With the troops spread through the forest, Levi hadn't even warmed up by the time he linked up with Roger; the gas in his ODM gear was barely touched.
When he heard they were being hunted by a Central Military Police man named "Kenny," Levi, for once, lost a shade of his usual calm.
"You mean that 'Kenny the Ripper'?" Levi asked.
A cold wind threaded the trees; insects and birds called now and then.
Roger nodded and, with Tours, strapped on the ODM gear Levi had sent.
"It's him. He's good—caught me off guard, sure—but killing me won't be that easy."
"Be glad you didn't die," Levi said, voice low. "Kenny the Ripper is my teacher. Half my techniques came from him. You know why they call him 'the Ripper,' right?"
"A murderer who butchered Military Police," Roger said. "I didn't expect someone like that to join the MPs. No wonder I couldn't find him anywhere."
"If he's come for you, there's a reason." Levi's eyes narrowed. "From what I know, he never moves lightly. He taught me to avoid strength and strike weakness. If he's made a point of targeting you, there must be something he needs."
"Yeah…"
Roger lowered his head, thinking.
Levi frowned. "Hey. You not getting me? If you don't tell us the full picture, there's no way we can help you."
"You sure you want to know?"
Roger asked it, privately sighing—Levi was hard to snow.
"What do you think?"
Levi gave him that dead-fish stare of his.
The shotgun in his hands was loaded, ready to fire in an instant.
Not just him—everyone behind him was the same.
Taking that in, Roger swept a look around. For a unit founded not long ago, their numbers had already reached a scale that satisfied him.
He'd recruited these people himself. Most had MP records; even if they tried business or farming later, they'd be marked.
When they'd hit dead ends, Roger bought them in and promised wealth.
He hadn't expected Levi to drill them to this level so fast.
"No helping it—I'll tell you."
Roger sighed, then drew a blade across his palm.
Pat… pat…
Blood beaded and fell to the ground.
Everyone stared, unsure what the boss was doing.
Right then, before their eyes, the blood in Roger's palm congealed, and from the cut, thin black lines crawled out, sutured the wound, then began snaking up his arm toward his body.
"Wha—"
"What is that?!"
"Snakes? Bugs or something…?"
As the murmurs rose, Roger clenched his fist.
The black tracery met resistance, slowly ebbing back, but where it had passed it left dark red marks in its wake.
Suddenly he swung that arm into a tree beside him—hammered it hard—and a trunk as thick as a man's waist split open.
With the wood's painful crack, the tree snapped at midsection and crashed to the ground.
Boom!
The earth shuddered.
Men crowded in, gaping.
When they saw the tree was solid wood and the fracture real, they stared at one another, at a loss for any answer.
Uncanny.
"Boss… are you a ghost or something?"
One of the new recruits asked, voice trembling. He'd heard the old hands talk about "the Kamen Casino incident."
When the story reached the part where the boss killed a whole team of bodyguards alone, they all clammed up, afraid he'd hear. He'd insisted it stay secret.
Levi's brow stayed drawn. He'd seen men with great strength—but they'd been bigger than Roger.
If so, then this strength came from those "weird black lines."
But…
What were they?
He looked at Roger, eyes full of questions.
"My real name is Roger Eikam," Roger said. "You all just saw it—something strange shows up. I don't know when it began. I tried to find out why and failed. So I figured I'd use it—turn it into something: money, status."
"I see…"
Heads nodded. They'd followed Roger anyway; they just hadn't expected him to truly have a power like a spirit or demon. No wonder he kept winning.
Levi kept silent, weighing whether to believe him.
"I want one promise: once you get what you're after, you stop binding me. Let me and my people go free."
After a long moment, Levi finally said it.
Roger shook his head.
"I haven't bound any of you. You can leave me anytime. I've always said we're partners. That hasn't changed."
At that, everyone nodded, convinced.
It was true—every time someone wanted out, Roger never stopped them.
For men who weren't evil by nature, being treated with that respect felt right.
And without this corps that paid them on time, they had nowhere to go.
Back to the fields?
Petty theft?
Don't joke.
That, too, settled Levi. He didn't say it out loud, but his next move made his stance plain.
"Fine. Then let's head back," Levi said, reaching for his triggers. "Tell me your next move."
"Not so fast," Roger smiled. "I've got the next move—and right now is perfect."
"What move?"
"They don't know we can strike back. So we lie in wait—and swallow them whole."
Roger already had the follow-ups in mind.
He'd been waiting for this ever since he changed his alias to "Reiner"—waiting for Pieck, Annie, and Bertholdt to reveal their positions. Only then could he stop playing defense, cut down the threat from those inside the Walls, and slow their hunt for the Founding.
If they knew exactly where the Jaw Titan was but didn't know where the Founding was, would they seize the Jaw first—or keep hunting the Founding?
They chose the former.
And now it's time to reel the line.
Because the big fish is on the hook.