Titan Rumble Ch 27: Scaling The Massive Titan, A Masters struggle

Cain had to admit—he was starting to feel like a creep. Again.

Sneaking into yet another woman's room while she was sleeping wasn't exactly something he was proud of. He thought he'd left this kind of sneaky, awkward nonsense behind after his whole ordeal with Yuna. But no, here he was again, skulking around in a room that smelled like a gym bag had a lovechild with a fast food dumpster.

"Why does this keep happening to me?" he muttered to himself, his tiny feet barely making a sound against the wooden floor of the massive bedroom.

But this wasn't about embarrassment. Not this time. This was important. A mission. He wasn't here to gawk or get stepped on (hopefully). He needed to talk to Aurora. Needed to get her on board with the dojo again. She was talented. Too talented to be left rotting away in a bed buried under dirty clothes and old crumbs.

So, Cain took a breath, clenched his fists, and ran.

The floor sped past beneath him in a blur. The towering edge of the bed approached like the base of a small mountain. The massive sheets hanging from it dragged against the ground like silver-blue curtains, slightly swaying with each shift of Aurora's breath.

"Well," he said, taking a knee, steadying himself. "At least this should be easy."

He launched forward in a sprint and leapt from the floor, his body soaring up toward the dangling edge of the sheets. He caught hold of a fold in the fabric and began climbing. The texture was coarse and dense—normal cotton to a regular person, but to him it may as well have been military-grade tarp. Still, he climbed with ease, bouncing from wrinkle to wrinkle, letting the dips and folds act as footholds.

A few moments later, Cain pulled himself over the edge and stood at the summit.

The bed was vast, almost absurdly so. The comforter bunched beneath his feet like soft hills. Pockets of warm air radiated from the sleeping body ahead of him.

And there she was.

Aurora.

The massive woman lay sprawled out across the mattress, her dark hair a disheveled storm of silk across her pillow and shoulder. Her sheets were lazily thrown aside, revealing long, toned limbs that stretched across the bed like sleeping titans. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, catching the shine of her smooth skin. Her breathing was steady, slow, and deep—her chest rising and falling like tidal waves.

Cain took a cautious step forward. And then another.

At the far end of the bed, her toes peeked out from under the remaining blanket, so

massive, so strong that they could swallow miles of Omega lands, calloused from years of training. The cracked dead skin at her heels and joints was evidence of discipline and grit, a quiet sign of someone who once worked their body to its absolute limit.

"She really was the real deal," Cain muttered, a little surprised at how much reverence he felt seeing it up close. But then he gave his head a sharp shake, breaking out of it.

"Okay. Time to go," he said quickly, snapping out of the momentary trance and turning back to face the challenge ahead.

He had to wake her up.

And not die in the process.

Cain took a breath, backed up a few steps, and then sprinted.

His body launched into the air, arcing up and landing with precision on the curve of Aurora's giant toe. Her skin was warm and faintly slick from sleep. Without slowing, he bounced off again—his body carried in a blur to the top of her foot. Another spring, and he hit the soft slope of her arch, almost sliding from the smoothness. Then came one final jump, and he landed at her heel with a small grunt.

He stood up slowly.

From here, he could see her entire body—like a sleeping landmass spread across a vast plain of bedsheets. Her breathing was steady but powerful, rising and falling like waves. To her, Cain wasn't even ant-sized—he was more like dust. A microbe. A rogue atom.

And yet, he smirked.

This is what being Master means now, he thought, gazing up along the curves and angles of the sleeping Alpha. I train them. I teach them. And I survive them.

The sheer absurdity of it was almost laughable. But it only fueled him further. He turned and ran up the smooth slope of her calf, feet pattering over muscle that seemed half-living, half-stone beneath him. The slight shifting of her leg beneath his feet told him she was moving—if only a little.

Then came a rumble.

A low, drawn-out vibration that made the entire surface of her skin tremble. Her breath hitched. She moaned softly in her sleep. Cain stumbled but caught himself just in time—gripping a stray hair jutting from her leg like a safety rope.

"She felt that?" he muttered, eyes wide. "No way..."

The Alpha leg shifted more now, bending slightly at the knee, turning him into a passenger on a living bridge. Cain gritted his teeth, jumped over the smallest crease, and pushed forward. Finally, he came upon her upper thigh.

Before him stood the looming wall of her shorts.

Towering like a fortress gate, the black fabric of her sports shorts stretched upward and outward, forming dark folds and crevices that looked like natural caverns. From the top of her thigh, he could smell the humidity—warm, earthy, distinctly human, it was pungent and strong, threatening to over come his senses.

"Nope," Cain muttered, nose wrinkling. "Not going in there."

With a hop, he grabbed hold of a loose fold in the fabric and began to climb. The weave was tight, but for someone of his size, it was like scaling a mesh net. His fingers found footholds with ease. Every now and then, a shift in her breath or twitch in her sleep made the fabric flutter beneath him, but he was determined.

Finally, Cain hoisted himself onto the flat plateau at the top of her shorts, just above the rise of her lower back. He took a breath, steadying himself, legs burning just a little from the climb.

"Almost there," he whispered, eyes narrowing toward Aurora's sleeping face in the distance.

That's when it happened.

A sudden, deep rumble shook the ground beneath him.

Cain paused. The surface under his feet trembled like a drumskin. The air stilled for a moment... then exploded.

A wave of heat—humid, dense, and rank—rushed up from behind him like a freight train made of steam and regret. It hit Cain square in the back and launched him into the air with terrifying speed.

He spun once. Twice. His senses blurred. The smell overwhelmed him—musky, sour, unmistakably bodily. His stomach twisted.

With a thud, he crashed back-first into the small of Aurora's back, bouncing once before flopping face-down against her skin.

Cain groaned, face pressed to her warm skin.

"What... was that?"

He already knew the answer, of course. He didn't want to know it. But he knew it.

And as he lay there, stunned and trying to reorient himself, the realization hit him like a second slap to the face.

"She farted," he muttered aloud, eyes wide in disbelief. "She farted on me."

Cain slowly sat up, coughing slightly and brushing himself off, though there wasn't really much to brush. Everything had felt like it was part of her now.

"She's so going to pay for that."

He pushed himself up, swaying a little. The mission wasn't over—but damn, this part wasn't in the plan.