The Cost of Knowing: How Truth Destroys Humanity in *Attack on Titan* and *Made in Abyss*

Hey everyone, Osamu Manga here!

Do you remember the look in Eren’s eyes near the end of *Attack on Titan*? As he stared toward the horizon, the light seemed to have vanished from his gaze. For a boy who began his journey with the simple, burning desire to "exterminate the Titans," the moment he discovered that there were "people just like us" on the other side of the sea brought a profound, quiet despair.

Today, I want to explore a shared theme between *Attack on Titan* and *Made in Abyss*: the devastating price of uncovering the truth.

The Weight of a "Truth" That Shatters Morality

In its early stages, *Attack on Titan* is presented as a straightforward survival horror—humanity versus monsters. It’s a simple, visceral structure: humans trapped within walls, hunted by mindless, irrational beasts.

However, as the mystery of the basement unfolds, the genre shifts into a sweeping historical epic. The monsters are replaced by something far more complex: humans, just like us, filled with their own struggles and conflicts.

The truth Eren uncovered was more than just mere information; it was a force that fundamentally dismantled his concepts of "justice" and "enemy." By crossing the boundaries in pursuit of freedom, he was met with the cruel reality that his very existence was an act of invasion against others.

I believe this is where the true genius of the writing lies. The revelation of the mystery isn's a "reward" for the characters; instead, it functions as a curse that breaks their moral compass. As readers, the more we learn, the more we feel a growing horror at our own inability to stop Eren from his path.

To know the truth is to have your "justice" rewritten into a "sin." This inescapable weight is what gives the story its profound, suffocating depth.

The Abyss: A Price Paid in Flesh

In contrast, the approach to "truth" in *Made in Abyss* is much more physical and inescapable.

Descending into the Abyss offers the chance for incredible discovery and priceless treasures, but it comes with the "Curse of the Abyss"—a physical or mental toll that makes ascending nearly impossible. To return from the depths is to undergo an irreversible transformation of the body and the mind.

As the characters pursue the truth, they gradually, but certainly, lose their physical and human forms. This isn't just a psychological struggle; it is a biological loss, where even their very cells are being reconstructed into something else.

If *Attack on Titan* depicts the transformation of ideology and values, *Made in Abyss* depicts the transformation of physical identity. In both series, the core of the narrative lies in this irreversible change—once you step forward, you can never return to the "human" you once were.

This horror of physical metamorphosis makes the characters' curiosity feel less like a simple sense of adventure and more like a self-destructive impulse.

The Terror of Redefining "Humanity"

When you place these two masterpieces side by side, they lead to one chilling conclusion:

The process of discovering the truth is, in essence, the process of killing your "former self."

In *Attack on Titan*, the truth rewrote the structure of the world and the history of its people. For Eren, freedom was no longer an innocent dream; it transformed into a cruel, unrelenting will to trample others.

In *Made in Abyss*, touching the truth of the Abyss is a path toward abandoning the human form and embracing the monstrous.

There is a fascinating parallel here:

In *Attack on Titan*, "death" and "loss" represent the collapse of identity and the destruction of held beliefs.

In *Made in Abyss*, "death" and "loss" represent the erasure of physical form and biological boundaries.

In both stories, what awaits the characters at the end of the mystery is not salvation, but a heavy, tragic price: the loss of the very definition of what it means to be human.

To uncover the truth is to open a new world, but it is also to bury your former self in a place from which you can never return. It is this portrayal of inescapable metamorphosis that elevates both works beyond mere fantasy, making them hauntingly beautiful, yet profoundly cruel, tales.