Marley, the Empire's Research Department, the Secret Underground Research Institute.
Rundstedt slowly led Roald and Magath through the underground institute's doors.
Once inside, Roald looked around. Crowds of researchers were busy preparing reagents and examining the test data of dozens of subjects. Every subject was a human with needles and tubes embedded all over their body, snarling and roaring incessantly, their faces hideously contorted.
In the distance stood eight enormous tanks, each a full four meters tall. Seven held blood from seven Titans, while the eighth drew blood from all seven. Yet the blood in that eighth tank seemed exceedingly scarce, as though extracting it was extremely difficult.
An elderly man, looking worn and exhausted, stood before the tanks, staring blankly into them.
Rundstedt made his way through the throngs of researchers toward Mogwin.
"Long time no see, Goro."
Rundstedt came up beside Mogwin and addressed him by name.
Mogwin slowly turned toward Rundstedt and said calmly, "Hello, old Marshal."
"I haven't been a marshal for a long time, Goro. I'd much rather you called me Gelt."
"You must be joking, old Marshal. Everyone who used to address you by name is dead now, aren't they?"
Mogwin ignored Rundstedt's attempt at familiarity. Their friendship had died long ago, in the war during which Rundstedt carried out the massacre in Rossman.
Rundstedt paused briefly at his words. "You're the last one, Goro."
"I'm Professor Mogwin. That's how I prefer to be addressed at work, Director von Gelt."
Mogwin's tone was cold and distant, and he addressed Rundstedt only by his surname.
"I had no choice, Goro."
"He's the final vessel, then?" Mogwin stopped paying attention to Rundstedt and looked at Roald instead.
Rundstedt dispensed with further pleasantries and introduced him to Mogwin.
"This is Roald Galliard, the most powerful Titan, an