Why Eren Started the Rumbling
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Why Eren Started the Rumbling (And Why It Wasn’t Just for Paradis)

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Rushabh Bhosale

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Eren started the Rumbling because he saw no other path to protect Paradis Island from the world's hatred. After witnessing future memories showing the island's inevitable destruction, and after the world refused all diplomatic solutions, Eren activated the Wall Titans to eliminate 80% of humanity. His plan had multiple layers: leveling the playing field between Paradis and the world, making his friends into heroes by stopping him, and fulfilling what he believed was an inevitable future. But beneath the strategic reasoning, Eren admitted he would have done it regardless—driven by a twisted desire for freedom and disappointment that humanity existed beyond the walls.

The question "why did Eren start the Rumbling" has multiple answers, and all of them are true simultaneously.

That's what makes Attack on Titan's ending so devastating. Eren's motivations weren't singular or clean. They were layered, contradictory, and ultimately more human than viewers wanted to accept.

He did it to save his friends. He did it because he saw the future and believed it inevitable. He did it because the world left him no choice.

And he did it because, deep down, he wanted to.

The Immediate Reason: The World Refused Peace

On the surface level, Eren started the Rumbling because every attempt at diplomacy failed catastrophically.

Like many anime characters shaped by systemic hatred rather than personal malice, Eren’s turn mirrors the same logic seen in why Sasuke betrayed Konoha, where the system itself leaves no room for reconciliation.

When Paradis discovered the truth about the outside world, they tried peaceful solutions. They sent envoys. They attempted to establish trade relationships. They sought allies who might speak on their behalf.

The world responded with rejection, disgust, and open declarations of war.

Willy Tybur's speech in Liberio crystallized this reality. Speaking before an international audience, Tybur acknowledged that Paradis hadn't attacked anyone in a century. He admitted King Fritz's peace was genuine.

Then he declared war anyway. Because fear and hatred of Eldians transcended logic or self-preservation.

For Eren, watching this speech confirmed what he'd already suspected: the world would never accept Paradis' existence. No amount of good behavior would erase two thousand years of Eldian Empire atrocities from collective memory.

Diplomatic solutions weren't just difficult—they were impossible.

How the World's Hatred Became Insurmountable

The hatred Paradis faced wasn't rational political opposition. It was existential disgust rooted in generational trauma.

The Eldian Empire had oppressed humanity for millennia using Titan powers. Marley and other nations remembered their ancestors being eaten, enslaved, and dominated. That historical wound festered across centuries, creating hatred that no contemporary Eldian could reasonably address.

Where Eren tries to overwrite time itself, other stories choose acceptance instead, a contrast that becomes clearer when compared to why Frieren feels different from other fantasy anime.

Paradis' inhabitants had lived peacefully inside the walls for a hundred years, harming no one. This fact didn't matter. They were still "devils" because they could potentially become Titans.

The world demanded Paradis' destruction not for anything its current people had done, but for what their distant ancestors did and what they might theoretically do in the future.

This created an impossible situation. How do you make peace with people who hate you for crimes committed centuries before you were born? How do you negotiate when the other side's starting position is your complete extermination?

Eren concluded you can't. So he decided to exterminate them first.

The Deeper Reason: He Saw the Future and Believed It

Eren Saw the Future and Believed It
Eren Saw the Future and Believed It

Understanding why Eren started the Rumbling requires understanding how the Attack Titan's power affected him psychologically.

At its core, the Rumbling exposes the emptiness behind unchecked power fantasies, a flaw that becomes obvious in stories like why Solo Leveling feels overhyped after the first arc.

When Eren kissed Historia's hand, he experienced his father Grisha's memories—including memories of future events Grisha himself had seen through Eren's later influence. This created a closed time loop where Eren saw fragments of his own future, including the Rumbling.

This vision fundamentally changed him.

Eren didn't just see a possible future. He saw what felt like an inevitable one, and that vision shaped every decision afterward. The question of whether he chose the Rumbling or was driven to it by predetermined fate became philosophically tangled beyond resolution.

The Attack Titan's Curse of Consciousness

The Attack Titan possesses a unique ability among the Nine Titans: its inheritors can see memories from future successors.

This sounds like an advantage. In practice, it's psychological torture.

Imagine knowing what you'll do in the future but not understanding why you'll do it. Imagine seeing yourself commit atrocities and being unable to determine if you're choosing that path or simply fulfilling a vision you've already seen.

Eren experienced this paradox. He saw the Rumbling in his future memories, then had to live through the years leading up to it, knowing what was coming but unable to tell if his choices were his own or simply him acting out a predetermined script.

This created a form of fatalism that made the Rumbling feel inevitable even when alternatives theoretically existed. If he'd already seen himself doing it, could he actually choose not to?

The anime never definitively answers whether Eren had genuine free will or was bound by destiny. That ambiguity is intentional and central to understanding his state of mind when he activated the Founding Titan.

How Eren Started the Rumbling Without Royal Blood

How Eren Started the Rumbling Without Royal Blood
How Eren Started the Rumbling Without Royal Blood

One of the most common questions is how Eren activated the Founding Titan's full power despite not having royal blood.

The Founding Titan normally requires royal lineage to access its complete abilities. King Fritz implemented the Renouncing War Vow, which prevented royal blooded Founding Titan holders from using its power aggressively.

This created a catch-22: non-royals couldn't use the Founder's full power, and royals were prevented by the vow from using it for anything except pacifism.

Eren found the loophole: physical contact with someone of royal blood.

The Zeke Connection

When Eren made contact with Zeke, who possessed royal blood through their father Grisha's first wife Dina Fritz, he gained temporary access to the Founding Titan's full capabilities.

But because Eren himself wasn't royal, he wasn't bound by the Renouncing War Vow. This allowed him to command the Wall Titans freely while Zeke provided the royal blood necessary to unlock that command.

Zeke initially believed he controlled this arrangement, thinking Eren was pretending to go along with his euthanasia plan while secretly working toward it. The reality was exactly reversed—Eren manipulated Zeke into providing the royal blood key Eren needed to activate the Rumbling.

The moment Eren made contact with Zeke in Paths, he accessed Ymir Fritz directly and convinced her to follow his will instead of remaining bound to royal commands. This severed the royal family's control over the Founding Titan permanently and gave Eren complete authority over the Wall Titans.

Did Eren Do the Rumbling for His Friends?

Yes and no. This is where Eren's motivations become most complicated.

In the final episode, Eren explicitly tells Armin his plan was to make his friends into heroes by having them stop him, thus protecting them from the world's retaliation. By positioning himself as humanity's enemy and his friends as its saviors, he intended to secure their safety and status.

This sounds noble until you examine it closely.

Eren's plan required killing 80% of humanity. He forced his friends to fight him, causing psychological trauma they'd carry forever. He didn't consult them or give them choice in becoming "heroes."

More damningly, he admitted that even if this outcome wasn't guaranteed, he would have done the Rumbling anyway.

The Selfish Core Beneath the Noble Justification

Eren's confession to Armin revealed the uncomfortable truth: protecting his friends was real motivation, but not the only one or even the primary one.

He wanted to wipe the slate clean and create a flattened world. When he learned humanity existed beyond the walls, he felt crushing disappointment that the "freedom" he'd imagined—an empty world to explore—didn't exist.

The Rumbling became a twisted attempt to create that imagined freedom by erasing the humanity that spoiled it.

Much like the deliberate confusion in Sonny Boy, the series never clarifies whether Eren could have chosen differently or whether believing in inevitability is what made it real.

This desire existed alongside his tactical concerns about protecting Paradis and his friends. All these motivations were simultaneously true, creating a psychological mess where noble intentions and genocidal impulses coexisted without resolution.

Eren saved his friends, but he also traumatized them forever. He protected Paradis, but made its people complicit in mass murder. He sought freedom, but achieved it through the ultimate denial of freedom to billions of others.

Why Eren Did the Rumbling Even Though He Knew He'd Die

Eren knew from his future memories that he would die. Mikasa would kill him, ending the Rumbling before total human extinction.

So why proceed with a plan he knew wouldn't fully succeed?

Because partial success still achieved multiple goals. Destroying 80% of humanity meant the remaining 20% roughly equaled Paradis' population, leveling the playing field between the island and the world.

It meant his friends became heroes who saved that remaining humanity, securing their status and safety.

It meant Eldians could no longer become Titans, as Ymir Fritz's release from Paths ended the Titan curse entirely.

And it meant Eren experienced the "freedom" he craved—the ability to impose his will on the world without constraint, even if briefly.

The Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

The tragic irony is that Eren's future memories may have created a self-fulfilling prophecy rather than revealing inevitable fate.

If Eren hadn't seen the Rumbling in his future memories, would he have found different solutions? Would diplomatic efforts have gotten more genuine attempts if he hadn't already "known" they'd fail?

The Attack Titan's power to see the future potentially cursed its inheritors to cause that future by believing it inevitable.

Eren became trapped in a loop where he acted out the future he'd seen because he'd seen it, unable to determine if alternate choices were ever actually possible.

This doesn't excuse the Rumbling. But it contextualizes Eren's psychological state—a young man who saw himself commit genocide in visions and then spent years unable to escape that destiny, whether it was truly fixed or simply became fixed through his belief in it.

The Uncomfortable Truth About Eren's Choice

Here's what makes the Rumbling so difficult to process: Eren wasn't entirely forced into it, but he also wasn't entirely free when choosing it.

The world's genuine refusal to make peace created real constraints. The Attack Titan's future memories created psychological constraints. Ymir Fritz's will and the Founding Titan's power created metaphysical constraints.

But within all those constraints, Eren still wanted the Rumbling on some level. He admitted this to Armin. Even without these external pressures, part of him desired to wipe away the world that disappointed him.

That's the core discomfort. We want villains to be forced into villainy by circumstances or be purely evil. Eren was neither.

He was a traumatized kid given godlike power, shown a horrifying future, surrounded by impossible choices, and ultimately revealed to have destructive impulses that made the worst choice feel satisfying even as it disgusted him.

Why the Rumbling Feels So Devastating

Attack on Titan refuses to let viewers off easy with simple answers.

Eren wasn't mind-controlled. He made choices. But those choices occurred in a context so constrained and psychologically damaged that calling them fully "free" feels inaccurate.

He saved his friends. But he did so through methods they never consented to and trauma they'll never escape.

He protected Paradis temporarily. But the cycle of violence continues, as shown in the post-credits scene where war eventually returns.

He sought freedom. But achieved it by denying freedom to everyone else, making his philosophy collapse into hypocrisy.

The Rumbling works as tragedy because it demonstrates how someone can simultaneously be victim and perpetrator, savior and destroyer, acting from genuine care while causing unforgivable harm.

That complexity is why "why did Eren start the Rumbling" has no single clean answer. Because Eren himself had no single clean motivation.

He was messy, contradictory, traumatized, and ultimately human in the worst possible ways—given power exceeding his wisdom and forced to make choices exceeding his moral capacity.

The Rumbling happened because the world was cruel, because fate seemed inevitable, because diplomacy failed, because Eren saw the future, because he wanted to protect his friends, and because he wanted it.

All of these are true. And that's what makes it so hard to accept.

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Frequently Asked Questions

Why did Eren start the Rumbling in Attack on Titan?

Eren started the Rumbling because he believed the world would never accept Paradis Island and would eventually destroy it. After seeing future memories and witnessing the failure of diplomacy, he chose mass destruction as the only way to protect his friends and homeland, while also fulfilling his own distorted desire for freedom.

Did Eren really do the Rumbling for his friends?

Partially. Eren wanted to protect his friends and turn them into heroes by having them stop him. However, he admitted that even without that outcome, he still wanted the Rumbling on some level. His motivations were both selfless and selfish.

Why did Eren stop at 80% of humanity?

Eren knew from his future memories that he would be stopped before wiping out all humanity. Killing 80% was enough to weaken the world, protect Paradis temporarily, and allow his friends to end the conflict by killing him.

Did Eren know Mikasa would kill him?

Yes. Eren saw fragments of his future, including his own death. He knew Mikasa would ultimately stop him, and he accepted that outcome as part of his plan.

Did the Rumbling end the Titan curse?

Yes. When Mikasa killed Eren and Ymir Fritz was freed from Paths, the power of the Titans disappeared permanently, ending the Titan curse for all Eldians.

Bakugo's Rivalry with Deku Is About Identity, Not Competition
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Bakugo's Rivalry with Deku Is About Identity, Not Competition

Bakugo and Deku's rivalry in My Hero Academia isn't about who's stronger—it's about who they are when strength stops defining them. Bakugo's entire identity was built on being superior to everyone, especially Quirkless Deku. When Deku gains One For All and starts surpassing him, Bakugo doesn't just face defeat in competition—he faces the collapse of his entire sense of self. The rivalry explores what happens when your worth is tied to being the best, when the person you looked down on becomes your equal, and when you're forced to rebuild who you are from scratch. Unlike typical shonen rivalries driven by power scaling, Bakugo and Deku's relationship asks: if you're not the strongest, who are you? Bakugo didn’t lose to Deku. He lost the story he told himself about who he was. Streaming on Crunchyroll and Funimation. The Rivalry That Doesn't Follow the Rules Most shonen rivalries follow a template: two powerful characters push each other to greater heights through competition. Goku and Vegeta. Naruto and Sasuke. The formula works because both rivals start roughly equal. Bakugo and Deku break this completely. Their rivalry begins when one has everything and the other has nothing—built on the assumption that gap will never close. The Childhood That Set Everything Bakugo gained an inflated ego from being praised excessively for his powerful Explosion Quirk, leading him to bully Quirkless Izuku Midoriya. But the bullying wasn't just cruelty. It was self-defense. When they were children, Deku tried to help Bakugo after he fell into a river. Bakugo was offended that a weakling like Deku tried to save him and assumed he was looking down on him. This moment reveals everything. Bakugo's entire identity rested on being superior. A Quirkless kid offering help shattered that hierarchy—so Bakugo rebuilt the wall with violence and contempt. The nickname "Deku" (meaning useless) wasn't just an insult. It was Bakugo's attempt to permanently define someone who threatened his sense of self. When Your Identity Is Built on Being Better Katsuki started out believing his worth was tied to how strong he was. In My Hero Academia's society, Quirks determine value. Heroes are celebrities. Power equals worth. Bakugo absorbed this completely—his Explosion Quirk made him special, and being special became his entire personality. The Problem With Conditional Self-Worth When your identity depends on external validation—being the strongest, smartest, most talented—you're building on sand. Any threat to that superiority threatens your entire existence. Deku represented the ultimate threat: proof that Bakugo's superiority wasn't inherent. If a Quirkless nobody could become his equal, then Bakugo was never special—he just got lucky with genetics. This connects to how comparing yourself to others destroys you in The Pet Girl of Sakurasou—when your worth depends on being better than someone else, you're always one comparison away from collapse. The Identity Crisis Disguised as Competition In Episode 8, Deku defeated Bakugo in a practice exercise. But Bakugo lost not because of his power but because of his arrogance and inability to work as a team. This wasn't just a loss in training. It was existential annihilation. Bakugo's entire worldview rested on a hierarchy where he stood at the top and Deku at the bottom. When Deku wins—not through luck but through qualities Bakugo dismissed as weakness (teamwork, strategy, empathy)—the entire structure collapses. What Bakugo Actually Lost He didn't lose a fight. He lost the story he'd been telling himself about who he was. After he loses to Deku, feels he can't measure up to Todoroki, gets kidnapped, and fails his Licensing Exam, he suffers a massive identity crisis that knocks down his fragile confidence. Each defeat chips away at the foundation. If strength doesn't guarantee victory, what does it guarantee? If being talented doesn't make you special, what does? Similar to how Haikyuu explores effort without a promise of greatness, Bakugo discovers that natural talent without growth is a dead end. Why Bakugo Can't Just "Get Stronger" In a typical shonen rivalry, the solution to falling behind is training harder. Get a new technique. Unlock a transformation. Close the gap through effort. Bakugo does train harder. He does get stronger. It doesn't fix anything. The Problem Isn't Power—It's Perspective If he isn't the strongest and he isn't meant to achieve immediate greatness, then what is his role? It's something that Quirkless Midoriya had to evaluate for many years as a child. What is his purpose in a world that seems destined to leave him behind? Bakugo is forced to ask the same question Deku asked his entire childhood: who am I if I'm not what I thought I was? For Deku, that question led to discovering identity beyond Quirks—heroism as action, not status. For Bakugo, it requires dismantling everything he built his personality on. What Deku Has That Bakugo Doesn't The series explicitly contrasts their approaches to All Might, their shared idol. While Deku admired All Might's ability to save lives with a smile, Bakugo admired his strength and ability to defeat anyone. This difference is everything. Two Different Definitions of Heroism Deku sees heroism as connection—reaching people, protecting them, making them feel safe. Bakugo sees heroism as dominance—being strong enough that threats don't matter, proving yourself through victory. Neither is wrong, but only one is complete. Endeavor has a powerful quirk and is skilled at rescuing civilians, but the reason why he's unable to surpass All Might is because he fundamentally does not care about the people he's saving. Bakugo mirrors Endeavor—technically excellent, strategically brilliant, but missing the emotional core that makes All Might irreplaceable. The rivalry with Deku forces Bakugo to develop what he lacks: empathy, collaboration, the ability to see strength in vulnerability. The Fight That Changes Everything Their second major fight—where Bakugo finally admits his feelings—is when the rivalry transforms completely. Bakugo breaks down. He admits he feels responsible for All Might's retirement. He admits he doesn't understand how Deku got his Quirk. He admits he feels left behind. Vulnerability as Strength For someone whose entire identity was built on never showing weakness, this moment is death and rebirth. Bakugo's ceaseless drive forces Midoriya to become more assertive, and he eventually welcomes the rivalry. Meanwhile, Midoriya's attitude forces Bakugo into a previously unforeseen habit of contemplation. They're not just making each other stronger. They're making each other more complete. Deku learns confidence and assertiveness from Bakugo's refusal to back down. Bakugo learns empathy and teamwork from Deku's instinctive heroism. This parallels how Kids on the Slope shows that relationships force us to grow in unexpected ways—growth doesn't require perfection, just willingness to change. The Ending: Choosing to Redefine Yourself By the series' conclusion, Bakugo's transformation is complete—not because he's the strongest, but because he's rebuilt his identity on different foundations. Bakugo has been a proponent in crafting technology that allows Midoriya to potentially take a physically active role in superheroism again, meaning that the boy who once insulted a character without "powers" has now evolved into a man who wishes to find a way to bring those abilities back. From Contempt to Support The Bakugo who bullied Quirkless Deku now dedicates himself to helping Quirkless Deku become a hero again. Not because he pities him. Because he respects him. His identity is no longer built on being superior to Deku. It's built on being Deku's equal—someone who pushes him forward not through competition but through collaboration. The rivalry doesn't end. It evolves into partnership. Similar to how Bakuman shows the hidden costs of creative ambition, Bakugo discovers that identity built on relationships is stronger than identity built on dominance. What the Rivalry Actually Teaches Bakugo and Deku's relationship isn't about friendship conquering all or rivals becoming brothers. It's about what happens when the person you built your entire identity around surpasses you—and you're forced to decide who you are without that hierarchy. The Uncomfortable Truth About Conditional Identity Most people build identity on external markers: job titles, achievements, being better than peers. When those markers shift—when you get fired, when someone younger surpasses you, when your talent stops being enough—you face the same crisis Bakugo does. Who are you when the thing that made you special becomes common? When your worth can't be measured by comparison? The series doesn't offer easy answers. Bakugo's growth takes the entire series. He relapses into old patterns. He struggles with anger management. But he rebuilds anyway—slowly, imperfectly, honestly. This connects to why Eren started the Rumbling beyond just protecting Paradis—real growth is messy, incomplete, and driven by complex motivations beyond simple heroism. The Rivalry That Saved Both of Them Both young heroes look at the world's number 1 hero for inspiration. While their end goals were the same, the two determined they needed different things to get to their goals. However, as the story progresses both begin to realize that they each lack what the other has. Deku needed Bakugo's confidence, his refusal to accept limits, his aggressive drive to win. Bakugo needed Deku's empathy, his collaborative spirit, his instinct to save rather than defeat. Neither could become a complete hero alone. The rivalry forced them both to develop what they lacked—not through competition, but through recognition. By the end, they're not trying to surpass each other. They're trying to become worthy of standing beside each other. That's not a rivalry about competition. That's a rivalry about identity—and it's exactly why it works.

Filed 8 Feb 2026