"I've thought about it since I was a child—freeing the Eldians from the prison of the Walls, invading, seizing other lands.
"As for the ideas of the one hundred forty-fifth king of Fritz, I heard plenty through my parents, but I still couldn't understand them.
"Like many of the lunatics inside the Walls, I was furious that Eldians were penned up so high and tight.
"But my father didn't see it that way. He believed the Eldians were enjoying peace—and hoped that peace would last until the world had finished reckoning with our sins."
Rod Reiss' throat had been stitched shut by black flesh, but his shoulder was still skewered by an iron rod. He lay facedown, unable to move unless he tore off his left shoulder and ripped himself in half.
He told his story.
Roger Eikam crouched beside him. The black markings on his body were fading.
He couldn't maintain that state of being overrun by the black lines for long. The power was immense, but the pain was worse—as if hundreds of leeches gnawed him, a vise around his heart, like his body might be seized at any moment.
So he never used it lightly.
For now, he watched Rod and, with strained patience, listened to his "autobiography since the dawn of time."
"Get to the point."
Roger finally lost patience. His time mattered.
Rod acted as if he hadn't heard, staring with dead eyes at the Titan spinal fluid fast evaporating on the floor, lips working to squeeze out a corpse's whisper.
"…Uri, my younger brother—he hated our father's beliefs as much as I did. His aptitude surpassed mine, so he inherited the Founding Titan first, and yet… he became our father, too. No disputes with the world; only peace and quiet living.
"That confused and terrified me. Do humans wield the power of Titans—or does it enslave us? If I inherited the Founding, I feared I'd become the same. From that moment on, humanity would be forever lightless. So only I—and only I together with certain nobles and lords who know the true truth of Eldia—can truly save our people!"
Roger eyed him, skeptical.
Grand words. Neat and noble. But one thing was off.
Why must the royal family hold the Founding's power?
Do the people inside the Walls have no voice?
"Saving humanity isn't complicated, is it? Old man Rod, are you actually thinking of humanity? If so, why not make the truth of the Titans public? Why spend everything to block exploration inside the Walls?"
"Don't be absurd. A power like the Founding can't be left to foolish commoners. It must be in the hands of the elite of mankind. Isn't Marley the same? Human progress is always led by a tiny few—the very top, the true elite."
"Then if I've beaten you, doesn't that make me the elite of the elite? Handing the Founding to me would be only proper, no?"
"…"
Rod had expected anger, a rebuttal. He hadn't expected this. He choked, at a loss for words.
After a moment, he managed, "Forgive me. Only the royal family can inherit the Founding."
"That so? Shame."
Roger pretended to yield, then tossed out a question that froze Rod for a beat.
"Who is Jean Fritz? Since she bears the royal surname, she should be of Eldian royalty, right? You just asked me if I knew her—what exactly did you mean by that?"
"…Nothing." Rod's face twitched, but he held it. "Merely an ancestor lost outside the Walls."
"So you admit she's of royal blood?"
"So what?"
Rod answered flatly—and regretted saying the name "Jean Fritz" at all.
He had assumed Roger—so like "Jean" in the face—was Jean Fritz's son, her blood.
He hadn't expected Roger not to know her.
Now that Roger pressed the point, Rod feared he'd sniff something out.
If he learned there might be a lost royal outside the Walls, he would go rabid for the Founding, stop at nothing—even butcher every royal inside the Walls.
Then…
His bastard daughter, Historia—the only vessel inside the Walls fit to bear the Founding—would be in danger!
If she were exposed, everything would be lost!
He had to steer away—
"Ah, that…"
"My mother's name is 'Jean.'"
Roger spoke it calmly. Rod froze—like a man certain of victory suddenly checkmated in a handful of moves, the planned words jammed behind his teeth.
"W-what?"
He gave a thin laugh; his mouth twitched.
Roger didn't explain further. He slipped a hand to his neck and tugged his undershirt collar out.
On the inner collar, a single character had been stitched:
[琴] (Jean)
At the sight, sweat drenched Rod's back.
"How… Miss Pieck said… you were an orphan some old man picked up—heh… heh…"
Rod's face curdled. He lifted his head, dog-like, staring up at Roger.
Roger's expression stayed flat, as if he'd anticipated all of this.
"Ah…" As if the game were already lost, Rod hissed, unhinged. "So that's it. Outsiders truly can't be trusted. So be it…"
His voice shook; his body trembled; for all his years, his eyes brimmed.
His fingers clawed the floor. Realizing it was over, he hardened his heart, heaved with everything he had—and ripped apart his left shoulder and flank, flinging his right side toward the spinal fluid!
"AAAAAAAH!!"
He screamed through the pain.
Just before his heart stopped, his right side plunged face-first into the Titan spinal fluid.
Brows, beard, hair soaked in it, his face twisted; his tongue lolled, tip smeared in the liquid.
Boom!
Golden light burst from his seven orifices!
The power of the Titans raced through the Paths into Rod's mangled body—monstrous in volume!
A colossal spine swelled and slammed against the ceiling of the underground prison!
Limbs sprawled; flesh layered and climbed—more and more—until it filled the entire space. And it kept growing—fast!
Crushed into nowhere, Roger realized his miscalculation.
Who would've thought that cowardly Rod could bear the pain and tear himself apart?
In that brief gap, Roger shoved the collar back in place.
Behind [Jean] on the stitch, the next word was actually [Eikam], not [Fritz].
He'd bluffed—and Rod had folded immediately.
"At least it proves it—Mother really was of the royal line. And I do have the standing to inherit the Founding. In that case…" Roger smiled. "Things are about to get interesting."
He spoke, bit his finger, and summoned the power of the Titan.
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