Roger had timed it out in his head—at the warship's speed, the journey from Marley to Paradis Island had taken only four hours.
If he could learn the vessel's average speed, he might estimate the distance between Marley and the island.
But Roger knew nothing of ships, not even the model he rode upon. His calculations went nowhere.
Why think of such things at all?
Not caution, but boredom.
There wasn't another living soul aboard.
Only that brown-furred ape, lying in its cage, alternating between flipping through girly magazines and playing with itself, ignoring every attempt Roger made to rile it.
At least Paradis was finally before him. Soon, he could leave this emptiness behind.
He scavenged the vessel, taking anything useful with him.
Now, survival on Paradis was the only concern.
"They say the army always injects rebellious Eldians with titan spinal fluid, sending them here as mindless titans."
So Roger recalled as he stepped off onto the sand.
Scanning the shore, he found no signs of titan activity.
Had they all been drawn inward toward the Walls? he wondered, glancing at the dawn sky.
The sun had just broken the horizon.
Dim but steady light spread across the land.
Roger knew mindless titans did not move at night.
But now it was day.
If the titans had truly gathered at the Walls, then the outskirts might still be safe.
With that thought, Roger decided to climb the nearest high ground—a slope rising above the shore—to get a lay of the land.
Old warrior training habits at work.
The climb stirred memories of his candidate days in Marley.
Relentless drills had honed him into a weapon.
He'd never known why his scores had outstripped the others. In every test, especially under pressure, he performed beyond expectations—opposite to most.
But he had his weak spots.
Written exams on combat theory.
He never once wrote an answer correctly.
He remembered Magath's rebuke:
"Roger, what you've written is impossible. To do this, you'd need titan power. Yet you're still human. You say you can move a hundred meters in five seconds. Do you know how far that is?"
"One hundred meters."
"One hundred meters? You're claiming twenty meters a second?"
"Yes, Commander Magath, I once, when extremely angry—"
"Enough. Stop making excuses. You've failed this subject. Next, Reiner Braun."
"…"
Yet later, in a sprint test, Roger had stunned everyone with a 4.86-second hundred meters.
After that, Magath could no longer meet his eyes.
The memory made Roger smile.
"Those days were good."
His thoughts swirled—until that rainy night, when everything ended.
"Marley is doomed to ruin," he muttered, gazing from the slope's crest across the land.
He had heard other candidates grumble about Marley's militarism back then, but he hadn't cared.
He only wanted a better life for himself and his grandmother.
That was why he fought to become a titan warrior.
Until his leg was shattered in malice.
And his grandmother was murdered by Marley and the traitor Anderson.
The breeze touched his face, and Roger's eyes grew wet.
He remembered childhood.
Clutching his grandmother's hem as she bent her frail frame in the market, shouted at by sneering Marleyans.
Later he understood—they were Marleyans, the higher race.
Every day, they dumped unsold produce into the Eldian district to "feed the pigs."
Simple food, fresher than anything in the internment zone, yet unreachable for Eldians.
Too poor to buy, his grandmother picked scraps.
And afterward, she would stroke his head and repeat her words:
"Don't be reckless."
"Don't cause trouble. Don't owe favors."
"Endure."
She wanted him to protect himself. Roger understood.
"But they went too far, Grandma." His fists clenched. "I couldn't give you a good life. I'm ashamed. But now—I won't suffer quietly. Whoever dares touch me, I'll kill, even if it costs me my life!"
If she were alive, she would call him young and foolish.
But he knew himself.
He would weigh risks carefully. Never reckless—but never yielding.
The thought faded. He looked outward again.
In the distance, titans appeared.
"One, two…"
Two of them, circling a tree endlessly.
Abnormals, he guessed. Otherwise, they'd have wandered inward already.
The sun had risen fully. By his estimate, eight or nine in the morning.
"I'll move tonight."
So he decided, and descended the slope.
But when he reached the shore, the warship was gone, its anchor lifted.
He wasn't surprised.
A ghost ship, crewless—and with an ape who could… entertain itself.
"Shame, though," he sighed. "I meant to repay the ape with a few apples."
He placed four wild fruits he'd gathered on the ground.
Four fruits, four apples. Not one missing.
Roger never left debts unpaid, not even to an ape.
"Now the only debt left is to Mr. Niaolin."
But who was he? How had he summoned Marley's airship and a ghost ship?
That answer would wait.
For now, he had to reach the Walls.
To find the Founding.
"Marley's next move must be to seize it. If they get there first, everything will return to hell."
So he resolved, turning inland.
The two abnormals still circled the tree.
Roger thought of approaching. To hunt one, and test the Jaw Titan's true power.
He sliced his palm with the knife.
Boom!!
A golden bolt split the sky, and the Jaw Titan's power surged through the Paths into Roger's body.
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