Zeke, for the first time, felt he couldn't read the military's mind.
It was the military that pulled him off Paradis Island, and it was the military that pulled him back to Paradis from somewhere else.
If it were to invade another nation, that would at least make sense.
Laibusi's land was fertile, its labor abundant, its resources superb, and its technology among the world's finest.
You could say they wielded considerable clout on the world stage—enough to rally other nations.
Invasion—erasing them—was worthwhile for Marley.
It could materially accelerate Marley's development.
Except…
What Zeke never expected was that Marley's brass acted like they'd been kicked in the head by a mule. After occupying Laibusi, they abruptly changed tack, not only returning the territory, but even offering a sincere apology.
No telling what they were up to.
And now they wanted to launch a general offensive on Paradis.
Zeke had built a training base on the docks of Paradis.
But that little patch of ground could never hold a force as large as Marley's.
Most of the army waited aboard the ships, waiting for the vanguard to carve out a foothold on the island.
Only…
There were far too many Pure Titans roaming Paradis.
Just as the Marley brass had worried years ago, Marleyan soldiers couldn't even approach the island, much less push their artillery up onto the Walls.
With expansion proving so difficult, Zeke had no choice but to advise the military to cancel this operation for now—clear out the Titans roaming Paradis first, then make plans.
But the brass, for whatever mad reason, not only rejected his advice—they ordered him to immediately deploy his Titan Corps to annihilate the Titans on Paradis.
Given how stupid that order was, Zeke had no intention of acting on it even after receiving it.
Not because he dared to disobey, but because he could clearly foresee the outcome if he released his Titan Corps along Paradis's coast: nothing but Titan-on-Titan slaughter. The ground would be carpeted in Titan corpses, and his own Titan Corps would take catastrophic losses. Not worth it.
What he didn't know was just how chaotic Marley's military had become.
A considerable faction within it belonged to the Tybur family. They weren't Tyburs by blood, but having been granted the surname "Eikam" by a Tybur general, they served the Tybur family's interests.
They held high office, and when it came to policy, clashing opinions had turned every meeting into a brawl.
The pure-blood, purebred Marleyan officer corps wanted nothing to do with Paradis or with orders handed down by the Tyburs. They wanted invasion—more land to seize—and had no desire to gnaw on the hard bone that was Paradis.
Meanwhile, some of the "Eikams" offered brainless, unconditional support for Tybur directives to Marley.
Their loyalty to the family was absolute; even if it meant death, they would enact the Tybur elders' will, overseeing and controlling the military to ensure it never slipped free of Tybur hands.
(Which is exactly why the Tyburs needed the "Eikams"—their covert control over Marley could never be exposed. They had to be a spotless family, so pure the world could find no fault.)
Just like the 145th King of Fritz—he who inherited the Founding Titan and pitied the world—the Tyburs ran an experiment: if they behaved themselves and played the part of "heroes who saved the world," could Eldians live in harmony with the world?
As it turned out—yes.
The world respected the Tybur family.
But the Tyburs were not pure.
They hid from the world and avoided war in word, claiming they would merely "watch" as Marley walked down the road of militarism. In secret, they gripped every lifeline of Marley's state.
They were Marley's true masterminds.
The "Eikam" were the best proof.
Now that word had spread that the Tyburs had lost the War Hammer Titan, Marley no longer respected them as before.
Sensing Marley's rebellious mood, the Tyburs grew deeply uneasy.
Willy Tybur ordered a general offensive on Paradis, planning to leverage the world's favorable view of the Tyburs to rally everyone for a crusade against Roger on Paradis.
But Willy Tybur was no Benson Tybur; he was still too young.
He had never done anything like "defeating the War Hammer Titan with a mortal body."
Nor had he ruled Marley through iron-blooded policy.
War isn't something you finish by issuing an order. Willy didn't understand that; Zeke did.
He was now weighing whether it was time to betray Marley.
The Titan Corps was his trump card—his means to seize the Founding.
With the Titan Corps' overwhelming power, invading Paradis and devouring the Founding would only be a matter of time.
He knew Roger would never negotiate with him. So this was the only path.
As his devotee, Yelena continually fed Zeke classified intelligence from the military.
Through her, Zeke learned of Marley's predicament and calmed himself.
"The order will be rescinded," Zeke thought.
The very next day—after he launched a token, show-of-force assault on the Titans of Paradis—the brass sent a new order: stand by. The offensive would wait until the Pure Titans had been cleared.
But that wasn't all.
The Tyburs still didn't want Roger beating them to the Founding, so they chose a compromise.
They would use airships to drop a Titan army into the Walls.
Just as they'd conceived it, a downpour of Titans would crash from the sky like rain—transforming in midair and smashing every structure within the Walls to powder.
Seeing this plan, Zeke finally nodded his tacit approval.
Not because he thought it was brilliant, but because it would put him face-to-face with Roger as fast as possible.
Then…
He could blanket the interior with his spinal-fluid gas and turn the people within the Walls into Titans—then sic them on Roger.
Zeke figured even if that didn't kill Roger, at the very least it would sap him, tilting the odds toward victory.
And so…
In Marley, the airships rose into the sky.
Zeke boarded with soldiers who had drunk spinal fluid, and they were borne aloft.
Through the porthole, Zeke looked down at the landscape—the natural beauty of Paradis Island and the Pure Titans roaming the land.
In the cabin, the telegraph ticked; a nearby mug steamed with hot coffee.
The printer spat out one slip after another.
On a white strip of paper,
one line stood out, crisp and clear:
"…gas,
…Titans,
…falling from the sky,
…codename—[Acid Rain Plan]."
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