First off, let’s not pretend the man didn’t flip the script on what it means to be a main character. Eren Yeager started off in Attack on Titan as your classic shonen protagonist—loud, emotional, a bit reckless, but driven by a clear mission: destroy all Titans and reclaim the world. Standard stuff, right? Wrong. Because as the series evolved, so did Eren. His arc didn’t just shift. It transformed. It redefined.

Let’s talk about range. The boy went from crying in the corner to starting The Rumbling. Millions gone with a single decision. This is no longer about power levels or epic speeches. Eren is about choices. Hard, brutal, unforgivable choices. And that right there? That’s what separates the boys from the legends. He doesn’t play the hero. He doesn’t care if you like him. He cares if his people live free. That level of conviction? That level of sacrifice? Hall of Fame worthy.

Now don’t get it twisted. There are levels to this game. Goku might have more battles. Luffy might be more beloved. Light Yagami had intellect. Naruto had heart. But Eren? Eren had purpose and he saw it through to the bitter end. He didn’t waver. He didn’t apologize. He became what the world needed and feared at the same damn time.

But here’s the kicker—and I need everybody to hear me loud and clear. As revolutionary, as iconic, as jaw-droppingly bold as Eren Yeager was—he is not the greatest of all time. He’s up there. He’s in the room. He’s at the table. But he’s not sitting at the head. Why? Because being the greatest means embodying everything. Heroism, longevity, cultural impact, and moral clarity. Eren chose chaos. He chose ambiguity. That does not make him unworthy. That makes him complicated.

Eren Yeager is one of the most fascinating, polarizing, and brilliantly written protagonists in anime history. He changed the game. But he is not the game. He’s on Mount Rushmore, but he’s not the face carved deepest.