Roger buried the bodies of the fallen Survey Corps soldiers on the spot. As payment, he took their vertical maneuvering gear and their uniforms.
After a quick inspection, he found that more than half of the gear was faulty—rusted mechanisms, depleted gas.
He sorted out a few functional sets and dismantled the rest, taking the gas canisters with him.
After eating his midday meal by the ravine, Roger didn't dare rest too long. He picked up the gear, then transformed into the Jaw Titan and rushed toward the wall.
Inside the walls, humanity was still suffering under waves of invading Titans. Roger wanted to climb up to the top, but he wasn't sure if anyone was stationed there.
If they were, he would have to kill them.
To avoid getting bogged down with Pure Titans, Roger pushed the Jaw Titan into a sprint, reaching the wall in minutes.
Nearby lay the breach kicked in by the Colossal Titan. The passage was lined with what looked like ashes—remnants of dead Titans Roger had once piled there to "patch" the wall.
Though the bodies had long evaporated, they left behind a layer of ash that wouldn't disperse so quickly.
Glancing at his own handiwork, Roger turned to leave, but something nagged at him.
From above, small fragments kept dropping.
Stones?
No… they looked like Titan bones.
He examined the ash more closely.
The surface was trampled with countless chaotic Titan footprints.
Normal enough.
But something wasn't.
Roger picked up a Titan finger bone that had fallen into the ash. Through the steam of evaporation, he looked up—
And froze.
A Titan corpse was pinned to the top of the breach!
It had been dead for a long time, its flesh gone, only its skeleton slowly disintegrating, bones falling bit by bit.
"How?"
Roger frowned.
There was no way that Titan had crawled up there and died on its own.
When the steam cleared somewhat, he climbed up with the Jaw Titan, fixing his claws into the wall.
He discovered a spear had pierced the Titan's chest, pinning it in place. It wasn't human-made. Not wood, not iron—but some crystal-like material, opaque and alien.
Clinging tight, Roger ripped the spear out.
It wasn't a crude shaft like he expected. It was a real spear, sharp-tipped, with a precisely crafted head—though shorter than most, more like an oversized arrow.
The maker had been casual, but the workmanship spoke of mastery, like a blacksmith with decades of skill forging perfectly by instinct.
Another Titan was approaching. Roger glanced at it, then leapt from the breach, landing below with the Jaw Titan.
Turning the spear in his hand, he considered keeping it. But before he got far, the weapon began to evaporate.
So—that was it.
It was dissolving because it had been created by a Titan.
But which Titan could create weapons like this?
"The War Hammer Titan of the Tybur family?"
Roger sighed.
The Tyburs had stayed in hiding for years. He didn't know their true abilities. But out of the Nine, only the War Hammer could make such a weapon.
Why had it come here?
"Not to be my friend, that's certain."
He shrugged, dropped the fading spear, and began climbing the wall.
As he neared the top, he listened carefully for signs of Garrison soldiers. But after several cautious checks, he found no one there—no cannons, no defenses.
That set his mind at ease.
"Well, the Garrison's gotten that rotten. Not impossible they left it unguarded."
He dispelled his Titan form and strapped on the maneuvering gear.
No Pure Titan could climb up here, and with Shiganshina fallen, the humans had no time to care about this place.
He rested briefly, leaning against the Jaw Titan's steaming corpse for warmth, gazing inward across the walls.
Just as Marley's military said, there were three great walls: Maria, Rose, and Sina. Each surrounded by inner gates, forming walled buffer zones.
To release Titans inside fully, at least six walls had to be breached.
And aside from gates, destroying a wall was terrifyingly risky.
Roger knew that within the wall beneath his feet, a Titan as tall as the Colossal was sealed in place.
Dozens of them, standing together, formed the wall itself.
If one was exposed to sunlight, it could awaken, triggering an uncontrollable chain of Titans breaking free—an apocalyptic collapse.
Only the Founding Titan could control them.
Roger knew he lacked Fritz royal blood, so he could not command them. But he also could not allow Marley to obtain it.
They were rumored to control a royal bloodline—that was why they lusted after the Founding power.
True or not, the Coordinate was the key in the struggle between him and Marley.
If Marley obtained it, not just Paradis, but the world would be under their heel.
Still…
"I don't understand how Holos killed the 145th King Fritz. With such a power, how did he lose?" Roger muttered, staring down.
Unless…
Perhaps Holos was like Mr. Birdlin, a mysterious being beyond comprehension.
One day, he would find Birdlin and get the answers.
By dusk, the sky was glowing red, the land silent.
Roger awoke refreshed.
"Time to slip inside the walls."
If he didn't claim the Founding before the Warrior Unit, he was doomed.
Dressed in Survey Corps uniform, Roger leapt from the sixty-meter wall.
His fingers pulled the triggers, gas hissed from the canisters, hooks spun out, latching into stone. The fan-blades at his waist spun, reeling in cables, propelling him forward—
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