Oh God, It’s a Titan!
The grassland was quiet again—until it wasn’t.
A distant rumble rolled across the horizon. Within minutes, it grew louder… until ten police cars and one massive cargo truck came barreling through the dirt road and screeched to a halt at the edge of the sacred dogland.
Dozens of police officers stepped out, geared up and serious.
In front of them, a wall of dogs stood firm, snarling softly, tails raised in defiance.
Norman walked out from the crowd.
His bare feet crushed the grass beneath him. His shoulders were broad. His hair was matted like a wild animal. But his voice?
Smooth. Confident. Cold.
“What, you think twenty cops can take us down?”
“You’re underestimating us. That’s not a good idea.”
He scanned them from left to right… then back again.
Then he frowned.
“No leader?”
“This your whole squad? Just a bunch of side characters? Where’s your big man?”
“Every real fight’s got a boss on each side. You brought no boss?”
He shook his head in disappointment. Behind him, the dogs grumbled in agreement.
But then—
The cargo truck began to shake.
At first it was subtle. Then violent.
Metal groaned. The back doors rattled.
Inside… something moved.
What everyone thought were piles of stone began to shift. But they weren’t stone. Not even close.
It was a man.
A giant of a man—five meters tall, at least two meters wide. His skin looked like it had been carved from bark and granite. He wore a XXXXL t-shirt and oversized khaki shorts. Everything about him looked… unnatural.
He slowly rose to full height.
The entire truck trembled as he stood.
Then he stepped down—one heavy foot after another, leaving deep prints in the dirt.
He looked down on Norman, and the entire dogpack behind him, like a living skyscraper with eyes.
His voice came out deep and rumbling:
“I’m the one in charge.”
“I’m the chief officer.”
“Wayne.”
Norman took one slow step back.
He widened his eyes.
Then—dead serious, but a little too loud:
“Oh my God…”
“It’s a Titan!”
“Damn—it’s a Titan!!”
The dogs behind him stirred nervously. A few whimpered.
Officer Wayne didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared.
A silence settled between them.
And the wind blew across the field like it already knew—
Something massive was about to break loose.
The Titan with BGM
Suddenly, the air shifted.
From somewhere—nowhere—a song began to play.
Haunting. Epic. The kind of orchestral chant that made your chest tighten and your stomach twist. The kind of music that plays when entire civilizations collapse.
Norman blinked.
“Wait… I know this…”
“That’s the Attack on Titan soundtrack.”
It wasn’t just similar. It was the song—the one that played when the walls came down and hell followed.
He looked around, stunned.
And then—Officer Wayne took a step forward.
One step—nearly fifteen meters. The earth groaned under his weight.
Then another.
He moved like a walking apocalypse. One massive arm reached down and scraped the earth, dragging dirt, grass, and dogs.
Fifteen—maybe twenty of them—were swept up in the attack. Their bodies flew into the sky, then crashed back down in a sickening rain. Some howled in agony. Others didn’t move at all.
A few were gone before they hit the ground.
Norman barely dodged the blow. His instincts fired, and he lunged sideways like a blur of muscle and fear.
Then—Wayne reached down again. This time, he scooped up the earth.
Trees. Roots. Entire chunks of ground.
He flung them upward, and the sky itself seemed to fill with soil and wood. One tree ripped free from its roots and spun like a thrown spear. Several dogs were crushed before they could run.
The battlefield was a hellscape.
Norman crouched behind a boulder, gasping for breath.
And yet—through all of it—the music kept playing.
“Wait…” Norman muttered. “Where the hell is that coming from?”
He turned his head. And that’s when he saw it.
One of the cops—standing back like he was doing soundcheck—
had a Bluetooth speaker strapped to his belt.
And from it… the Attack on Titan theme blasted at full volume.
Full choir. War drums. Cinematic dread.
Norman stared.
“Are you serious?”
“They’ve got a soundtrack guy?”
“What is this—some kind of theatrical boss fight?!”
He didn’t know whether to scream or laugh.
Then—Wayne picked up one of the injured dogs.
Raised it high.
And swallowed it whole.
Didn’t chew. Didn’t look down. Just… gulped.
Norman’s voice cracked as he screamed:
“OH SHIT—RUN!!”
“EVERYONE—RUN!!”
The dogs scattered.
Their escape path bent and curved like lightning—some ran left, some darted right, but most bolted straight into the dense forest behind them.
Norman ran with them.
“Don’t look back!” he shouted.
“Get to the trees! In there, he can’t see us clearly!”
As they fled, Norman glanced back one last time. He saw the line of cops, still standing behind the titan, doing nothing.
He narrowed his eyes.
“No need to deal with them,” he muttered.
“They’re not warriors. Just props.”
Bloodbath in Forest
Wayne took one heavy step into the forest.
Norman’s eyes flared.
“Damn it!”
He turned to the pack and shouted—voice sharp, desperate:
“Go for the back of his neck! That’s his weak spot!”
Five dogs leapt through the trees in perfect sync—howling, loyal, fearless.
They soared onto Wayne’s back, claws digging, teeth bared.
They bit hard. They clawed harder.
But nothing worked.
His skin was like a fusion of stone and bark—impossibly hard, gnarled, and unbreakable.
Wayne didn’t even flinch.
“What the fuck are you guys doing?” he bellowed.
“My weak spot’s not even on my damn neck!”
Then—SLAP. SLAP. SLAP.
He smacked his own neck like he was swatting mosquitoes.
The dogs didn’t even get a chance to yelp.
They were crushed into raw meat paste—bones cracked, organs splattered, eyes popped from sockets.
Norman watched it all, frozen. Then he screamed.
“Bob!! Amy!! Coco!! Daniel!! Johnny!!”
His voice cracked on each name.
He remembered every one.
He always did.
“I won’t let your deaths be in vain. I’ll kill him. I swear it!”
But the bloodbath had only just begun.
Wayne swung a fist sideways—obliterating several trees in a single swipe. A few dogs hiding in the branches were slammed down with the broken limbs, crashing hard into the dirt—bones cracked, bodies limp.
Then he grabbed a whole tree—roots and all—and hurled it deep into the forest like a javelin. It smashed through the canopy and crushed two more dogs below.
Next—he scooped up a pile of jagged stones, tossed them into a dense bush—
Yelps. Whimpers. Silence.
Norman stood still, panting, heart twisting.
The bodies were stacking.
The ground was soaked.
He felt his heart crack.
Not figuratively. Literally.
It felt like glass shattering inside his chest.
So much death.
So fast.
So senseless.
And then—something shifted.
A spark.
A single, blinding thread of clarity shot through his mind.
His breathing steadied.
His eyes sharpened.
“Wait…”
There might be a way.
A plan.
Something crazy, but possible.
A way to kill the titan.
To end it once and for all.
Norman clenched his fists.
The blood hadn’t dried.
The pain hadn’t faded.
But the idea was forming.
And this time—
He would strike back.
Blood and Vines
Norman leapt from branch to branch—quick, agile, wild.
And as he moved, he barked. Loud. Rhythmic. Urgent.
It wasn’t just noise.
It was language.
Dog language.
“Dogs! Slow him down!”
“By any means necessary—stall the giant!”
His words echoed through the canopy, and the dogs heard.
They understood.
And they obeyed.
Norman didn’t stop. He sprinted ahead—200 meters forward into the forest—and immediately got to work.
The trap had to be fast, crude, brutal.
He grabbed massive vines, thick as rope, and began wrapping them between two giant trees, tying them low across the path—a tripping line.
But one vine wasn’t enough.
He used ten. Maybe more.
He stretched them tight. Layered them for strength. Anchored them hard.
If Wayne stepped into it at full speed, his momentum would betray him.
“He’ll trip. Fall hard. A beast that size… even the ground can hurt him.”
“And if he’s down—I go in for the eyes.”
Norman finished the last knot, panting, sweating.
Then came the sound.
CRACK. SNAP. HOWL.
Wayne was getting closer.
Back in the trees, the dogs were doing their part.
They dropped from the branches like rain—dozens of them, all sizes, all shapes—landing all over Wayne’s massive stone-like body.
Wayne looked up, mildly annoyed.
“Do all these dogs have a death wish…?”
They clawed. They bit.
They screamed.
Wayne didn’t hesitate.
He slapped his own body like he was killing mosquitoes.
Each blow left a bloody mark—fur and meat paste smeared across his limbs.
He punched sideways into the trees—sending a shockwave that broke branches, flattened underbrush, and slammed dogs against the trunks like broken toys.
“One dog. Two dogs. Five dogs. Ten.”
“Every second—another one dies.”
Wayne didn’t slow down.
He kicked through the forest like a wrecking ball.
Each stomp killed. Each swing destroyed.
In less than a minute, over a hundred dogs had fallen.
“It’s like they’re diving straight into a meat grinder.”
And still—he kept walking.
Until—
A scream split the sky.
A savage, wild howl, deep and full of pain:
“AWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
Norman.
It was the signal.
Every dog stopped.
They didn’t need more words.
They turned and ran. Dozens of them.
Back into the depths of the forest. Away from the blood. Away from the giant.
Wayne watched them go, expressionless.
Then he muttered:
“Not so fast.”
He lifted one leg—and kicked a massive round stone, the size of a small car, into a nearby bush.
CRUNCH.
Screams rang out—sharp, panicked—and then silence.
He didn’t care. He just followed.
The pack was ahead.
Norman was waiting.
And the trap was just ten meters away.
Forestquake
Norman knelt in the shadows, hands clasped tight together.
For the first time in his life… he prayed.
“Too many have died…
Please… just let this trap work. Amen.”
In the distance, Wayne charged forward.
Still hunting. Still unstoppable.
He chased a dog through the treetops—fast, leaping between branches.
CRACK!
One punch—clean, brutal—caught the dog midair.
It exploded into a spray of blood and bone, scattering through the forest like shrapnel.
Wayne let out a cocky laugh.
“Too easy.”
Then—his foot caught something.
Vines.
Dozens of thick vines, stretched low between two massive trees.
Perfectly placed. Taut. Invisible in the undergrowth.
Wayne’s momentum was too great.
His legs yanked the vines so violently that they snapped instantly, their ends whipping through the air like broken cables.
The force of the impact didn’t stop there—
Both trees anchoring the vines cracked under the tension.
Their trunks splintered. Their bodies folded.
They collapsed in opposite directions like felled towers.
But Wayne—
He was already airborne.
“Oh no—!!”
He shouted as his entire body tilted forward, out of control.
Chest-first. Weight-forward.
The ground rushed up to meet him.
Norman saw it all.
“OH YEAH, BABY!!”
He roared. The dogs howled beside him—hundreds of voices in one wave of celebration.
But—
It was too soon.
Just before impact, Wayne twisted midair.
With perfect control, he slammed both hands into the ground.
Fingers dug in. Muscles flexed.
Then—
A forward flip.
A clean, elegant, impossibly agile somersault for a creature of his size.
BOOM!
Both feet landed like hammers.
The earth cracked. The forest shook.
Rocks flew. Roots snapped. Trees bent sideways.
Wayne stood tall again.
Not wounded.
Not slowed.
Balanced. Ready. Dangerous.
“He didn’t fall.”
“He flipped through it.”
“He’s not just strong… he’s graceful.”
All the hope Norman had poured into the vines… gone.
Crushed under five tons of muscle and precision.
He stood there, stunned.
Frozen in place.
Staring at the monster who refused to go down.
He doesn’t know what to do anymore.
The Fall of Dogland
Norman stood frozen. Ten full seconds passed. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
Then he made his decision.
He tilted his head to the sky and shouted with all his strength—
“Dogland has fallen! Flee—run in all directions! We abandon this land!”
The words echoed through the forest like thunder.
Then he added—his voice quieter, but no less firm:
“We will regroup in the city… the city called Flushing.”
And with that, Norman took off, sprinting on all fours. The other dogs didn’t hesitate. As if obeying a deeply ingrained instinct, they scattered in every direction. Some to the east. Some to the hills. Some into the forest.
Wayne could only chase in one direction—he couldn’t pursue them all. That moment of divergence saved countless lives. The escape wasn’t clean. It wasn’t heroic. But it worked.
As Wayne gave chase, he spotted a golden blur running nearby—one of the dogs still too close.
With one massive leg, Wayne twisted at the hip and launched a violent kick—
WHOOM
The golden retriever shot into the air like a football launched across a stadium. His body twirled lifelessly, limbs flailing.
Norman glanced back for just a second.
He knew that shape. That golden fur. That dumb little grin.
It was Retarded.
He had died midair. Before he even hit the ground.
Norman clenched his jaw. Tears threatened to fall. But he didn’t stop.
He didn’t look back again.
He just ran.
And all around him, the sounds of paws pounding dirt faded into the wind. One by one, the dogs of Dogland vanished from the sacred forest and left the grasslands behind.
They were gone.
—
Ten days later.
Norman arrived—alone.
He was gaunt. Dust-covered. His fur matted, his limbs sore. But he had made it.
Ahead of him stretched the lights of Flushing—the city he thought he’d never return to.
And now, somehow, it was home again.
The sanctuary of Dogland was lost.