SnK 68 Thoughts

I’ve gotta say, when this manga likes me, it likes me.

Thanks to font sizes, the very first thing I read was the “Do not panic,” bubble on the first page. Awesome.

I’m not sure how much there is to say about this chapter. My head keeps alternating between jumping around like a kid in a candy shop and resting in the calm of the storm. For a chapter with so much action, it felt a lot more relaxed than I was expecting.

Part of me is very glad, because there’s only so much you can do with a gigantic mess of a Titan with zero sentience and threatens to break open the walls. Either it destroys things or it dies, and we don’t need multiple chapters waiting for the conclusion to be decided.



The rest of me is a little put out, and I can’t quite put my finger on why. Logic says that I object to Rod being killed off as something besides Rod after so many months of waiting for him to die. Some shreds of memory might still be hanging around, but he’s just a mindless Titan, and you can say whatever you want about the threat he poses, but I’m pretty sure most of the audience wanted him dead because he’s a jackass. Good reasons come second.

Except in a way, it’s kind of thematically appropriate that this is the way Rod ends up.



Rod’s always been of interest to me.

Entirely because of his daughter, yes, but I don’t see why that has to be brought up.

We’re still a few paragraphs away from that.



He’s a figure of incredible plot importance in the manga, and he pulls strings wherever he can find them to get his way. He has means and he has influence beyond his purpose as a plot device.

Yet for all the destruction he leaves in his wake, the man barely has any presence.

Like his daughter when she lost what was most important to her, he’s an empty shell. His regard for people past his god is practically nonexistent, and even when he does bother showing an expression, it’s so subdued that it’s hard to believe that any kind of person is left inside.



And at the very end of his life, there most assuredly is not any kind of person left inside. Mindless Titan route is a go.

Rod is a character defined entirely by his purpose. As a child, he had his own longings and possibly a heart (gasp), but after his brother accepts the first king’s will, or more generously, after the death of his family, he’s all hollow. He lives for his god and nothing else.

I should probably be glad he’s dead just because I’ll be forced to stop pointing at all of the ways he’s so clearly Historia’s father every month.

No more god, no more Rod.

It’s a little pathetic, and I think that’s why it feels like a letdown.

As much as I appreciate how Rod is physically transformed into the type of monster he’s always been… at the end of it all, yeah, he’s just plain empty.

He’s important because of his blood relations. He’s a descendent of the royal line, and he’s heavily responsible for screwing up his kid.

He can be a big, scary monster all he wants, and he has left marks worthy of one, but he’s been dead for a very long time. Killing him is practically redundant, and spending time on it only highlights how little there was left of him before his transformation.

He’s put down as a mindless animal, and really, there’s nothing in his character that requires more than that.



And something about it just feels odd, because after all of the damage he’s done, his reign ends so simply. His proportions are grand, but his personality never has been, so no matter how many explosions were involved, his exit was always destined to feel more like a whisper.



There’s a plan. It’s carried out. It works.

Ding-dong, the witch is dead. Historia should find a terrier to adopt.

There’s also the general oddity of the Survey Corps taking a victory at a very limited cost. Sure, we might get scenes later dealing with the traumatized people from the interior having come so close to actual combat or maybe complaining about how the military’s barely in charge a day and already they’re dealing with an assault on their walls, but this is a pretty damn clean victory for them.

The rightful king’s out of the picture, and with him, the immediate possibility of Eren being eaten for the Progenitor Titan’s powers. He last presented as a giant monster that the new rightful ruler was witnessed killing. People on the interior have had a taste of the terror of Titans as well as the protection of the military.

Trost is counted as humanity’s one true victory, and even that has an atrocious body count.

We’ve apparently reached the stage in the story where our protagonists are being permitted to use the full extent of their abilities without some plot point or ability or character flaw preventing the tide from turning their way.

Exciting stuff.

And all it really does is make me want to get back to the antagonists that have a soul to fight with.

Rod provides a marvelous victory by being a seemingly overwhelming power with no will of his own. The death looks flashy, but all of the emotional content has been dealt with, and this chapter is largely about everyone standing back while the Survey Corps–for once–gets to look really bloody awesome.

Without actually getting bloody. It’s great.

Everything about this is fantastic and satisfying, but in terms of action sequences, a struggle is preferred.

Here, it would totally be out of place to bother with prolonging this encounter, but I miss the Rogue Titan duking it out with the Female Titan and the Armored Titan.

Speaking of Eren, I think he would be the other reason why this chapter feels so quiet.

Obviously his decision to die for humanity was going to have some lasting effects. Eren’s difficulty with how okay it is that people are dying for him has been an ongoing thing for him, and the longer the manga lasts, the more it’s weighing him down.

Despite that, Eren’s always continued fighting.

And the past few chapters led him into the idea that the best way to fight was for his existence to come to an end. Historia’s the only one who sees that trauma, and she’s heavily in favor of Eren’s life continuing, but it takes more than a rousing set of yelling to shut the door on the type of conclusion Eren reached with his life.

Whenever he’s faced with making the impossible possible to save humanity, he says he’ll do it, even though he doesn’t know that he can. Do or do not–there is no try.

That optimistic thinking is finally dying out with all he’s been through. Eren’s made himself special because he’s had to, and that’s the only way to answer extraordinary circumstances–but now he’s looking at the person who’s expected to continue that trend, and he’s just an ordinary, pathetic human. The same one that couldn’t save Hannes. Or his mother.

And as with the last time he’s fallen into despair, Mikasa’s the one to pull him out of it–with some bonus assistance from Armin.



Together, he and Mikasa completely failed to pull his mother out from under their collapsed house. They weren’t strong enough.

Now, Mikasa’s strong enough to lift a whole barrel over her shoulder.

They aren’t small, useless children. As Armin says, they’re soldiers. They’ve grown up.

There is still something they can do.

There is still a way to fight.

And there’s enough of Eren left to remember that that is what’s important. They can’t give up and be satisfied with what they’ve been left with–they’ve got to keep pushing and reaching for better. Only then will anything change.

The sad thing is that even though his closest friends help snap him out of it, they aren’t privy to the depressed pondering of Eren’s head. They might know that Eren is a little off his game, but Eren climbs out of the hole he wound up in without their direct encouragement.

There’s an element of quiet isolation to it, and as good as it is that Eren has grown enough to help himself, it feels just a little lonely.

Historia and Eren are flipped at the start of this chapter. In 54, Historia can’t fathom what the point is, and envies Eren for being so sure of himself. Now, Eren’s lost and sees Historia as someone who rose above everything while he’s floundering.

The truth of the matter is that they’re both incredibly strong people who have been dealt more than their fair share of awful life circumstances, and Eren’s resolve has been worn down from day one while Historia’s had to build her resolve up from the ground floor.

She starts from a point where if she doesn’t get stronger, she’ll wither away and die. He starts strong and has to weather a constant bombardment of expectations and suffering–while he’s still growing, because he’s a teenager. He’s not done yet, no matter how complete he looks from the outside, and staying strong while your foundation’s melting away is hard and painful.

In comparison, the layers that Historia’s managed to set in the middle of her pain and strife look sturdy and ready for anything, but it’s only because she’s just getting started, and unless her life sucks even more than foreseen, the trials striking her foundation are largely over.

Historia got torn down all the way to the bottom, and now she has a chance to build something new and shiny. Eren, though… he doesn’t have the luxury of breaking down. He has to stay strong even while every piece threatens to crumble. No one can afford to have him collapse now.

Sucks to be Eren, really.

Now I’m probably supposed to say something about Historia.

The horror.

No, seriously, the horror. I hate flying blind, and the most important part of the last couple pages is influenced by a conversation that’s missing half of its content.

“I have my own thoughts on that. I found for myself the mission I have to carry out. That’s why I’m here now.”

[…]

“I understand your thoughts… but I cannot allow you to fight.”

I suppose I could be overthinking it, and maybe, despite the separation, those lines of dialogue go right next to each other in Erwin and Historia’s discussion, but I’m not sure I am.

(And for crying out loud, I need to make a post about Historia and her damn eyes, because once again they’re hidden at an important juncture.

Yeah, kiddo, you may be getting thought bubbles now, but see how much that’s helping.)



During Eren’s internal monologue, Historia is very clearly still talking to Erwin, and the content of the conversation that gets flashed to while she’s up in the air seems a bit too short to account for everything. Not to mention the body language–she appears to be making some kind of case for her actions, and it all starts with her asking about being a figurehead.

Historia’s active involvement in the plots intended for her has been… well. Yeah.

Her actual feelings on being queen haven’t gotten much play. She’s understood that it’s a role she has to carry out, but then her father kidnaps her and there’s that whole mess, and so it’s been a while since the topic has come up in her presence, let alone when she’s in a place where she can talk about it instead of simply accepting her lot in life.

I’ve never had a very high opinion of Historia’s empathy for humanity as a whole, and whenever a new chapter comes out, I swing back and forth on exactly how much she cares for people. Before this chapter came out, I figured that she’d be perfectly happy ditching her intended role.

Anyone calling themselves the enemy of mankind declaring themselves ruler a day later isn’t exactly the most expected turn of events.

I suppose it’s not fair to judge someone based on their theatrical yelling, though. Even when it’s hilarious.

Alright, so the first point of interest in her actions this chapter is the question of whether or not humanity will accept a figurehead ruler, and apparently, Historia has given enough thought to that to actually have thoughts on the subject. And she’s selected a mission for herself to carry out, and that’s her purpose in being present. Before now, the only real missions that she’s accepted have been to settle her own fate and rescue anyone who feels they’re unworthy of life. How that relates to queenship… well, I’d imagine most people behind the walls are very enthusiastic about their right to live, especially within the interior.



I feel like I’m piecing this together in slow motion, sorry. Whatever she tells Erwin, he’s not unsympathetic to her intentions, so it’s pretty likely that yelling about how the Titans should destroy everyone is going to stay a private spectacle.

I also don’t think that she makes an impassioned case about why she wants to kill her father, though I would deeply enjoy that. “I get that you want me to be queen, but get this: Daddy Issues,” just seems like the type of thing that maybe you don’t tell your commanding officer.

Currently, what I’m wondering is if she asks Erwin about how the people would respond to a figurehead because she has no intentions of being one; a ruler in name only stands on the sidelines and waits for everyone else to do the dirty work.

A proper ruler steps forward and engages the problem and comes out victorious.

Historia puts on an incredible show for the people down below.

A giant monster unlike anything they have ever seen before appears, there’s an explosion as pieces cascade around their only fortification, smoke everywhere, and at the end of it all a lone soldier with no branch markings crashes to the ground–her sword responsible for ending the assault–and declares herself the true ruler of the walls.

It’s quite the display, and I don’t think it’s one anyone could argue with. “Hero,” works way better than, “bastard child of the real royal line that no one ever recognized as the royal line before now.”

It also could have gotten her killed, which limits the effectiveness fairly substantially.

With my thoughts on Historia and humanity up in the air, I’m really hesitant to say that what looks the most obvious is actually happening, but–it very much looks like Historia found a reason why being queen works for her, and there’s no way she’s going to stick to being an inactive party in her own life, so she’s going to go ahead and be the fricking queen–one that the people will know damn well to recognize.

Even if the position works for her, the heroics mean that civilians will accept her.

And if there’s one person who knows about getting a desired emotional response out of people, it’s Historia Reiss.

…You know, I really would have figured that this post would have gotten to talking about Historia killing Rod a lot faster than it has.

I’m just going to quote Historia’s thoughts pre-kill, because it is a beautiful collection of mundane simplicity merging with brutality.

“I’m sorry for being so selfish. But… this is my first time. I’ve never defied my parents before… It’s the first time I’ve ever had a fight with my father.”

…She says as she’s killing him.

That is an exquisite shot of his neck, by the way. Any part of his spine would have been fair game, but Historia slices through his neck the exact way they’re expected to do with Titans–only Titans’ necks are the size of a human body, and Rod’s neck is the size of a human neck. Excellent showing from the #10 student of the 104th.

One of the things I like about Historia is her absurd simplicity. She’s killing her father, and she’s feeling bad about putting that above so many things, but at the same time she’s frankly addressing why.

Her parents have been an albatross around her neck for her entire life, and for most of it, she isn’t given any opportunities to respond. She tries to hug one, she gets a bloody nose. She meets her father for the first time and watches her mother’s execution and then gets shipped off under a new name.

This whole thing is the first time she gets to fight back against her parents. She does what she wants instead of what they want.

And no matter what she does, even if she doesn’t say it, it’s also the last time. Someone is going to put an end to her father before the day is done. She’s never had a chance before to settle a fight in her family, so… she settles this one. The only one she’s ever been able to participate in.

“You’re going to kill yourself, the ultimate act of submission. Is that how much you want to please the people who treated you like a nuisance?! Why are you trying to hurt yourself?! If your will is that strong… then shouldn’t you be able to change your fate?!”

–Ymir, 40

Yes, she should.



Now that is a damn character arc.

Back to the text of what’s happening… I love that there isn’t a thought about, “Oh, gee, I’m murdering my father,” in any of Historia’s bubbles. It’s just a simple dispute, and this is how it ends.

It really is funny that everyone else got their moment of being worried about killing humans while they’re okay killing Titans, and Historia, who sees this Titan as human, doesn’t pay much thought to killing one. Then again, she’s familiar with humans killing humans.

The most interesting part to me is the flashbacks she gets to see when she does kill her father. She gets to watch all of the spirit and determination of every Reiss that takes on the Progenitor Titan–as well as that of her father–and how it destroys each and every one of them.

I think that’s partly why she has her eyes covered on her landing spot. Yes, she’s just killed her only remaining family and maybe she could use a second (not of blatant mourning, though; of course not), but also, she’s just seen what happened to her family.



(Interrupting myself for a moment here: Alma is a new name, isn’t it? Or have I forgotten one? That looks about to be very relevant, since it appears he’s the only one to understand someone and then dies. ETA: Or she’s possibly Historia’s mother. …I just sort of assumed the woman Rod was clinging to in the flashbacks was his wife, but that is a maid uniform, isn’t it?)

Every single Reiss knew their role to play, and they played it until it killed everything good in them.

In contrast, Historia’s roles come from how she doesn’t fit with the rest of the Reiss family. Instead of a god, she becomes Krista Lenz. Instead of having the first king’s voice in her head, she has her neglect spurring her forward.

By being outside of her family, Historia is given a chance to realize the damage of falling into a role instead of living as yourself. She is the only one who decides to put an end to all of it and walk away.

Historia could have been her father. She could have been her uncle. She could have been her sister.

Instead, she’s Historia Reiss. True ruler of the walls.

