Blindness.
Both eyes had gone dark.
Roger felt his body slam into the ground, his skull aching for a moment—then nothing. No pain.
Not just in his head. His hands, his feet—he couldn't feel anything.
"Damage to my cerebellum?"
Panic stirred. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life as a vegetable.
With sight gone, all he had left was blackness. His nose, mouth, ears—no smell, no taste, no sound.
What was happening?
"Am I dead?"
He muttered aloud, though he didn't know if his mouth had even formed the words.
Then, suddenly, a light flickered in the darkness.
A point of focus. He turned toward it.
It unfolded into a moving reel, images playing like film.
A bloodstained military uniform laid beside a hearth.
Children's toys scattered on a table—a teddy bear, a toy revolver.
A crude drawing of people locked in slaughter.
Roger couldn't understand any of it.
Then fire tore the images apart, consuming them to ash.
And new visions emerged.
A short-haired girl—the one he had once glimpsed in Anderson's memory—slashing her palm with a knife, transforming into a Titan. Was that the Attack Titan?
A ghost ship sent by Bird Forest, with Singe prostrating before a shadowy figure, bowing in reverence.
And then the simplest vision—stars burning in a galaxy, some brightening, some fading to nothing. The remaining lights shaped themselves into a constellation. Scorpio.
What did it mean?
Roger had no idea.
Why was the Attack Titan in Anderson's memory?
Why did Singe kneel before a shadow?
Why did the galaxy collapse into only Scorpio?
Before he could grasp it, the vision changed again.
This time, a memory.
A stranger held his own heart in his hands, offering it to Roger.
Then thousands more faces followed, countless strangers, one by one, surrendering their hearts.
Behind them lay ruins stretching into the horizon.
The vision ended.
Suddenly, his senses rushed back—sight, smell, sound.
His limbs tingled again, and he felt the ground beneath his feet. His arms, however, were bound tight, wrists pinned behind a chair.
"—Hah!"
He sucked in air. The dim light showed him a sealed chamber. No windows. No furniture. Just two lamps and the wooden chair binding him.
Not far ahead stood Vice Commander Erwin, Commander Keith, and Squad Leader Hange.
Further back, men waited, guarding against escape.
They had locked him up.
Roger finally understood.
But why?
Where had he slipped?
He lowered his head. A bucket of water sat at his feet, but he wasn't wet.
So they hadn't roused him with cold water.
They'd been waiting for him to "wake."
That meant this wasn't torture. At least, not yet.
"What are you doing?"
Someone had to speak first. Since they stayed silent, Roger would. He needed to gauge their intentions, find an opening.
Keith glanced at Erwin.
Erwin's face was unreadable.
"You just single-handedly killed five Titans. Two large, three small. For the same result, we would need at least half a regiment of elite soldiers—and even then, we'd expect heavy losses."
"So?"
"So, who are you really? You clearly knew Titans' weak point is the nape. And…" Erwin's voice rose, "you knew the nape of a ten-meter Titan is thick, didn't you, Roger?"
"…"
Roger froze. The realization hit him hard.
This man was dangerous.
"With the length of an ODM blade, even if you buried it fully, it wouldn't deal lethal damage. Unless… you pushed deeper. Past the hand, the wrist, even the forearm. Only then could you destroy the nape. And you seemed to know that instinctively, Roger."
Erwin's reasoning cut clean. Keith, beside him, knew it was true—years of fighting had taught him the same.
But how could Roger know? That was why Erwin had gone straight to inspect the corpses.
Keith silently cursed—of course it was Erwin who caught it.
Hange had kept quiet, though she had harbored doubts. She simply lacked Erwin's urgency.
Roger knew it. He'd slipped.
But walk along the river long enough, and your shoes will get wet.
"I really don't know. I only wanted to kill the Titans, nothing more. As for why I fought like that… it was impulse, instinct. Forgive me, I caused trouble."
"…"
Erwin's brows furrowed. Not so easy to crack.
"Then tell us about when you were swallowed," he pressed. "Hall's squad saw burns on your hands. Now they're gone. And the strange marks on your face—they looked like burns too, didn't they, Hange?"
"…Yes," Hange admitted. "Back then, he avoided answering. His eyes were evasive. I've interrogated enough to know—Roger, you're no liar."
So it all came back to the marks.
"And what do you think they mean?" Roger smiled thinly.
Erwin's eyes darkened. He asked the question that haunted him most.
"Roger, are you from beyond the Walls? Is there human life out there?"
"Answer honestly," Keith urged. "We desperately hope to find others outside. To unite with them. To fight the Titans together."
Roger only laughed.
Unite? Fight Titans?
Ha.
"You really go too far. If I am guilty, then kill me. Don't waste time doubting me. If this is to avenge the five Titans I slew, then strike me down now. In doing so, we'll be even."
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