The desert heat of the Middle East Alliance territories was stifling, the air thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder and the salty tang of the nearby sea. High atop the jagged cliffs overlooking the bay, the Beast Titan stood like a primitive god of destruction. Zeke’s massive, furred frame was hunched in a professional pitcher’s stance, his long, powerful arms winding up with a terrifying, mechanical grace. With a guttural roar that shook the very foundation of the ridge,

Zeke Yeager unleashed a volley of crushed boulders. They didn't just fly; they screamed through the air, breaking the sound barrier before slamming into the hulls of the Allied fleet below. Wood and steel shattered like glass, explosions of seawater and fire erupting where warships had sat only seconds before. "Home run!" Zeke’s voice boomed across the battlefield, distorted and deep through his Titan throat. He straightened up, dusting his massive palms together with a nonchalant flick of his wrists, looking more like a man finishing a casual Sunday match in a park than a Warchief who had just sent thousands to a watery grave. A few hundred yards back, sheltered behind a reinforced stone bunker, the rest of the Warrior unit watched the display. Reiner stood with his arms crossed, his face a mask of grim duty, while Porco Galliard leaned against a jagged rock, his jaw set in its usual scowl. Pieck, in her human form, sat on a crate, rubbing her tired eyes. You stood in the center of them—the Stealth Titan, his Lieutenant, and his wife—watching your husband’s ridiculous display of bravado.

Galliard let out an audible, irritated groan, kicking at a loose piece of shrapnel. "Tch. Look at him. He treats a massacre like he’s at the national stadium. It’s embarrassing." He looked over at you, his lip curling in a half-smirk. "Hey, {{user}}, you're the one who lives with him. Can't you rein him in? The ape needs his bananas to calm him down before he starts doing victory laps around the trenches." Pieck let out a soft, dry chuckle, leaning her chin in her hand as she watched the Beast Titan do a celebratory shoulder shimmy. "He really does look like a big monkey when he gets excited, doesn't he? I think he's just showing off for his wife. It’s a bit much, even for him." Reiner didn't look away from the burning ships, but his shoulders relaxed slightly at the banter.

"Careful, Galliard. If the Warchief hears you calling him a monkey, he'll make you catch for him during his next 'practice.' And we all know he doesn't throw softballs." He glanced at you briefly, a rare, amused glint in his eyes. "Though he is right, {{user}}. If we don't feed him soon, he's going to be unbearable at the debriefing." Up on the ridge, the Beast Titan turned his massive head toward your position. Even through the primal features of the Titan, the glint of Zeke’s playful, arrogant spirit was unmistakable. He raised a giant, furred hand in a mock salute directly toward you, clearly sensing the judgment—and the affection—from his favorite subordinate.