The Marleyan officer froze mid-step, turning with suspicion in his eyes. "Warrior Captain Zeke, do you have any questions?"
"The island of Paradis is unpredictable. If we go with only this small number of men, we'll lose them too quickly. I need manpower. Just use my cerebrospinal fluid." Zeke reached calmly into his bag and pulled out a slim glass vial, filled with a faintly glowing liquid.
The officers gasped. They had heard rumors, but to see it so plainly was another matter. Zeke's spinal fluid wasn't like that of an ordinary Titan shifter.
Because of his royal blood, those injected with it would not only transform into Titans—they could be manipulated at will through his scream. A dangerous, terrifying, and uniquely valuable ability.
"That—Captain, this is against the rules!" one of the officers protested after the uneasy silence.
Zeke raised an eyebrow. "Against the rules? Nonsense. I am temporarily recruiting soldiers. As corps captain, I have the right to mobilize death row prisoners for military purposes. These wretches will serve their final purpose as Titans." He tossed the vial lightly toward the nearest officer, who caught it with trembling hands.
The man stared at the vial, his face pale. "Warrior Captain Zeke… you're not doing this just to protect them, are you? Because they're Eldians like you?"
Zeke's expression hardened, and he rolled up his sleeve to show the yellow cloth on his arm. "What are you saying? Look closely. I am an honorary Marleyan!"
The golden armband gleamed in the sun. It was supposed to be a mark of pride—proof that an Eldian had contributed enough to Marley to be "recognized." For families trapped in the internment zones, it was a ticket out, the one hope of living as near-equals among Marleyans. Parents drove their children into the Warrior program with desperate prayers that one child's sacrifice would earn their family that scrap of freedom.
But Zeke knew better.
He always had.
The yellow cloth was nothing but a brand, a visible leash. It could never be taken off. And even with it, the Marleyans would never truly change their view of him. They didn't respect Zeke because of the armband—they feared him only because of his power.
Still, appearances mattered. He let the armband glint and spoke with conviction.
The Marley officer's brow furrowed. His orders before departure were clear, execute the Eldian prisoners in front of the new recruits. The goal was to remind them of their status, to show that even Warriors were nothing but dogs at Marley's leash.
But now, Zeke was intervening. And worse, Zeke had royal blood. The higher-ups had warned them explicitly—if anyone were to rebel, it would be this man.
The officer's throat went dry. Is this it? Is he turning against us?
His mind raced. If Zeke transformed here, what chance would they have? None of the soldiers could stop him. They'd be trampled in seconds.
But… Zeke still had family in Marley. His grandparents, his fiancée, the eyes of the entire upper class upon him. Could he really betray them now, so openly?
The officer clung to that hope.
Zeke, noticing the flicker of doubt in their eyes, placed his hand firmly on his chest. His voice rang out deep and solemn. "You question me? Don't. I am loyal to Marley. Long live Marley!"
The words reverberated like a command.
The officers exhaled as if waking from a nightmare. Relief washed over their faces. Yes—no royal-blooded Eldian with backbone would bow to another Eldian. Zeke's oath was proof enough.
They straightened, raising their fists. "Long live Marley!"
The recruits, swept along by the authority of the moment, echoed loudly, "Long live Marley!" Their voices overlapped, a thunderous chorus of obedience.
But in the shadow of the gallows, the Eldian prisoners paled. Their faces twisted in despair. For them, there was no cheer, no pride, no glory—only the cruel truth that their lives were being bartered away.
Yet no one noticed their silence. The cheers drowned everything else out.
Zeke stood tall, the faintest curve on his lips, his mind already weaving the threads of a plan. If one sentence could solve a problem, why waste strength transforming into a Titan?—
After rebirth, Zeke had become sharper, more cunning.
A single phrase could buy him trust, stave off suspicion, and secure the pieces he needed for the game ahead.