In the past, while Marley had precedents for using "airships" as combat transports, they had never loaded Eldians who'd drunk Titan spinal fluid onto them—nor did they have Zeke, that ultimate weapon.
They simply hadn't imagined loading Titans onto airships and harnessing Titan power that way.
Back then, their best idea was to drop a Titan shifter into the center of the battlefield.
That minimized stray-bullet damage before transformation and greatly increased the shifter's odds of survival.
After all, they were trump cards—Marley's ace in the hole.
Losing one would be a crippling waste.
But things were different now.
With Zeke's Beast Titan, Marley could load many who had drunk spinal fluid, then trigger their transformations in midair.
To them, Titans were expendable—and Eldians doubly so, lives not worth grieving.
It also meant fewer soldiers needed at the front and lower military expenditures; all they had to do was keep producing spinal fluid.
The airship drifted forward at a crawl. Slow, but with nothing to obstruct it in the open sky, it could cruise on without worry of collision.
Zeke sat in the cabin, savoring coffee.
A book in hand, he read by sunlight pouring through the porthole, pausing now and then to take a small sip.
Outside, clouds boiled. The airship rode above the overcast.
Sitting by the window with a book felt like reading aboard a ship on a sea of cloud.
Exceedingly pleasant. Remarkably serene.
Zeke loved this part of the job. Because Marley was so often at war—and because the sky was deemed the safest place to protect Titan assets—he spent day after day inside airship cabins.
If he was hungry, the galley was stocked, with a proper kitchen and a dedicated chef.
If he was thirsty, there was coffee and soups—refreshing and tasty.
Marley was deeply prejudiced against Eldians, but it pampered Titan inheritors.
They feared these inheritors might rebel, or fall ill and die suddenly; so in many matters they received preferential treatment, even the title "Honorary Marleyan."
For many shifters, that policy was both a goad and a lure.
They'd seen it with their own eyes—low-status Eldians who, upon inheriting a Titan, suddenly gained respect (if not at the societal level). They enjoyed privileges that in some places exceeded those of true Marleyans.
Like this cabin—Zeke's alone.
No one came to chat; the whole ship, besides him, was Marleyan, and Marley wouldn't waste effort surveilling him.
Unless Zeke could actually suborn a pure Marleyan to serve him.
Which was, of course, impossible.
Like a mouse persuading a human to steal cheese—odds: zero.
So Zeke was at ease.
No one bothering him was a thrill.
Unlike on the ground, where even taking a dump required filing a report.
He filed them properly every time, but still fretted that his… unique way of wiping might be noticed by the military. Their informants were everywhere around him; plainclothes even tailed him to the restroom.
Once, while on the toilet and about to hide a note for his devotee Yelena beside the bowl, he heard breathing in the next stall; peering through the gap below the partition, he saw someone "doing his business" with his pants still on, pressed close to the divider—eavesdropping.
From then on, he feared Marley's listening posts and stopped passing orders in bathrooms, switching to other channels.
"Mr. Zeke, the captain says we're almost there."
Someone appeared from who knew where, addressed him, and sat across from him.
Zeke looked up, adjusted his glasses, then glanced down through the porthole.
Flying above the clouds, he could see nothing of the ground.
Still, since there'd been a heads-up, they had to be close.
"Rest easy. I've made thorough preparations."
He closed the book, lifted the pot, and poured his visitor a cup.
The man took a sip. "Thank you," he said softly.
"Laibusi beans. Not bad, right?"
"Not bad—rich and mellow."
"Shame they're rare now. Since the war with Laibusi, they've grown scarce—and now there's no importing them at all."
"…Once we recover the Founding, Marley will rule Laibusi again, Mr. Zeke. Don't worry."
"Ah…" Zeke's face didn't change, but his mood grew complicated.
He fell silent again.
Ever since he reported his own parents—leading directly to their deaths—he'd wanted to make it so Eldians could never be born into the world again.
Then no one would suffer the Titans' curse.
But before that could happen, many would still die by Titans.
A people cursed by demons, he thought, a gloom settling in his chest.
If only he'd been born a Marleyan.
Just then, the man across from him seemed to remember something.
"Right—the copilot on this airship is from Laibusi. Let's bring him in."
"No need. I'm not in the mood." Realizing how that sounded, Zeke added, "With a great battle looming, I don't want distractions."
"It's fine—just a little chat."
Smiling, the man went to the cockpit.
Soon, a uniformed Black man stepped out. Seeing Zeke, he politely removed his cap.
"Sit," Zeke said.
They both sat.
"My name is Zeke."
"Onyankopon."
"Nice to meet you. I heard Laibusi's land was returned. Why are you still here?" Zeke asked.
"The land was returned, yes, but I… I submitted an application to go home. It simply hasn't been approved."
Onyankopon sighed.
"Maybe it's because you're important. If you couldn't fly airships, you'd probably have been approved long ago."
"Exactly. If I couldn't fly airships, I'd probably already…"
"I understand."
Zeke poured him a cup as well. The two touched rims.
"To understanding."
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