As promised, Xing Yu immediately turned toward Eren, who had been silently trailing behind. His voice was quick and clipped. "Contact the scout mothership. Ask them to send another ship down for us."
Eren gave a small nod and stepped aside, already lifting his wrist communicator to send the command.
The moment Jian heard that, he tensed. His body went rigid, and his expression changed from cautious to alarmed. "Wait—what? Why?" he asked sharply. Then his voice rose, full of panic, "Why don’t you just bring my grandpa down? I want to see him! Bring him down here!"
His shout echoed against the cracked concrete walls of the building, startling Quangya on his back.
Seeing Jian’s rising agitation, Xing Yu stepped forward quickly and gently grasped Jian’s trembling hand, trying to calm him. "The journey up and down is too strenuous for your grandfather," he said softly, his golden eyes earnest. "He’s old, Jian. Even a small impact could hurt him. I promise you—he is safe up there, resting and under proper care."
But Jian shook his head, hard, almost violently, his hand twitching in Xing Yu’s grip. "No—no, you’re trying to trick me. You’re trying to take me away with you. I don’t believe you!" His voice cracked and rose again, raw with fear and confusion.
He jerked his hand free from Xing Yu’s and stepped back in a hurry, his foot catching on a broken piece of rubble littered across the ground. He staggered with a sharp gasp.
"Careful—!" Li Wang darted forward and caught him just in time. Jian collapsed into his arms with a startled grunt, Quangya letting out a worried squeak from behind.
Li Wang held Jian close, one arm steadying his waist and the other protecting his back. His face was tight with concern as he looked at Jian’s pale face and then turned his glare toward Xing Yu.
His voice was low but seething. "You kidnapped his grandfather and now you’re trying to con him into following you like some brainless puppet," he accused, holding Jian a little closer. "Shameless alien. I won’t let you do that."
Xing Yu’s mouth opened slightly in shock. His golden eyes blinked as if the words hit him like a slap. He didn’t speak, not right away. His hands, still half-raised from trying to comfort Jian, dropped to his sides. For a moment, something flashed through his eyes—hurt, maybe. Or anger.
But he didn’t defend himself. Not yet.
Instead, his gaze moved slowly back to Jian, who was still breathing hard, shoulders shaking, barely holding it together in Li Wang’s arms.
"Jian..." Xing Yu took a careful step forward.
But Jian was already moving. He reached behind him, shifting Quangya slightly on his back, and in a swift motion drew the sword strapped to his side. The cold metal gleamed under the broken daylight as he pointed it straight at Xing Yu’s chest.
"Give me my grandpa!" Jian’s voice cracked. His eyes were wide, red-rimmed, and brimming with tears that clung to his lashes. His hand trembled, but the sword didn’t lower. "Don’t lie to me. Don’t touch me. Just bring him to me!"
Xing Yu froze. For a long second, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. His lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came out. His gaze flicked to the blade, then to Jian’s shaking hands, and finally to the tears streaking his cheeks.
From behind him, Eren suddenly stepped forward, quickly and without hesitation. He dropped to one knee in front of Jian with a thud that echoed through the ruined street.
"Your Highness," Eren said, voice loud but full of emotion. "We, the Farain, would never betray you or try to deceive you. You have our word for it."
He bowed his head deeply, then looked up at Jian again, desperation clear in his eyes. "Please trust us. Trust our General. He would never mean you harm."
Jian’s sword faltered slightly but didn’t lower. His brows were furrowed deeply, the distrust still twisting his face. He sniffled quietly, holding his ground.
"Please..." Eren said again. "We will never hurt you. Or your loved ones. If you can’t believe our words, then I’ll prove it—with a blood oath."
Behind them, Varon’s voice rang out. "Eren!"
But the man was already moving. Without waiting, Eren reached into his uniform and pulled out a short ceremonial dagger. He pressed the blade against the side of his own neck without a second thought.
Xing Yu spun around, his eyes wide. "Stop!"
Varon stepped forward, alarm flashing across his face. "Eren, don’t—!"
Jian’s heart pounded as he stared at the kneeling man, the blade glinting against his skin. The pressure of the moment hung thick in the air, like something waiting to snap.
"J-Just..." Jian finally broke the silence, his voice shaking. "If you don’t bring me back down... I’ll kill you all. I swear I will."
His voice cracked under the weight of the words, and he rubbed his eyes with the back of his arm, wiping the tears away in a hurry. "I just want my grandpa," he whispered.
Jian’s breathing came out in short, shallow bursts. His arms trembled. Slowly, he lowered the sword. The sharp edge wavered for a moment before he turned it away and reached behind to slide it carefully back into the backpack. He made sure to move gently, cautious not to bump or scrape the small boy clinging to his back.
Even Quangya was trembling.
The moment Jian felt it—the slight shiver in the child’s fingers curled against his shoulder—it hit him like a wave. The guilt. Thick and suffocating.
He glanced over his shoulder, then reached up and softly patted the small hand holding onto him. "It’s okay," he whispered. "It’s okay now, Quangya."
The boy didn’t say anything. He just buried his face against Jian’s neck.
Jian clenched his jaw and swallowed down the lump in his throat. He hadn’t meant to scare the kid. He hadn’t even realized how loud he’d gotten, how unhinged he must have looked. His meltdown—his explosion of fear and anger—had spilled out without warning, and the innocent boy caught in the crossfire of his emotions... Jian’s chest tightened. The shame stung almost as much as the panic had.
He clenched his fist tight, his nails digging into his palm.
He couldn’t keep doing this.
No matter how strong he tried to act... the trauma never left. It clung to him, wrapped around his bones like barbed wire. He remembered it too clearly—being dragged away, trapped, the dark, suffocating cell. The fear. The helplessness. The sheer terror of being taken, of not knowing if he’d ever be free again.
Even now, after being reborn, that fear was still inside him, festering. Waiting.
He looked down at his other hand, the one that had been holding the sword, and pressed it against his chest where his heart pounded violently in his ribs.
’I... I’m strong,’ he thought to himself. ’I can overcome this...’
He shut his eyes and held onto that thought, repeating it silently in his head. Again. And again.
"I’ll find my grandpa... and bring him back to me... we’ll survive..."