Roger had no idea what Marley was playing at.
Long ago—and even in the memories Reiner later saw firsthand—Marley had never recklessly sent all its airships to the front.
The reason was simple: airships were expensive and easy targets for anti-aircraft guns, so they were usually used to transport troops or conduct high-altitude reconnaissance.
During reconnaissance, they were hard to spot because they hid in the clouds.
But now, Marley had not only sent airships to the front—they were hovering absurdly low.
"Are you that sure the cannons inside the Walls can't touch you?"
Roger swore under his breath. He really had no way to handle an airship.
Of the Titans he'd inherited—the Jaw, the Armored, the War Hammer—none could fly.
Even the one Titan power that could attack into the sky from the ground couldn't bring down an airship this high.
So… sit and wait to die?
No.
Absolutely not.
"Tours, form up—now!"
"On it!"
Sensing things were about to go bad, Tours moved at once, firing his ODM gear and streaking toward the Scorpion Group's encampment.
Roger stayed on the Wall, eyes on the sky.
He wanted to see what the Marleyans aboard those airships were actually up to.
Recon?
Or something else?
Whatever it was, he would never allow them to descend inside the Walls and disgorge troops.
He'd already decided: the moment those airships tried to drop again, he would transform and make sure none of them left alive.
Down below, people argued among themselves about the strange thing flying overhead.
They had never seen such a creature.
From experience, the sharp-eyed—especially craftsmen—could tell at a glance it was man-made, not some animal, much less a "divine being."
Even so, they didn't know where it came from, or whether it was friend or foe.
Slowly, the strange objects sank lower, revealing their full shape to the people within the Walls.
Someone guessed they'd come to take everyone away.
"It's a chariot sent by God to carry us!"
No one had to look to know the Wallist Church was babbling again.
"They must be from the same place as Roger, right?"
"That's my guess. Isn't he from outside the Walls?"
"Wow, the tech out there is amazing. I want to go!"
"Pathetic—fawning over outsiders!"
"What did you say?!"
The interior erupted—arguments everywhere. The sudden airships became the talk of every district.
Erwin had planned to slip away, but the sight of those odd shapes made him stop. In the distance, Hange and others were already zipping over on ODM gear.
"Looks like it won't be that simple…"
He removed his cap, shrugged off the travel coat he'd used as a disguise, and revealed the uniform beneath.
The Wings of Freedom gleamed on his chest.
He took the ODM gear a nearby soldier handed him, buckled in, and walked toward Hange.
"Full alert! Survey Corps—assemble."
He gave the order the moment he reached them.
Right then, the airships' hatches eased open.
And then—like dumping toxic waste from the sky—Marley performed high-altitude disposal: turning people into Titans and throwing them out.
Boom—boom—boom!
On roaring wind, the Titans came down like meteors, slamming hard.
Inside the Walls, no one dared keep arguing. Faces went from curious to terrified in a heartbeat.
Clutching their heads, people ducked into houses.
But Titans were too big. Even inside, there was no safety; houses were smashed to splinters by the falling bodies.
"Ahhhh!!"
One survivor, spattered with blood and limping, tried to run.
He stumbled and fell.
Darkness closed over his vision.
A jagged plank had pierced his eye when he hit the ground.
Feeling his way by touch and instinct, he found a corner and lay down.
His chest heaved—whether from exhaustion or fear. Pus-tinged blood leaked from his blinded eye, running straight down his chest.
Far off, a child cried.
Hands lifted him, dragging him free of the rubble.
When the house collapsed, the boy's mother had shielded him with her body, then forced him up through the dust-choked voids of the wreckage.
"Please! Save my child!!"
"Forget me! Save the boy first!"
"I'm begging you!"
But no one on the road stopped.
They were fleeing in panic from the Titan assault.
The Titans that had fallen from the sky were already on their feet, charging their favorite food.
People stampeded deeper inside the Walls, too frantic to notice the mother and son.
Thankfully, someone did spot them and scooped the child up.
"Thank you—thank you! Please save him!!"
The mother shouted from the hollow beneath the collapsed beams.
"What about you?" the rescuer asked.
"Just take care of my child!"
"Okay!"
The ground shook. The rescuer didn't hesitate—he ran with the child.
Moments after he left, the Titan-made tremors broke the unstable pile for good and buried her. Her voice never rose again.
The rescuer kept sprinting.
Terror tripped him; he fell amid the crowd and the child flew from his arms.
"Watch the kid!"
he shouted.
The boy wailed.
A mass of Titans surged closer.
Hands seized the man and tore him in half.
And as his body ripped—right before death—he saw the child saved.
He saw who saved him—Roger Eikam.
"Please… I'm… begging…"
He spoke around blood, pupils going wide. Then he was gone.
Roger cradled the child, slipped a finger into his mouth with practiced ease, and stilled the crying.
He grabbed a fleeing passerby and thrust the boy into his arms.
"Don't run! I'm here!"
He shouted it like a shot of adrenaline, and the panic broke.
People stopped—forming up behind Roger, staring at his back.
"Take care of the kid."
With that to the passerby, Roger walked forward—straight toward the oncoming horde of Titans, his silhouette set and unyielding.
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