[You're about to die.]
A film of blood veiled his eyes, turning everything crimson; Roger couldn't see clearly—couldn't see at all. He had no time to wipe the blood from his vision, no time to rest.
This was the battle he chose, so he would keep fighting.
At first, when the Parasite saw Roger grievously wounded, his heart bled—afraid Roger would suddenly die, leaving him without a host and nowhere to cling.
But the more he watched, the more he realized: this kid's fighting talent was one in ten million.
Power aside, his combat wits were unmatched. He kept using subtle leverage to dissolve wave after wave of attacks, and at just the right moments he landed absolutely devastating blows.
Every time the Parasite watched Roger deliver one crushing strike after another, he thought: if I were using my own flesh, I probably couldn't hurt him at all—worse, he might kill me in a single hit.
Except—
Even the strongest warrior meets the moment of death.
When stamina runs dry, no matter how strong you are, you can't hit back.
So…
[Fall back, while there's still time.]
The Parasite urged him, genuinely aching and afraid.
If Roger died, the promise he'd made to that old man would turn to empty words.
That old man had saved his life, cared for him, trusted him completely—let him parasitize his son's body to escape the enemies hunting him.
But…
This really was a dead end now!
Roger spun his scythe, beheading the ring of Titans hemming him in.
Far off, Zeke hammered the ground again; another mass of mutated Titans came thundering in, charging Roger.
"I'm honestly curious how long you can last—or rather, where your limit lies."
Zeke spoke as the Beast Titan lounged beside a house.
To wear Roger down, he had the Titans encircle him in layers, penning him in, then sent them in at a slow drip.
Five at a time; once Roger cut them down, five more.
Every round, the moment he cleared the ones around him, a new pack closed in.
Roger had no time to breathe. He had to go all out every exchange, or risk being swallowed.
He had no way out.
To pry open a path, Roger unleashed the War Hammer Titan's power and stomped; crystalline spikes erupted, skewering the surrounding Titans where they stood.
At the same time, he bolted toward one direction to break through.
But Zeke wasn't stupid. How could he let his prey stroll out of the hunting ground?
"Watch the ball!"
The Beast Titan grabbed a nearby rooftop, crushed it in his hand, kneaded it into "stones."
He drew on all his strength and hurled them at Roger in the distance!
Whoosh! Whoosh whoosh whoosh!!
One throw overshot—he accidentally brained a few of his own Titans.
"Eh?!"
Zeke grimaced. Still—at hundreds of meters, missing once was normal.
He seized another house, crushed it, pressed the rubble firm in his palm.
In the distance, Roger was forcing a breakout in one direction.
Zeke took aim and threw again!
Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh!!
This one was dead on.
Zeke had practiced pitching for years; throwing was second nature.
Hearing the shriek of the massive projectiles tearing the air behind him, Roger knew that if one even grazed him, his Titan might not hold.
He wore the Armored Titan's protection, but to preserve the Jaw Titan's speed, the armor could only be soft plating.
Against Titan teeth or artillery, he had absolute defense.
But against boulders like these, Roger had no confidence.
He had just watched a few Titans hit by the stones blow apart into blood.
He didn't think he'd explode, but he'd almost certainly lose mobility.
And at a time like this, once he couldn't move, the Titans' biting and chewing would follow. That would all but declare him dead.
So—
What now?
[Dodge! Now!]
The Parasite shouted in Roger's head.
He could see behind Roger; he had a view of what was coming.
Now he saw a sky-blotting swarm of boulders rolling through the air—like meteorites.
"There's no dodging it."
By sound alone, Roger had plotted their trajectories.
The Parasite agreed.
No evasion—the coverage was too wide; no amount of weaving would save him.
[All we can do now is pray for luck…]
As he spoke, he stoked the "flames" burning through Roger's Titan body.
Those flames could multiply his physical output severalfold, and if they covered the Titan entirely with black markings, it would be nearly equivalent to the Parasite himself returning to the world.
At that point, though, he would seize Roger's body, bringing it fully under his control.
But the Parasite admitted to himself—his own battle experience wasn't as sharp as Roger's.
So he could only assist.
"Resign myself?" Roger actually managed a laugh. "I don't bow that easy."
In his palm, a dazzling light flared.
The power of the War Hammer Titan—Roger was going to forge something.
[What are you doing?]
The Parasite was baffled.
"Watch closely."
Roger stopped running, pivoted, and faced the boulder barrage head-on.
"Oh?"
Zeke watched, curious. He had no idea what Roger was up to.
Tank it with his body? Zeke wondered.
But Roger shaped a strange, enormous—
Paddle?
Gripping the handle, Roger set his stance.
The boulders ripped the sky and howled in.
Timing the first stone's drop, he snapped the paddle up and, pouring in every ounce of strength, swung!
"Zeke! Catch!"
Roger bellowed; the shout broke from a Titan's throat.
Thunk!!
With a ringing crack, the boulder rocketed back!
It corkscrewed as it went, screaming straight at Zeke!!
This—
"…Ping-pong?!!"
Zeke's eyes bulged.
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