"Play with the minds of your allies in order to control the world." The voice of a man still echoed in Gale's memories, as clear as if he had heard it just moments ago.
He described him as someone identical to himself, a living image that reflected his origin. He even thought that Gale, who was merely a being seeking his own survival, was a different version of himself.
That man, with whom Gale had met in his dreams, was called—or called himself—a purpose, one who is better known as simply a friend.
Of course, Gale knew him; in truth, his presence did not surprise him at all. He had expected to meet emblematic figures, beings who brought change, and people who had walked the same path as him.
Those who had walked the same path as Gale and failed advised him to act quickly, not to grow overconfident, and to be decisive against his enemies.
But Friend—he was different. The only thing he said was: "Control the world and you will live like a god."
For Gale, those words carried weight in his thoughts. His only way to win was to stand above all things; that was why he listened to their advice and learned from them.
And he understood that killing all the nobles was something that should not be avoided—every adult capable of thinking had to die.
That was the conclusion Gale had reached: he would only allow the children to live alongside their mothers.
Only Gale remained inside his room at this moment, a place that had once been the home of a noble.
This mansion was even more luxurious than where he used to live, but Gale did not allow himself the luxury of idleness.
He took the stack of reports that his assistant had most recently submitted, spreading the scrolls across the entire desk. One by one, he read them with sharp eyes.
A pattern quickly emerged.
The most frequently reported problem was the rampant proliferation of gangs in city after city, whose illegal power was driving the lives of ordinary people into misery.
Time and again, the local garrison offices attempted to take repressive measures. And time and again, their efforts ended in failure.
Then, naturally, they submitted petitions to parliament, requesting additional funds from the treasury, claiming they needed more resources to recruit men and eliminate the gangs.
Gale's jaw tightened when he heard that.
Now, under the new government, one did not need to be a genius to carry out a scheme that would generate benefits for the nobles.
Even if he had purged many families, their shady businesses were truly like a parasite that was difficult to eliminate.
In these petitions, even if the Treasury were to grant those funds, how much would actually be used to combat crime?
Most of it would disappear into private pockets.
The so-called local garrison would fill their own pockets first, and as for the gangs, Gale suspected that many of them had been supported by these same officials and noble families who disagreed with having their noble status stripped away.
"Vile parasites…"
Gale's hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles turning white. But the gangs were not the only matter worth noting.
Two other points in the reports caught his attention.
There were complaints that Titans should not be used as the main means to instill fear in the population. Many Titans had taken the lives of countless soldiers of the Survey Corps, and their families, who hated the Titans, were now complaining that those monsters were being used as tools.
Gale agreed with this, but once again, he could not replace Titan labor with human labor.
Once things were no longer so urgent, he would leave the Titans as stories of the past.
"Transmit my order: kill the remaining nobles who have escaped without mercy." Gale's cold voice echoed through an old room filled with a thick smell of blood.
"I will report back with results."