The pure white glow lasted longer than Roger expected—apparently the War Hammer Titan's transformation took quite some time. Still, it was only a few dozen seconds.
During that span the Colossal Titan managed to interrupt him once, but Roger found an opening and completed his transformation in the Colossal's blind spot—behind its back.
Because the Colossal had only manifested its upper half atop the Wall, it couldn't turn or swing to the center of its rear. When Roger slipped behind it, it posed no threat.
Roger finished the War Hammer transformation quickly.
Because he most often used the Jaw Titan's power, even in the War Hammer form he didn't take on a fifteen-meter body like the previous War Hammer. He kept the Jaw Titan's short, agile frame.
Influenced by the Armored Titan's power, the Jaw Titan now wore light plating—enough to shrug off lower-grade fire like the cannon rounds made inside the Walls.
And under the War Hammer Titan's influence, the Jaw Titan's abilities also shifted.
Outwardly, not by much—it wasn't like the Armored Titan's power, a kind of passive effect that grew armor and couldn't be dismissed at will. But under the Jaw Titan's chin, it now formed the War Hammer Titan's distinctive openwork soft armor.
As if without that piece it wouldn't count as a true War Hammer—so the Jaw Titan looked stranger than before.
The claws and fangs were unchanged, yet with that "War Hammer-style openwork soft armor," the claws seemed more fully developed. They no longer looked so beastlike, and more… human.
Paired with the fangs, it resembled a hairless ape—more primate than beast.
The talons stood out, articulated well enough to grasp objects.
All so it could wield the War Hammer Titan's abilities properly.
Roger had thought he wouldn't master the War Hammer power quickly—but before that doubt could take root, a surge of memories flooded his mind.
The instant he became the new War Hammer.
The moment he reached for its power in battle.
Lara Tybur's memories, and fragments from a few earlier War Hammer inheritors, bored into him, clamoring, churning.
In a flash, Roger sorted them and flipped through them like a lantern reel.
Lara's mother's smile; her father's lessons; her brother's constant self-reproach.
Willy Tybur had become head of the Tybur family, but in the name of "easier management of the War Hammer Titan," tradition dictated a gentle-natured woman inherit the power.
As her brother, Willy had thought he would inherit; the outcome blindsided him.
He argued hard to overturn the elders' proposal—only to be told a piece of history, shocking and raw.
In one generation, a War Hammer inheritor—a man with a violent nature—betrayed the family the day after succession. He founded a new organization, sought to rule the world, and to set it ablaze. In the end, General Tybur single-handedly punished and executed him with an unknown power and recovered the Titan.
Dreading a repeat, they fixed the rule: from then on the War Hammer would pass only to gentle women—easier to control, and less likely to draw attention to the inheritor's identity.
So Willy fell silent.
But his guilt toward his sister Lara never faded, not once.
Every time he saw his gentle sister forced to drill military skills, his heart broke; he'd find ways to ease her load.
Except…
Willy never imagined that easing up on her, and misjudging Roger, would indirectly lead to his sister's death.
"Fools," Roger thought, dismissive.
Just then two images tugged at him.
A standard-issue uniform by the hearth; blood on the collar.
Toys scattered across a table; a teddy bear; a toy revolver.
He'd seen these before—he'd had these memories.
It came back.
Humans killing humans, and a crowd kneeling to a shadow—the "Ape." A stranger circle besides them, lifting their own hearts to offer up, a star map dimming out until only Scorpio remained.
Were these…
Some kind of sign?
Roger faltered. In that moment, a voice sounded again in his head:
[I only want an end.]
A short-haired girl with brown, ear-length hair, eyes brimming, slit her palm with a knife.
With a thunderclap, the Attack Titan erupted, sprinting across the battlefield, splitting from the Jaw Titan behind it.
Then Anderson's voice rang out:
[Don't worry, Kriss. I'll find him—I will… I'll find Roger Eikam, and fulfill your wish. But… do you really feel nothing for me?]
Nothing?
Roger frowned—and felt a stab of sorrow. Anderson's sorrow.
Through that memory, Roger could taste Anderson's feelings for the girl named "Kriss," an inheritor of the Attack Titan.
Something like love—obsessive and raw.
He'd used the chaos of battle to let Kriss escape when her identity as the Attack Titan was about to be exposed—because of that love.
A pity…
"She didn't love you," Roger said flatly. "Or she wouldn't have left you to carry it all alone."
He reached for more—why had this Attack Titan inheritor "Kriss" asked Anderson to throw Roger into this whirlpool of Titans?—but the memory cut off.
Back to the now—the Colossal Titan's arm came sweeping again.
It twisted its own spine, turned, and slapped at Roger's new "Jaw-Armored-War Hammer Titan."
Roger rolled, caught the Colossal's forearm, and hung there.
The Jaw Titan was small, but fast—deadly fast against the ponderous, over-sized Colossal.
Roger reached out through the Jaw Titan and closed his fist on empty air.
White light gleamed—a massive long-handled scythe took shape in his grasp. It spun once, then hacked down and sheared off the Colossal Titan's arm in a single stroke!!
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