Zeke had years of "ball sense"—and so did Roger.
He couldn't recall exactly when it was, but when Roger first met Anderson, he had only just learned how to hold a table-tennis paddle and how to put power into a stroke.
At the start, anyone could wipe the floor with Roger.
But after a single day, the regulars at the ping-pong tables began to find him hard to handle.
Two days later, Roger was beating them, which drew Anderson's attention—or rather, Anderson had practiced table tennis for years in advance just to approach Roger without looking deliberate.
Even so, those "years" of training weren't enough in front of Roger. In two months he absorbed everything Anderson understood about table tennis and began to find his own strengths, playing to his advantages.
In three months total,
Roger went from a complete novice to a table-tennis god—near invincible at the school's tables.
Later, someone recommended he enter the national tournament.
Roger signed up.
But in the end he got robbed by the referees and placed second.
He hadn't even let his opponent score a single point, yet he was still "runner-up."
When he demanded to know why, a referee actually said, "Because you're an Eldian pig"—words that trample sportsmanship.
Roger was used to it.
From then on he stopped entering Marleyan tournaments and focused on surpassing himself.
After that, he defeated every ace across the internment zones.
Back then, everyone believed that if Roger competed at the world level, no one could beat him.
But too bad.
Marley's sports organizers were a bunch of idiots, convinced that sports were mere entertainment—unworthy of the grand stage.
"What if the world stopped waging war and competed in sports to better itself?"
Someone had said that to Roger once.
Roger thought it was a fine notion, but he always knew humans would never stop fighting each other; even if war turned into sport, it would still become vicious competition in the end.
At least it could give people—especially the weak—places and reasons to build their bodies.
In this world, if the weak strengthen themselves, then even against a formidable foe, they can restrain his evil.
Holding to that belief, Roger never abandoned his training in table tennis.
Even if it was just for fun, he kept at it.
Just like Zeke practicing his throws and catches.
He might not turn into an excellent baseball player, but during exercise you can set things down for a while.
Sweat can wash away bad moods—when you're exhausted, you don't have the leisure to dwell on needless thoughts.
The boulder Roger had smashed flew back through the air.
Although the War Hammer-forged paddle had little friction, Roger still returned the stone.
It tumbled through the sky, barreling straight toward Zeke!
Whoosh!
Zeke had never imagined the day would come when his own "ball" would be hit back at him.
In a flash, the situation flipped, and he suddenly didn't know what to do.
"How is that possible…"
Zeke sprinted away, trying to move and dodge the returning boulder.
But Roger wouldn't let him escape so easily. He swung the paddle again, sending even more stones back.
Whoosh! Whoosh whoosh whoosh!
More stones streaked toward Zeke!
Zeke froze.
Just seconds ago, that wasn't the case—he'd been calmly watching Roger scurry around, taking hits from the stones and dodging in a panic.
But now, suddenly, he was the one scrambling!
What a joke!
The Beast Titan broke into an awkward run.
His Titan wasn't a pure combat type; its strength lay in manifesting different animal forms with different powers.
As a whale, he'd rule the seas.
As a rhinoceros, his charges were devastating on land.
But right now Zeke's Beast Titan was a great ape.
If he hadn't invented and perfected those long-range throws, the Marleyan military would've replaced him long ago.
Just like his predecessor, Tom Ksaver—ram-like Beast Titan. Aside from being able to butt an enemy, if it hadn't been for his outstanding research on Titans, they probably would've swapped him out already and rolled the dice on someone else.
Faced with the incoming stones, the Beast Titan ran with a clumsy gait.
Long limbs and a big belly meant his arms flung back as he ran, while his distended gut pitched forward; despite big, lumbering strides, his speed was poor—nowhere near the movement speed of Roger's Jaw Titan in armored plating.
So when the boulders came, he had no real options—only to try to run and try to dodge.
But—
"Aaah!!"
With a thunderous crash, the whistling stopped.
The clumsy Beast Titan took a direct hit; half his body shattered.
He toppled to the ground as steam of regeneration billowed from him.
The pain was excruciating. Zeke clawed to rise, but with half his torso smashed, his body wouldn't cooperate.
Like a monkey bitten by a lion, he couldn't just spring back up.
Fortunately for him, Roger was still some distance away; closing in wouldn't be easy.
"Never thought it'd come to this, Roger…"
Zeke thought, slamming a palm into the ground.
Boom!
The earth shuddered. The Titans surrounding Roger received the command and charged him!
Buying time, Zeke finally hauled himself up, clutching his crushed waist.
Titans thundered in from all sides to encircle Roger.
"That should do it," Zeke said. "Time to end this, Roger."
As he spoke, his shattered waist knitted back together.
Watching the Titans sprint at Roger, Zeke already pictured it—Roger torn apart and devoured, his death hideous.
But then, suddenly, he saw a strange Titan.
It seemed completely unaffected by his control.
While the other Titans broke into a run, this one stayed strangely calm.
"Loss of control?"
Zeke thought, recalling past failures.
Back then, lacking mastery, he'd had no choice but to kill those out-of-line Titans and dispose of them.
Now, in the middle of a battle, a Titan defied him.
It irritated him on the field, but not enough to shake him.
Until, moments later, that Titan did something that truly stunned him.
He saw that Titan actually—
Punch one of the Titans under his control?!
Not only did it knock the Titan's head flying,
it then stomped the nape to pulp!
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