Roger sat on the bed in his cell.
Behind him, the bedding had been folded into a perfectly neat square, not a single crease in sight.
But with each thunderous impact of the shells, even that clean blanket was gradually dusted over by灰 falling from the ceiling.
He stared at the floor for a long time. Then, at last, Roger heard the roar of artillery again.
The third barrage had begun.
The screams—horrific beyond words—rang out once more, chilling the spine and flooding the heart with terror.
Yet Roger ignored it all.
He stood and walked out of the cell.
In the prison corridor leading to the exit, faint Founding markings surfaced at the corners of Roger's eyes.
He walked slowly.
So slow. So slow.
Only when his pupils turned a vivid, icy blue did he finally reach the prison gate.
He reached out, pushed open the half-latched iron door, and squinted into the outside world.
He'd been locked in a lightless prison for far too long. Stepping into bright daylight all at once made his eyes rebel.
He kept squinting until the doubled images finally faded.
Everything sharpened—though thick smoke and swirling dust still blanketed the scene like a heavy haze.
But some things were unmistakable.
For instance… the dead.
For instance… the ruins.
The ground shuddered. Shells fell around the prison, pulverizing streets and houses into dust.
Roger blinked and saw a bell tower blasted into pieces, and people buried alive beneath collapsed buildings.
He didn't flinch.
He didn't flinch at all.
He only looked up at the sky, watching dense black specks rain down.
As though he were watching a storm—coldly pouring over land he had once protected.
Images surfaced in his mind: the days he served as the Jaw Titan, repairing the Walls for the people inside.
The moment he fought like hell to stop Rod Reiss's Titan from committing even greater atrocities.
The moment he took over the War Hammer and brought down the Colossal.
All of it spun through his head, looping, refusing to leave.
Amid the screams in his ears, Roger suddenly felt… tired.
He sat down again, right there on the prison steps.
He was exhausted.
He'd done it all for the people inside the Walls—only to be treated like a monster. Locked up, and then, when they needed him, summoned like a tool.
No one trusted him. No one ever thought about him.
Only when disaster struck did they remember he existed.
The artillery grew denser.
The screams grew quieter.
Flames surged into the sky, and the towns inside the Walls were reduced to nothing.
There were few survivors left.
Many people, trying to escape the inferno, threw themselves into the river—only to drown when their strength gave out.
Soon, the gate was thrown wide.
The Survey Corps and the Military Police mounted warhorses with their eyes covered and ears plugged, and charged out in a desperate, suicidal rush.
But the World Allied Forces weren't pushovers either. The moment they saw the people inside the Walls finally come out to fight, they immediately deployed their tank units.
Infantry spread out. Tank companies pushed to the front.
Under covering fire, the tanks revved their engines and smashed straight into the cavalry formations of the Survey Corps and the Military Police.
In an instant, it was like a drop of ink spilled into clear water.
Within moments, a handful of tanks tore the two corps apart into chaos.
The blades in the soldiers' hands were perfect for cutting down Titans—but against tank armor, they were no more than scratching an itch, leaving not even a mark.
RATATATATATAT!
Machine-gun fire raked through them. With no protective gear, the soldiers from inside the Walls were butchered—shot off their horses, then crushed into pulp beneath treads.
"AAAAAAAH!!"
"Help!!"
"What the hell is that thing?!"
They wailed, breaking and retreating.
But at that moment, the commander shouted an order just in time:
"Everyone! Use ODM gear! Scatter!"
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh!
Grappling lines fired. Every soldier launched off their horse, following the main force as they vanished into the forest.
The sight left the World Allied Forces stunned.
"They can all fly?!"
"What kind of monsters are these?"
"At least they don't use guns."
"Wait—!!!"
"They're coming in!!"
Use horses to close distance, slip into the forest, then use ODM gear to crash into the enemy camp.
That was the tactic Hange had designed.
It would come with horrifying casualties—but it was the only option they had.
Against absolute technological domination, the weaker side could only win by playing to its strengths and avoiding its weaknesses.
So they plunged into the woods.
Inside the forest, tanks were restricted. Their massive bodies couldn't maneuver freely; they clogged the perimeter and stalled.
Seeing this, the allied artillery immediately adjusted their aim toward the forest, ready to blast the trees—and everyone in them—into shredded scraps.
But before they could fire, the Survey Corps soldiers shot into the infantry formations near the forest at a blistering fifty meters per second.
Blades flashing, they roared through the air, cutting down soldier after soldier who tried to raise their rifles!
"Fall back!!!"
The infantry line collapsed into chaos, completely disoriented by the attackers swooping through the smoke and trees.
"Deploy smoke!" Hange shouted mid-flight.
At once, the Survey Corps pulled smoke bombs from their gear and hurled them to the ground.
In moments, smoke swallowed the entire camp.
Using the smoke as cover, Hange led her people according to plan—at any cost—straight toward the hill where the artillery was positioned.
The artillerymen were blind in the fog, fumbling in panic. With nothing visible, they were effectively stripped of their ability to fight.
And that was when Hange and her squad hit them.
"Let you taste our blades, too!" she yelled, cutting down artilleryman after artilleryman without mercy.
Armin and Moblit followed close behind.
As the commander's adjutants, they never left her side.
Especially Moblit—he had already made up his mind to take a shell for Commander Hange if it came to that.
Only Armin couldn't bring himself to do it.
He looked at the living people in front of him—faces no different from those inside the Walls—and no matter what, he couldn't bring himself to stain his hands with blood.
"What's different about us?!" he demanded, burning with hatred.
Why?!
Why did they have to kill the people inside the Walls?!
We… we haven't even sat down and talked like human beings!!!
Because his mind wandered, because he hesitated, Armin's grip faltered—just for an instant—and someone seized his wrist, yanking him out of the air.
"Die! All of you devils!!!"
The man glared at Armin with vicious hatred, forcing the rifle barrel into his mouth with all his strength.
Hearing that, Armin finally snapped.
"You're the devils!!" he shouted, every muscle in his body straining.
They gritted their teeth, glaring, each trying to kill the other—
And then, at that moment…
Slash!
A streak of white flashed past.
The soldier in front of Armin was split clean in two.
Blood poured down like a torrential rain, drenching Armin from head to toe. He stared blankly as his ears rang, the world spinning.
Only one voice cut through with absolute clarity.
"Titans or humans… they're all filthy creatures—reeking everywhere, from head to toe."
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