#panzerjagd

“I suppose some congratulations are in order.”

This is actually a very good question and we’re glad you asked! For the initial question we’d like to say yes, but in the latter case, no.

Let’s take Servant Eren for example. We would say that it is possible to find information regarding his legend that could be purchased in book form, but it would have to be solely in book form. In short, the Attack on Titan manga itself will not be something that could be obtained in this city (we want to try and avoid anything that might seem like fourth wall breaking as much as possible), BUT there could be a historical book detailing the events of Attack On Titan and it’s characters much in the same way as other history books.

The same goes for videogames and other more modern forms of media. They will all be available as history books and tales, rather than actual videogames, comics, etc.

If you have any further questions on the topic, feel free to ask! We’ll be sure to detail this in our FAQ section for future reference.

@panzerjagd

Soooo, has anybody properly defined the limits of Utopia? Like, what happens if you get to the end of the given area to the human population? What’s beyond this city? Wastelands? Fearsome monsters? ...The scrambles of the real world?

Phoenix doesn’t know why, but such questions filled his mind one day. Thus, as the curious cat he is, he decided to investigate the issue. He walked, walked and walked, to the end of the Business District, until the amount of human constructions around him began to diminish, little by little.

Before he could reach the last visible building, however-

*POW!*

He suddenly falls on the floor, as something forces him down. A couple seconds pass, the dizzy effect on his mind taking a bit to clear. Once it does, he looks around. Nobody pulled him away. He looks back to the path before him, no apparent obstacles before him. Phoenix raises a hand and stretches it ahead.

Then, it can’t advance anymore. Light ripples appear before his eyes. (A force field? ...I see. A good way not to make us think of our limits in daily life.)

Well, that ended the issue for now. With this thing on the way, there’s no way he can explore further. It’s time for him to get back home and-

“Over there! I can see iiiiiit... a Fragmeeeeent!!!”

...Oh, crap. Suddenly, a huge bunch of citizens appear surrounding Phoenix, and now he notices that, indeed, there’s a Saint Fragment right by his side. He’d start running away from them, but... there’s nowhere to run. The city’s invisible walls block him from going to the only direction not occupied by these guys.

I saw

Use your head. Know your opponent.

Even now, even here, it had worked for him so far, very effectively save for once. His opponents weren’t clever, weren’t hard to outsmart. They’d been robbed of their wits, by and large, and left as half-sentient saboteurs of their own would-be salvation. The others who hadn’t been affected had seemed mostly able to handle the situation so far, but there was one thing the infected had in spades that the masters and their servants seemed to lack: numbers. The populace was, by and large, ordinary civilians. Though none of them were ordinary anymore, it seemed.

It came as no surprise to find another young man engaging a group of them, holding his own -- alone? Norman shrank back behind the corner he was at, hoping he hadn’t been noticed, and watched. The stranger seemed capable, but a little on the losing side, at a disadvantage for his efforts to spare his assailants from real harm. He had to find a way to help. What could he do, how could he...maybe if he drew them off the man, distracted them, they could both get away? Divide and conquer, he’d told Emma. He searched for something, anything, to help him. Take advantage of your surroundings. The terrain, objects, anything. Don’t see them for what they are, see them for what they could be.

He hardly had the chance to think before he spotted a second group of their opponents, flanking the stranger from the narrow street across from Norman. His heart sank.

You can’t charge in headfirst. He was small, weak, fragile, and he knew better. But even so...

“Behind you!” Courage as hot as sunlight seized him (adrenaline, he’d have recognized if he thought about it) and he charged the foremost of the reinforcements from the side. He spun to face the figure and planted his foot in front of the man’s. It would have seemed an almost ludicrous suggestion to him, ten minutes before, to even try to trip someone so much bigger, but now it was all he could think to do. He pivoted with the man’s fall, grabbing at his shoulder and heaving to throw the other’s weight down.

In the end, it was the afflicted man’s own momentum that doomed him. He went flailing to the ground, face meeting the asphalt, and Norman hardly managed to pull himself away in time not to be caught in the fall or latched onto by the rest of them.

He backed toward the militant man, his only apparent ally in this swarm. For an instant, the thought struck him as funny -- a total stranger, his sole friend in the world at this particular moment -- but he hardly had the time to question the baseless notion that he could trust this man. His desperate intervention had slowed and startled the second group for a few moments, at least broken up their charge and scattered them. With luck on his side, he might have managed to get away again, before they closed in, but --

“We need to go!” An obvious enough statement. Another of the infected, already, had set her sights on him instead, and he brought up his arms to guard, ready to throw her weight off to the side, past his shoulder. The only advantage he’d had was the limited element of surprise, and that was gone now. It was an idiotic move, exactly what he’d have told Emma not to do, and exactly what she’d have done anyway.

Ah, well. Sorry, Ray.

Certainly. You’re free to use your money however you please (within reason). Happy spending!

✌ Tell us about your best victory!

“A victory may not imply the war was won, but at least that the enemy is defeated. When your enemy knows no permanent defeat, can you ever claim a victory? The only thing I ever won was time, and in the end it was not enough.”

He had walked out of the residential district during what appeared to be early waking hours, for a quiet smoke.

 It wasn’t exactly the smartest idea to spend what little money they had on an expensive habit, but he was certain there would be opportunities to make whatever he spent back. The need for a quiet killing was a profession that had never really died out, just gotten more difficult.

Kiritsugu had paused to light the cigarette at small wooden bridge that out-looked the surrounding lake, shielding it from the north west winds skimming across it. There was something surreal about the stillness of it all, or perhaps, he had simply been dead long enough that any sensory stimulation was odd.

He’s about halfway through his cigarette when a young man joins him on the opposite end of the bridge. Honestly, “young man” is a generous stretch; he’s practically a child. But, the military style uniform and stern look on his face say he’d probably resent being referred to as such.

He’s been starring at the lake for quite some time, long enough for Kiritusugu to have finished his cigarette. He takes a long drag and exhales a thin stream of smoke.