Only in Death doth certainly lie, for life is a lie and living is a lie. Freedom is earned by any means necessary for it is oppressed by all means. Begotten power, never surrender.
He put up his hood and walked along the street unbothered by the senseless crowd.
He would do it. He would save humanity as a humble servant of the true king and he would see the world destroyed in a bid for survival.
There, the target that he had stalked along the rooftops, unseen, unheard, unfelt. He approached the man, an obstacle on the road to freedom.
His left ring finger moves to his palm and the flame is brought forth to the fuse. His wrist is pulled back and the fuse is lit.
A single push. The unbidden blade pierces the heart. The dead man walks forward, confused and in pain, and lets out a groan. The dead man collapses to his knees.
His green cape flutters and he is gone.
The righteous road was without signposts, but bloody handprints marked the way.
The sun sets early.
The shadows of night cast the District in darkness long before the sky makes room for the moon's domain.
While the sky is still blue, that eminent celestial fireball's yellow rays and warmth do not reach the ground, for the great walls block them. Only the guardsmen of the Garrison can see the red and orange glow of the sunset, basking in its for-granted glory, toasting drinks to comradery bound by a shared dependence on alcohol; for, what else was there to do but drink?
The people bustled on, selling the last of their wares for the day, taking walks to help digest supper, having a few cups with friends and family, singing in courtyards, dancing in squares, or simply resting at home for the day was finished.
Elijah Eirwyn Ackley did not mind not seeing the sunset. Most people living within the walls did not mind not seeing the sun set. They have lived their lives, and will continue to live their lives, in this way; the walls are as natural and as normal as the clouds in the sky. To Elijah, the stars at night are more fun to watch either way. That was what Elijah did when he was not scribbling in empty books with his pen, filling them with ink, jotting down stories, penning poems and prose, and composing lyrics. But every time he would stop and look upon his work with disdain, comparing them to other professional works, and throw down his writing tools, escaping to the roof. The tiles were uncomfortable to lie on but the flow of stars riding the black sea swept him away from physical discomfort. It gave him an odd sense of peace, but also an odd sense of anger and longing. Every once in a while, his eyes wandered to the dark outline of the wall.
Sometimes, he would fall asleep right there.
During the day, Elijah would stay in his room, realizing the childish folly of comparing the works of an uneducated nine-year-old to professional authors, and try his hand again. In the past, he would hang out with the other kids, harassing the Garrison, stealing food from the sellers who always knew, and rolling in the dirt from day until night, forcing his parents to find him alone by the canal, staring at the stars. He showed the other children his writing, showed off what he thought was good singing, and learned to draw with one of the girls who excelled at art. Now, he rarely left the house, and he never drew. His parents had since stopped trying to make him go out. They loved him, Elijah thought, and it wasn't untrue. They always made sure to keep him comfortable as parents should and-. Should they give more? Were they obligated to?
They didn't and Elijah did not think they had to.
And so he spent his days alone, thinking his thoughts alone, speaking his words alone, playing alone. But he was never lonely. Until the times he was, which was many. But those times he ignored. He heard the voices and laughter of children he used to be familiar with, seeing how they played without him and it filled him with a sense of sadness. But he would not go out to play with them. And when they did not come to find him, it filled him with anger. All of those would fade away into an unspeakable wave of sentimental melancholy beneath the scenery of the midnight ocean. And as he would be lulled to sleep by the wind, he would think to himself, ah.
The world was so boring.
The District where he lived was boring. But.
Shinganshina was home.
And then that home was no more.
Thomas Akerman and Ada Ackerman, Elijah's grandparents, had lived in the Shinganshina District. The Akerman family had lived there for generations, once even subject to accidental persecution due to the similarities of their last name with another once prominent family. They were simple city dwellers, selling their wares at stands and working as tradesmen. They lived relatively well and were never living in harsh times. Then, one day, not long after Thomas and Ada had gotten married, the incident happened. A group of cultists had opened the gate. Titans stormed the district. Thomas's mother had been crushed in a stampede and his father had been eaten. Ada's parents were lost in the crowd and never seen again.
The newlywed couple had the fear of Titans branded into their soul and they had made sure their children and their children's children knew. The family had settled into Jinae, unable to move back to Shinshingana, unable to move on. The small-town life was a bit unfamiliar. They missed the bustling atmosphere of the district, so they could never settle in completely but found the closer and slower life of the town cozy. They had a single child named Polly Akerman.
Jan Ackley was an unwanted son of a wealthy merchant family from the Stohess District. His mother all but ignored him. She was promiscuous too, leading to an ugly separation. His father had never paid too much attention to Jan, and the separation had made his apathy towards Jan worse. Knowing he had no future with the Ackley family, nor a place in his sick father's will, he decided to find a life in Shinshinaga. He thought a district life would be fun and full of adventure, as well as put him closest to the outside. So he hopped on a caravan to the city. but stopped in Jinae on the way. There, he met Polly Akerman.
He was instantly captivated by her looks and her open personality. During the week's rest, the group stayed in the town, and Jan had the chance to interact with Polly more. He learned about her family and her hobbies and fell in love with her smile and laugh. He decided to leave the caravan to pursue the woman.
The two had a slow and rough early dating period. The man wanted to move to Shinshigana and loved to flaunt his hard-earned wealth. He placed a high value on his money because he did not come by it as easily as his relatives. Polly, however, feared the Titans emerging from Shinshinaga once more. She also felt Jan's wealth to be a slight to her name as if he was showing off what she did not have. But the pettiness of both parties was eroded by the growing feelings of intimacy and love, and eventually, a pregnant mother meant a married woman. Polly Ackley was finally convinced to go with her husband to Shinganshina to start their new life, her instilled generational fear melted away by her husband's passion. With his wealth, Jan was able to purchase a sizable home in the district, nearest to Wall Maria, and cultivated a casual relationship with the Garrison for easy travel. Thus, Elijah Eirwyn Ackley was born on January 6th, year 835.
Elijah had been a bright and open child. Green eyes like his father, black hair like his mother. He laughed a lot and smiled more often than not. When he was four, Jerry Ackley was born into the world. Elijah and Jerry fought constantly, but always made up right after and never held a grudge. Shinganshina had schools in town, but the level of education being taught there was not up to the standards that Jan wanted. He himself was taught by a tutor that his own father had hired when he was a child, so Jan took it upon himself to educate his children. Apart from basic academics, his disapproval of the Akerman family's trauma led him to teach Elijah about Titans in a more pragmatic manner. Thus, Elijah grew a curious nature about Titans instead of a fearful one.
Elijah had a lot of things he wanted to be. Some were realistic, such as a businessman or a blacksmith. Others were more farfetched, such as an assassin or the king. Using his family's wealth, Elijah would invest his time in things such as horseback riding, martial arts, hunting, et cetera. But each time, he would try for a little bit and then stop. It was a growing trope his family did nothing to stop, a cliche of half-hearted effort. This coincided with the dimming smile on his face and the amount of words he said. Much to his chagrin, his parents would not stop mentioning to him that he should smile more and be as joyous as he was when he was a baby. Elijah thought about telling them, but he thought that the reason for his decreased motivation in everything was going to land him some corporal punishment.
Simply, he figured there was no point in it all.
His worldview grew steadily more cynical and nihilistic, his fantasies the only thing keeping him from total existential collapse, and he knew that this was abnormal after viewing all the other children, at the ripe age of nine. Elijah did not fear much because he did not have much interaction with the world and thus had very little that could scare him. But since the age of seven, sometimes when he went to bed, he would lie away and cry. The darkness did not hold monsters or demons but held the grip of death. He heard others say it was like sleeping forever and that was not bad, but he read that it was painful and that he would not be anything anymore. He dreamt of his parents dying and he would wake up and cry. He dreamt of himself dying and he would wake up and-. Nothing. Elijah pondered that difference from time to time.
He felt that living was way too tiring and yet was too scared to die. Too many things to think about. Too much to do to have a steady future. Too much to do to keep his body healthy. Too much to do only to keep doing things. Elijah and his brother talked less and less and he snapped more and more at his parents. The only thing that kept him company was his thoughts and pets, a cat that he had adopted, or rather, a cat that came by for company from time to time. It wasn't to say that he grew apathetic. Instead, he cared a lot about things.
He simply could not find the motivation to do any work.
To offset that empty feeling when slacking off did not do the trick, he wanted to feel as if he was worth something. That meant appearance and materialism. He asked his father to help him prepare a wardrobe befitting someone of greatness, but no fancy robes or powdered wigs. He wanted a fedora, a tie, collared shirts, suspenders, a waistcoat, slacks, and boots. He wanted to look good and feel good. His parents laughed at him, calling him an old man or a reincarnated person, a child with grown-up tastes, or a kid with no taste at all. They tried to convince him otherwise, to get with the times and be more normal, but still, they provided him with what he wanted. And when he walked around the city on his private walks, his pocket watch chain swinging, he saw the others look at him. Every stare pricked at him with anxious needles but he ignored them, telling himself that he needn't care.
Besides, what he could not hear in their whispers was none of his problem.
Or so he told himself.
But then again, if he did not believe what he told himself, who could he believe?
He did not expect his life to go much anywhere, especially in terms of career. Perhaps, with the luck of nepotism, he would run his father's shop and use his father's connections when he was of age. He would watch his energetic and more studious brother flourish on his own and become an academic or a doctor of sorts. His younger brother was already staying up by candlelight, reviewing arithmetic and the life sciences taught by their father. Both brothers loved knowledge, but Jerry was willing to put in the work. It irked Elijah to think that he might have to ride his brother's, younger brother's, current, yet he never made to improve himself the same way. Life would be boring. But life would be peaceful and at least he would be alive. He would be the same as he always had been, from the last seven years to the future seventy.
Then the walls came tumbling down in the city that he loved. Grey clouds rolled over the walls, bringing darkness from above.
Jan had gone to work while Polly took Jerry to a friend's house. Waking up closer to midday than to sunrise, Elijah got out of bed lethargic and got dressed in a hurry. He didn't want to stay inside today, with even him feeling the pull of the natural world on such a beautiful day. Elijah stepped outside, forgoing breakfast as usual, and started roaming around the streets. With his hands in his pockets, he slowly made his way to Wall Maria and entered the kingdom proper. Finding a hill near the entrance, Elijah stood in the breeze and stared at the open fields. It was a small sample of the world beyond the walls, vast and unending, a whole realm within itself. It was part of the reason why Elijah felt no pressure to reclaim the world outside. They had so much inside already that they could use.
But…
The sentiment was still there. Every time he saw this scene, he could not help but focus on the word 'sample' in the realization that the land inside the walls was a fraction of the entire earth. A never-ending green field with trees and winding rivers. Did the mountains and gigantic super lakes exist as well? Thick-furred bears with horns? The short and sharp-eared fairies? Hm, he thought. Maybe I should ask Father to ask Grandfather for some history books. History, at least, was easier to digest.
Having eaten enough of the scenery, Elijah decided to fill his stomach with some actual food at an eatery. He made his way back inside the District and searched for a familiar restaurant, one he could get in and out of quickly. Fanz's Foodstuffs served similar foods as the other restaurants. Limited amounts of meat, perhaps some milk from time to time, gruel, bread, and potatoes. Elijah walked out with a tray of soft bread, vegetable broth, mashed potatoes with a hint of butter and asparagus, and stale beef jerky. It was a far cry from the steak and bone broth that Elijah had eaten when he visited his grandparents, each with a helpful serving of salt from the mines. Sitting in a nearby alley on top of a small crate and leaning against the wall, Elijah ate the mostly bland food. Franz was nice to him. Or was it to his money?
Elijah returned the tray to the store and nodded goodbye to the owner, before once again aimlessly wandering the streets, feeling awkward to be outside but not wanting to go home just yet. He considered going to the market and started down that direction when the bell tolled. Elijah perked up. He quickly ran to the main streets and tried to get a vantage point to see the procession. The grating gears and stone-on-stone signaled the return of the Survey Corps. The real heroes of the kingdom, not like the ones in the fairy tales. He found a ladder on the side of a building behind the main road and climbed onto the roof tiles. Carts, horses, and men slowly made their way down the road. The bystanders didn't greet them.
Elijah was confused; did heroes not get cheered upon their return? That was what all the books said.
The heroes were also silent. Toward the middle of the procession was a blond-haired man on a horse, one of the leaders of the Survey Corps, but Elijah didn't know his name. He looked into the crowd, seemingly spotting something or someone, but turned away, face grim and eyes downcast. His horse trodded onward, its soft gait echoing the rider's heart. Then came the bodies. The missing limbs, the slow aching steps, the groan each time the carts bounced on a loose rock. The image of the proudly uniformed Scouts cracked a tiny bit in Elijah's mind and the child swallowed. Then, the crowd started to murmur, and Elijah felt righteous anger burn in his chest. How could they think that these Scouts deserved this?
"Moses! Moses!"
A mother yelled her son's name in an attempt to find him in the crowd. Elijah watched as she went up to his comrades and asked around. The man she talked to handed her something wrapped. Elijah couldn't see what it was but she saw the mother recoil, fall to her knees, hug the object, and cry. Moses must be dead, Elijah thought. He must have left something important behind… His brows furrowed. The Scout the mother was talking to fell to his knees. And then, "Even if he didn't do anything directly, my son's death helped humanity fight back, didn't it?"
Silence.
It must have.
"No." Elijah didn't hear his response. He edged in closer. "Our recon this time… No."
The Scouts, if it were possible, looked more downcast than before. Elijah did not know what emotion they were displaying. Sadness? It was shame, but Elijah did not know shame. He leaned in even closer. "We never…"
Never?
"Never learn a thing!"
A heartbeat. "It's all my fault! My own incompetence killed our men! And we still don't even know what they are!"
Elijah scrambled off the roof and ran away. He chided himself as foolish as he thought back to his father's lessons. As if anyone could explain the origins and reasonings of a monster. As if anyone, any human, could dare take on one. And how he thought that he might one day join the ranks of those… heroes? Elijah leaned against a corner and waited until the shouting died down and the Survey Corps left. I don't know what to think. He considered talking to his parents about what he saw today, but he knew their thoughts on the Survey Corps and Titans already. The sun rose high as Elijah wandered around the streets, the bustling atmosphere of the lowly but jocular outer district somehow brought down by an unseen shadowy pressure.
It seemed, for most the first time, that the walls were looming instead of grand.
He was lost, lost more than he usually was, lost in thought, and lost in the shadows of that looming wall. The shadows ate away at his sense of time and when he looked up again, the clouds had circled around the city, bringing in new shapes and new shades, the lighter green of evening taking over the blue skies of the afternoon as the unseen reds and oranges started to fade in beyond the horizon. Elijah had a person in mind that he could go talk to who would welcome his company, but Elijah didn't have the necessary momentary motivation and courage to approach him. Finally, frowning, Elijah made his way to Wall Maria, where he searched around the guard huts and restricted areas. The guards were displaying their usual sense of ambitionless duty. Playing cards, clanging cups, sleeping against the walls, their rifles cradled in crossed hands as cattle and caravans passed through the gate unimpeded. The Garrison, a sorry sight, but alleviated sore eyes after what the Survey Corps had brought in earlier. Crouching around, Elijah sulked the area unseen, passing between huts and supplies. A hand clasped his shoulder when he was getting too close to the gate controls.
Elijah whirled around. "Lieutenant Lancer!"
"Elijah," Jonas Lancer said. "How are you doing?"
"I'm fine, thank you," Elijah replied as the two of them walked over to a bench.
"What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you. To talk."
"... You saw the Survey Corps today?" Elijah nodded and sat while Jonas took a seat on top of the backrest. "They weren't what you thought, right?" Jonas sighed as Elijah nodded again and took out a cigarette. "They're not bad people."
Elijah was silent for a moment. "Mom says that you shouldn't smoke anymore."
Jonas handed Elijah an unlit cigarette. "Your mom doesn't know shit."
Elijah put the cigarette in his mouth. "Why do the people hate the Scouts, sir?"
"Because they suck." Elijah looked at Jonas. The Lieutenant took a drag. "Now, now. I'm not saying they're bad people. But they suck at their jobs. They're brave people. Good warriors, even. But you heard them today, right?" Elijah looked down.
"They haven't accomplished anything." Jonas leaned forward and hummed. "And this expedition of theirs failing this badly. With that display on the road? The talks of disbanding the Survey Corps is only going to intensify."
"Disband? They can't disband the Survey Corps! They're going to help reclaim humanity's land!"
"Elijah. Do you know how big the world out there is?" Elijah shook his head. Jonas hummed again and took another drag. "Me neither. Think about it. How are they going to take it all back?"
With the Survey Corps, Elijah wanted to say, but he knew that wasn't an answer, and he knew that even if it was, what he saw today no longer made it a valid answer. "With steel," Elijah said instead, feeling witless once the words left his mouth. "Steel blades and steel wills."
Jonas chuckled. "Titans infest every corner of the world. They've destroyed most of humanity already. You don't think we had steel before? Or even now? The Titans aren't winning. They've won. If the Titans could do that, all those years ago, how are we going to defeat them when we don't even know what they are? How long would it take even if we could?
A year? Ten? A hundred? Hell, unthinkably, a thousand? Would there be a point in trying if the scale is that large?"
"I don't-"
"It's okay to hold a different opinion. But you have to understand why their already low funding might get cut even further."
"I. I think so?"
Jonas laughed and ruffled Elijah's hair. "Don't worry about it, kid."
"So who gets the most money?"
"Ah. Well. That would be the Military Police. Or. Well. No, because it's us, the Garrison. But we only get more because we're so large. It would be impossible to upkeep anything otherwise. The MPs are the best-funded, but they aren't the most."
"The MPs are supposed to be our protectors."
"Eh."
"I don't know why my father wanted to come to Shinganshina." Jonas looked down at Elijah with a raised eyebrow. "I've been back to visit both the Akermans and the Ackleys. The places they come from are a lot better. Less crowded. Less dirty. Less. Danger… I saw someone selling… the heroin on the street; today."
Jonas looked down at him. "Coderoin?"
Elijah nodded. "Yeah, that. The bad drug."
"Hm. Well. If you want safety, the north might be even better than the inner districts. But don't quote me on that, I haven't been there."
"Are you going to do anything about it, sir?"
"We should. Maybe. I mean. Technically speaking, that kind of law enforcement still falls under MP jurisdiction. Coderoin is more of an underground or inner district problem anyway."
"The Military Police won't fix it. Not here."
"No, they probably won't." Jonas took another drag and exhaled slowly. "Not all Military Police members are jacka-... Idiots and morons, El. You have to be in the top ten of the training camp to be allowed to enter the Military Police. They're highly skilled. Well. Then you have the nepotists and the wealthy… Some. Some of them are good."
"What's a nepotist?"
"Haha. A person who shows… favoritism to people related to them."
"Then, they give people positions in the Military Police without them actually being worthy of it?"
"Good boy. You got it."
They talked further with patches of silence dotting their conversation. It was idle chatter that contributed little intellectually to either party, but it was a nice change of pace for both. After a while, Elijah fidgeted. "Sir," Elijah began, "can you take me up the wall?"
Jonas laughed. "That's military property, kid."
Elijah looked away sheepishly. "I know, sir."
"That's against regulation, you know? I"
"Being drunk on duty is against regulation," Elijah fired back.
The Lieutenant smirked and nodded in mock consideration at the statement. He flicked away the cigarette butt and Elijah stared at it, the tobacco still burning. That's littering, Elijah wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Jonas got off the bench and stretched his back. "Might as well get a patrol in, then. Anna! Rally the company, we're going up."
Elijah jumped off the bench, a smile on his face. "You're taking me up?"
"Yup. Take a walk along the wall, make sure everything's alright."
A number of men slowly roused themselves under the order of Jonas's second in command and stood, mostly drunk, in front of their commanding officer. "Listen up, men," Jonas said as Elijah stood behind him, "we're headed up the wall to do a routine walk around." Jonas turned to Elijah and held out his arms. "Come on."
Elijah looked at him in confusion. "I can walk to the elevators."
Jonas smirked. "We're not using the elevators."
The sound of pressurized gas releasing brought Elijah's attention to the other men who launched their hooks and cables into the sides of the wall and lept off the ground in a brilliant display of acrobatic skill. Drunk as some of them were, they all maneuvered in the air with brilliant grace. Without warning, Jonas picked Elijah up and threw him in his chest. Elijah quickly grabbed on and was in the air himself a second later. The wind was unrelenting and the ground seemed to reject him. The air was forced out of Elijah's chest. He laughed. Jonas retracted the hook and stopped boosting himself, letting momentum carry the duo over the top of the wall, and they came hurtling toward the roof. With expert precision, Jonas twirled and let out just the right amount of thrust to land spinning on his feet.
Elijah stumbled onto the floor and wobbled as he tried to stand straight. "Well," Jonas asked.
"It was… amazing."
"Haha, I'm sure it was."
Elijah steadied himself and breathed. As he straightened, he winced at the light in his eyes and looked over to his left, toward the sun, and toward the edge of man. The inside, the land between Wall Maria and Wall Rose, was vast, but what Elijah witnessed now was unending. Suddenly, the realization of infinite possibilities welled up in the boy and he felt a surge of desperation. The feeling resided and the anger was quelled as Elijah turned away. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Jonas said.
"I feel small, sir."
Jonas laughed. "You're nine years old, you are small," he replied. "Let's check out the wall then."
The unit began walking. Crates, campfires, and scattered cups of alcohol. Open boxes of canon balls, bags of gunpowder, and cannoneers drilling with empty barrels. Flags flying in the wind, the shouts of officers berating their subordinates, and the stomp of marching feet. "Do your parents know?" Jonas asked suddenly.
"About what, sir," Elijah replied.
"You wanting to join the military."
"It's only a thought, sir. I don't know… But they do. Sort of."
"Mhm. And you think you want to join the Survey Corps? Become a Scout?"
"Or, or maybe the Military Police."
"Hah, not the Garrison?"
Elijah didn't answer, embarrassed, and Jonas laughed. "Who knows? Maybe you'll change your mind in three years. I think I'll make Captain by then, don't you?"
"I don't think the Garrison would be well off with you in charge of a whole regiment."
Elijah let out an oomph as Jonas shoved him lightly. "Cheeky bastard."
Elijah smiled and looked over the side. He had felt small, but he allowed himself the moment to play a fantasy in his mind. For the moment, he was above all the rest and the buildings were small in turn. He, he was the large one. It was… Disconcerting at the very least.
Elijah stopped, watching the distant horizon turn red, observing all the land that was outside the walls that they would never take back. If I could take them back, Elijah thought but quickly dismissed the idea. He was no hero king like in the fairy tales, waving a magical sword and commanding the skies. He raised a hand out of his pocket, grabbing at the sun, but retracted and winced once his eyes started to water. Maybe I have a wizard as an ancestor, Elijah thought. He raised his hand again and closed his fist around the outer gate. In the bright skies of the early evening, as the shadows of the wall rose and the sky became a darker green, as the clouds drifted lazily, turning silver, as the birds flew in the open air, lightning struck the ground. The earth shook and Elijah saw his world tilt. He choked.
A hand had grabbed his collar and was pulling on him. A second later, he realized that his body was leaning off the wall, primed to drop to his death. Jonas heaved and Elijah fell onto the floor with a huff. "Damn it, kid," Jonas said, breathing heavily as adrenaline spiked his blood.
Elijah stared at the gate as he adjusted his collar. Did… did I do that? "Lightning?" Jonas muttered, shielding his eyes as he looked into the sky. "No, there's no stormclouds. Some idiot, heh, set off one too many bombs, eh?" With a sigh, Jonas took out his flask and started making sure the men under his direction were safe and orderly. "Prepare a messenger. Find out what the hell happened down there." Jonas uncapped his flask and put it to his mouth, but stopped when he noticed his people weren't moving but rather staring. "What," Jonas asked.
The flask in his hand slipped and clattered to the ground, the faint bubbling of alcohol pouring out the bottle inaudible over the sound of Jonas's own heartbeat. He tried to swallow to get the lump out of his throat but he couldn't. Beside him, Elijah started to inhale deeply and exhale quickly. His hands shook and his vision flared white. "That can't be," Jonas said. "That's impossible. Those walls, they're fifty meters tall!"
The red hand that gripped around the top of the outer wall, devoid of conventional skin, tightened its hold, and pieces of the structure fell to the ground. The steam parted and a round shape emerged from within. A monstrous face, more inhuman than any titan drawing in any book. Giant beady eyes, without emotion, and teeth that would crush a man alone, on a skinless face, its bones gleaming white. It blinked. It stared down at the people as if they were ants and he was a god. It leaned backward to destroy all that Elijah had ever known. Blood rushed to Elijah's ears and he couldn't hear Jonas's yelling anymore. Alone with his heartbeat, Elijah stood at eye level with the monster as it kicked down their door.
Small 1/2 AOT side pieces for updates when I'm tired of writing DMT and DoD. Keep an eye out for the second one. Dawn of Demons returning soon.
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