Marley.
Tybur family compound.
General Benson Tybur stared mutely at a Tybur sentry before him for a very, very long time.
"General, sir!" the sentry finally couldn't help shouting. "You've been staring at me so long I can't do my post!"
"Oh."
Understanding, Benson gave a small nod.
His white moustache twitched. He took the Tybur elders' traditional cap from his head and tossed it into a nearby bin like a used tissue.
Behind him, ever-attentive Torin Eikum darted over, fished the elder's cap out of the trash, and carefully put it away.
Just then, Benson Tybur spoke.
"Mr. Torin."
"I'm here, General Benson Tybur."
"Oh, so you are." Benson chuckled, scratching his head like a mischievous child.
"I've always been here. I do not stray," Torin said silently in his heart, head bowed in submission.
"Ah, that's good~"
Benson suddenly laughed and rubbed his brow. A small red bump sat dead center between his eyebrows, glaringly out of place, though he seemed not to mind.
"What are your orders, General?"
"None," Benson said—then, two seconds later, changed his tone. "No, there is. Something very important."
"Please command me. If it lies within Torin's power, I will give my life without hesitation."
"Ah—" The old man's face wrinkled up, as if he'd smelled something foul. "Torin… do you remember the past?"
"The past?"
"Yes. Back then." He smiled, weathered and weary, looking out at the Tybur guards encircling the courtyard. "You remember that day, yes? The rain was coming down hard. You fell in the street. I pulled you up and took in a stray."
"I remember it well. I will never forget your kindness, General!"
"That's not necessary." Benson waved a hand. "I only hope that when I'm dead, you'll keep helping Roger and fulfill my last wish."
"General! You must not speak of death!"
"Perhaps." Benson smiled mildly, stepped into the main hall, took a sword from the wall, and handed it to Torin behind him. "When the day comes that he finds you, give him this sword. You must."
Torin received the sword and bowed deep.
Up close, the blade was swaddled in black cloth; the sword itself was white and keen, a red gem set in the guard, a length of chain hanging from the pommel.
"I will."
"Oh, and this key." Benson took the key from his neck and held it out to Torin.
"This is…?" Torin asked, puzzled.
"The secret room. You know the one," Benson said.
"Ah? General—" Torin started.
"Wait!"
Before Torin could ask what he needed to ask, a number of sentries marched in from outside and snatched the key from the general's hand.
"What are you doing?! This is gross disrespect!"
Torin roared.
Several burly sentries rushed him, trying to seize the sword. He reversed his grip, drove the blade through one, and took his head in the same motion.
Seeing the balding, one-eyed old man cut so fiercely, the guards fell back in fear—but the key was already in their hands.
"Forgive us! We're under orders!"
"Whose orders?"
"Willy Tybur, the young family head!"
"Hah! My dear nephew again." Benson laughed. "Take the key, then—but guard it well. Don't let it fall into enemy hands."
"Enough talk! Where's the secret room?!"
"One more question, and I, Torin, on my life's honor, guarantee you'll leave not even a corpse to bury."
At the side, the one-eyed Torin brought both hands to the hilt, lifted into a high guard—the opening stance of a dueling swordsman. Upper third. Initiate. Kill. The pressure was murderous.
The guards recoiled in a panic. They dared not provoke him again. Dozens of them gave ground before a single one-eyed middle-aged man, afraid to lose their lives.
"No wonder they call you the Eikum embedded deep in Marley," the leader sneered, retreating step by step. "General Tybur, we'll meet again."
"We will not," Benson said, eyes smiling.
The sentries fled over each other to get out.
"My apologies for the disturbance, General."
Torin bowed low, begging pardon.
"It's nothing. Withdraw for now, Mr. Torin. I need rest," Benson said. "That sword—I'm entrusting it to you."
"I understand. Rest easy."
Torin slowly backed away.
He took one last look at his master, lingering on that red bump at the man's brow.
The next day, Torin slid the general's chamber door open, as always.
Benson Tybur already lay dead upon his bed, a strange, tendril-like filament clenched in his hand.
Blood leaked from the hole in his brow and soaked half the bed red.
Torin bowed to the floor and remained there a long, long time.
Paradis Island.
Ramparts of Wall Sina.
The Colossus-class Titan's remains had long since steamed away, and Roger had returned to normal.
The Female Titan came along the Wall's edge and stopped before Roger.
She crouched and set the Colossal Titan's host, Bertolt, down upon the stones.
Rising again, she looked across at Roger Eikam a short distance away.
After devouring the War Hammer Titan, Roger's stamina had recovered. He looked back at the Female Titan as she moved toward him.
They shared no words.
The prison melted. Freed, Levi rolled his stiff shoulders and eyed the Female Titan.
Far off, Erwin finally ceased watching and gave the order to advance.
They would help whoever won.
Roger had felled that Titan, and it put steel in their spines.
So they chose to keep faith with Roger.
The people of the Rose District stared up at the Titans on the Wall, speechless.
Suddenly, the wind shifted. The Female Titan broke into a sprint, charging Roger.
Roger immediately sliced his palm open with a blade he'd scooped from the ground. He shoved his trusted lieutenant Tours aside and braced himself to fight to the death.
But what he never imagined was—
The Female Titan didn't attack him at all. She ran straight past—straight for what lay behind him!
They brushed shoulders. Roger lifted his head, watching the Female Titan and Pieck Finger upon her shoulder recede.
Just then, Bertolt came arcing in on ODM, his tall body slamming toward Roger!
WHAM!!
Roger's reaction was sharp. He met both hands with both hands, clamped down, and stopped Bertolt's motion cold.
"Long time no see, Roger.
"Hope I can still recognize you after you're ash.
"Don't you think so, you bastard who killed Reiner and Marcel?!"
He snarled and crushed down on Roger's grip.
Roger's senses spiked—thick, viscous blood seeped from the man's palms.
This—
This is—
"This is the Colos—"
Before Roger could finish, a blaze of gold swallowed everything around Bertolt. In almost the same instant, shockwaves howled and kicked, the ground detonated and powdered to dust.
Flames devoured every living thing, chewing them to nothing.
The Wall split and shuddered on the edge of collapse.
Everyone was blown clear, tumbling from the fifty-meter height.
Before that world-shaking blast, human screams were smaller than gnats.
Moments later, a mushroom cloud climbed into the sky.
Moments later, smoke and dust roared upward.
A thunderous groan rolled out—and a giant head loomed within the cloud…
And Roger?
Fire swallowed him whole, right at the blast's exact center.
Unmoving, he slowly opened his eyes as his skin seared and split, his limbs melting away to nothing.
"Ah…
"Bertolt.
"You too…
"Have you… steeled yourself?"
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