.
No surprise.
No curiosity.
Just an indifference so deep it was chilling.
He locked eyes with Satoru for a brief moment, his face devoid of any emotion.
Then, without a word, he turned around and walked to the lone wooden chair in the room.
He dropped into it.
Leaning back.
Silent.
As if… he no longer cared about the world.
Satoru: "…"
He didn't lower his guard.
His entire body remained coiled like a spring, ready to activate **full Haki** and the **Thunder God Blade** technique from the Third Hokage at a moment's notice.
But as he gazed at Eren's still figure, something within him shifted.
His shoulders relaxed.
His gaze softened.
He released his grip on the sword, then sat down on the bed, quietly observing Eren.
Silence filled the room.
No one spoke.
Only the gentle rustling of the wind against the window filled the void.
Time passed slowly.
One minute.
Ten minutes.
Thirty minutes.
Neither of them uttered a word.
But Satoru could feel it.
Eren was thinking.
A man who had abandoned his world, now thrown into a new one.
What could he possibly be feeling?
Satoru felt a profound sense of empathy.
He understood Eren's pain.
He was lucky—90% of his past-life memories had faded, leaving only vague recollections of his grandfather.
Perhaps that was a blessing.
Forgetting meant he did not have to suffer the weight of the past.
But Eren…
Eren had not forgotten.
The agony and sorrow still lingered in his eyes.
Satoru recalled the entire story of **Attack on Titan**, and as he looked at Eren, his wariness gave way to something else—**sympathy.**
He had an impulse to embrace Eren, on behalf of every anime fan in the world, just to say:
"You've fought so hard. You've endured so much. Thank you."
But he knew better.
As men, they understood what the other needed.
So instead, he chose **silence.**
The sound of crickets chirping outside continued their melancholic song in the quiet Konoha night.
Finally, after an hour, Eren spoke.
His voice was deep, hoarse, as though it had been too long since he had last spoken to anyone.
"What's your name?"
Satoru slowly opened his eyes.
"Satoru."
"Hoshino Satoru. Nice to meet you, Eren."