Roger had never seen such chaos.
Without the protection of the Wall, humanity was nothing more than lambs to the slaughter. One after another, they were plucked up by giant hands and shoved into gaping maws, heads crushed, bodies chewed apart.
Blood mixed with saliva dribbled from the corners of Titans' mouths, running down their chests, reflecting red in the sunlight. Even in the middle of killing, they smiled, walked casually, their twisted faces making it seem like a leisurely stroll, a pleasant meal.
Witnessing family and friends torn apart, people lost their minds. Some still had the strength to run, but many more lacked even the courage to flee. They collapsed to their knees, offering valuables, even children, begging these human-shaped monsters to spare them.
The Titans paid no attention.
They lived for killing, found joy in devouring.
A group of Titans closed in, blocking escape routes, snatching humans up one by one like poultry, stuffing them into their mouths, tearing bodies until entrails spilled free, until spines snapped, until intestines dangled—then crammed them all into their mouths to be shredded, bitten through, chewed to pulp.
In the distance, a boulder smashed through a house, collapsing the beams, crushing people beneath.
Cries for help rang out, voices ragged, searing, enough to make one's heart tremble.
Roger pushed against the tide of fleeing refugees.
To avoid being trampled to death, he shoved those about to collide with him aside, forcing a narrow path through.
"Hey! Kid! It's dangerous!!"
A voice called out.
Glancing back, Roger saw Garrison soldiers at the gate, trying to direct the evacuation.
Hange had once explained the regiments to him, and told him the Garrison took many of the top trainees. But looking at their overweight frames, Roger saw the truth. They wore ODM gear like the Scouts, but still ran clumsily on foot. A few flew, but awkwardly. Nothing like the Survey Corps.
In this chaos, they could barely protect themselves—let alone save anyone else.
"Useless."
Roger spat the word and moved on.
All he wanted now was to find the inheritor of the Colossal Titan—the one who had kicked in the Wall—and take that power.
In his memory, the Colossal's inheritor was Bertholdt. If nothing had changed, he should have inherited it by now. The last generation of Warriors had nearly reached their end, and new candidates weren't so easily trained in short time.
So all he had to do was spot his face among the refugees.
Impossible.
Ignoring the threat of Pure Titans, there were too many faces. Even if he looked until he went blind, he might never find Bertholdt.
Unless…
What if the Jaw Titan appeared?
As a nation built on conquering with Titan power, Marley would never forgive losing the Jaw Titan. They'd want Roger flayed alive, but failing to find him, they'd rush to seize the Founding Titan instead—to stop Roger from turning the Jaw Titan against them.
That the plan was deployed so quickly only showed Marley's desperation.
The loss of the Jaw Titan must have been the spark that pushed them into action.
And so the Warrior unit, tasked with claiming the Founding, would also be searching for the missing Jaw Titan.
If they wanted to remain hidden inside the Walls, they wouldn't expose themselves without reason.
The Jaw Titan appearing might be reason enough. But if they ignored it?
"Then I'll force them out."
Roger slipped behind a house. Using its cover, he slashed his palm with his dagger.
A golden bolt of lightning crashed down, flooding him with power. Flesh and bone wrapped him, fangs and claws locking into place—the Jaw Titan rising again around him.
"ROAR—!"
The bellow drew every eye.
People stopped running, staring toward the Jaw Titan.
Roger charged toward the Wall's breach, ripping into Titans along the way, snapping their napes, dropping them in heaps.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
One after another, Titans fell.
Inside the Jaw Titan's nape, Roger silently counted.
If enough time passed without Bertholdt or the others showing, he'd dash through the breach, then re-enter under cover of night.
For the Jaw Titan, that was nothing.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Three.
The number of Titans dwindled—almost gone.
And then—
Another golden bolt split the sky.
Fifteen meters tall. White hair. Armored from head to toe.
The Armored Titan stood behind the Jaw Titan, roaring.
Thud. Thud.
Roger stopped, standing atop the corpses, turning to face him.
Two intelligent Titans, glaring. One with fists clenched, the other with jaws bared.
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