"Warrior Captain Zeke! Please explain your reasons for recruiting soldiers. I must report this to His Majesty truthfully!" The Marley officer's voice trembled with both respect and caution, his salute of "Long live the emperor!" still hanging in the air.
Zeke didn't flinch. "It's a long journey from the coast to the walls. Along the way, we'll encounter unpredictable dangers. That's why I require the death row prisoners. They will walk ahead, scouting the path for us. Their sacrifice will ensure my squad reaches the Walls safely."
The officer's brows knitted together. "Why did you not say this earlier? There are already more than a dozen prisoners marching ahead. Why speak up now?"
Zeke's tone sharpened. "Because only those with a genuine desire to survive can fulfill their role on a dangerous battlefield. Fear alone is not enough. Desperation is power."
The officer scoffed, throwing a glance at the trembling inmates. "Desire to live? You call this pathetic display a desire? Look at them—they're frozen, too scared to even choose their fate!"
Zeke's golden eyes fixed on the condemned. "No. That fear is precisely proof they still cling to life. They won't give up until the very last second." He stepped forward, his voice cutting through their despair like a blade. "Tell me—do you still want to live?"
"YES!" The words burst out of the prisoners' throats, raw and frantic.
But one woman faltered, her voice cracking. "What's the point? Even if we say yes, won't we still be injected with spinal fluid? Won't we still turn into Titans? What use is it to ask us this?"
Zeke's expression softened with calculated empathy. "Think of your family, young lady. You were brought here for your crimes, but your family still suffers because of your shame. This is your chance to redeem that. Use what life remains to fight for Marley. Give them glory to remember you by."
The effect was immediate. Their faces shifted. At the mention of family, their trembling hardened into resolve. Family was everyone's weakness. Everyone's anchor.
"I—I'll do it!" one prisoner cried, his voice desperate and fierce. "If you promise my family can become honorary Marleyans, I'll go first! Make me the vanguard—I'll carve a path with my life!"
The others erupted. For months, they had been starved, beaten, and degraded. But here—here was a thread of hope, however thin. To die in chains was meaningless.
To die for Marley, with their families honored, was salvation.
Zeke let their hunger for hope grow, feeding it carefully. Then he smiled, calm and deliberate. "I will apply for this honor for you."
The officer stepped forward hastily. "I will personally inform His Majesty!"
Zeke inclined his head in approval, then turned back to the prisoners. "Tell me your names. Marley will remember them."
The condemned straightened, their voices ringing out proudly, as though summoned into history itself.
"Andy Das!"
"Seema… John!" The lone woman hesitated, but forced her name out.
"The Empire will always remember you." Zeke's tone was solemn as he gestured to the officers.
"Inject them."
As the soldiers approached with syringes, Zeke continued, his words flowing like a teacher guiding eager students: "Listen carefully. My spinal fluid is unlike others. Once injected, you will not transform immediately. Instead, you will remain as you are until you hear my roar. Only then will you become Titans. And unlike the mindless beasts below, you will obey my command. You will fight with purpose."
Seema's pale lips trembled, but her eyes shone with something almost like pride. "Then… after I become a Titan, I can still serve Marley?"
"Yes!" another prisoner, Andy, shouted. His voice cracked but carried conviction. "I never thought I would have a second chance. Mother, can you hear me? I will bring you glory! Thank you, Marley! Thank you, great King of Marley! Thank you, Warrior Captain Zeke!"
Their cries swelled, each voice burning with desperation disguised as devotion. To anyone watching, they looked like martyrs—ready to be immortalized for Marley.
Zeke, however, remained untouched. His face betrayed nothing but the faintest shadow of contempt. He listened to their gratitude as if it were nothing but the bleating of cattle walking into the slaughterhouse.
The officers worked quickly, plunging the needles into flesh, injecting his spinal fluid. One by one, the condemned stiffened, the fluid spreading cold fire through their veins.
At last, the officer straightened, wiping his brow. "Warrior Captain Zeke, the preparations are complete. Please… begin the transformation."
All eyes turned to Zeke. He raised his hand, his teeth poised against his knuckle. His mouth opened, breath held—then paused. His eyes flicked sideways, toward the officers.
"You are certain you want me to roar here?" His voice was low, deliberate. The question hung heavy in the air.
The silence that followed pressed down like thunder about to break.