Year 843 inside the Walls.
The capital.
Stohess District.
Roger flipped through a history book only scholars would bother with, circling and marking anything that seemed important.
Unlike Marley's history, the records of Paradis never mentioned the origin of Titan power. Even the three massive Walls were falsely explained as having been built by the ancestors' manpower.
As if such primitive technology could raise fifty-meter-high fortifications, flawless and even.
A lie.
Page one was a lie. Page two, the same. Page three descended straight into myth.
Nonsense about a Wall God's mercy, conjuring the three Walls from nothing to shield humanity from Titans.
What should have been sober history read like a jumble of myth and fable.
After a while, Roger lost interest.
The Founding Titan had truly wiped the memories of these people.
He closed the book. The only useful information was this:
It was winter, year 843.
Sitting back, Roger let his mind drift to memories of Marley—of clashing with other Titans as the Jaw Titan. The scenes were carved into him.
Mixed now with Reiner's memories, something struck him.
He saw Marley's decision to launch the "Founding Retrieval Plan" early, and the military's fury over the Jaw Titan's loss.
They should have waited two years, trained their new Warrior candidates further. Instead, they sent Reiner and the others early to Paradis.
With him came Annie, Bertolt, and Pieck.
The Female Titan, Colossal Titan, and Cart Titan.
Zeke, the Beast Titan, had not gone. Roger once thought that was because its power was useless. But through Reiner's memory, he saw the truth—Zeke's terrifying ability.
He could fully command Eldians who drank his spinal fluid, transforming them into Pure Titans at will.
On the battlefield, he forged them into entire armies—legions of giants charging like a tidal wave.
The sight stirred Roger as it once had Reiner.
He had hoped the world might see Marley's weakness, strike them while they were tied up in Paradis.
But the Beast Titan's power shattered that hope.
Time was short.
"No time…"
Roger pressed his temple, head aching.
Right now he was barely more than a small-time boss with a dozen men, vulnerable to Military Police raids at any moment.
And from what Reiner saw when transforming, and what Red Eye had said about Trost's lockdown, Roger could confirm: the truth—that Titans were once humans—was already exposed.
With Erwin's mind, his sharp deductions, there was no way he hadn't seen it.
Most likely, Erwin had already rallied the Walls' forces, scouring Trost house by house.
Luckily Roger had reached the capital early. Otherwise, things would have been dire. As long as Erwin lived, Roger's plans would be shackled.
For the first time, he felt humans were harder to deal with than Titans.
Knock, knock.
"Who?"
"Boss, it's Nelly. Uh… may I come in?"
"Come."
The door opened. Nelly stepped in, face pale.
"What happened?" Roger asked, gesturing him to sit.
But Nelly leaned close, whispering urgently.
"Boss, the leader of Kamen's gang is here. Do you think he's—"
"Oh?" Roger's brows relaxed. "How many men?"
"Two—no, three, one's a driver."
"Good."
Roger rose at once. Nelly grabbed his sleeve in panic.
"Boss, what are you—?!"
"Meeting a guest. If Scorpio is to grow, Kamen's gang is the perfect backer. We need them!"
"What?!" Nelly gaped as Roger strode out. "What are you thinking, boss? We just robbed his casino! Are you trying to die?!"
---
The night before, Kamen had interrogated one of his men.
That man swore someone had bribed him heavily, asking for guard uniforms to aid a heist. But he claimed loyalty to Kamen, so while he accepted the bribe, he also leaked the plan.
Kamen had been pleased then—proud of such loyalty. He even rewarded the man.
But when the trap was sprung, things went wrong.
The guards near the vault were massacred. Treasure was stolen.
Worst of all, the "Military Police" who had shown up outside were fakes—killing many of Kamen's own men.
And the thieves escaped.
Kamen's fury burned hot. He sought the culprits, demanding answers from the bribed man.
But the man stammered, claiming he didn't know their names. Enraged, Kamen hanged him on the spot.
Since then, he had visited gangs large and small, sniffing out leads.
Now, at Pete Ridoz Tavern in Stohess, he found that Red Eye's old outfit had changed its name—to "Scorpio." Its boss was a new man: Reiner Braun.
"Boss, should we drag him out for questioning? It's just a small gang."
A henchman muttered.
Kamen, though powerful, had always kept peace with other gangs. He doubted a crew this small had the guts to rob his casino. He waved it off.
"Better to recruit them. We have little hold in Stohess. Small gangs like this are easy to control. Let them grow under us."
"You're right, boss."
Moments later, the leader of Scorpio—"Reiner Braun"—came out, warm and welcoming.
"Heh. Just a bunch of punks," Kamen laughed. Suspicion eased.
The young man looked so much like Kamen himself had, back when he first entered the underworld.
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