Behemoth

They warned us.

They warned us, they taught us, they trained us. Off the backs of thousands of starving people we were funded to be here. To protect not only our families but humanity itself. And what is it that I do? I pause.

A pause is a costly mistake. But even though the enormity of the situation is resting so heavily on me I can hardly breathe, I just can’t seem to awake from it. They warned us they would do this. Those creatures. They told us they would try everything they could to survive.

Despite their beastly appearances, they could use their emotions just as humans did to manipulate their prey into submission. The bipedal monstrosity in front of me now was composed of nothing but rotting flesh and pitch black eyes. It had two holes for a nose and an unfathomable number of teeth.

The creature let out a throaty sob as it staggered backwards from the deathly blow of my sword into its lumpy bloated guts. A foul smell, like decaying fish, erupted at the same time as it’s tar-like blood. Luckily, as I stood stunned, it threw itself to the ground and curled in on itself. It was ready to die.

This was my first Behemoth. I stared at it writhing on the floor, it’s belly full of worms and entrails pooling to the ground in a wiggling mess, inching closer and closer to my boots.

The moment I stepped outside the Wall myself, it had been ready to kill me, without reason and without mercy. They knew nothing but hate. In that moment, it had been it or humanity itself. And I would always choose humanity.

Watching it cry on the ground as it’s life left its eyes, I finally understood something: that I would have to hate it just as much as it did me if I wanted to survive.

I kicked its own entrails into its face and shoved my boot into it’s horrid gaping mouth. It didn’t deserve to live nor did it deserve to die a better death. What mercy was I given? None.

I hear a voice over my audio-link. It’s my training commander, “Back to base, Magari.”

I shake myself off to rid myself of the feeling and as ordered, I turn away from the creature. As soon as it is out of my view, I feel an immense sense of accomplishment. I killed it with one hit after all, and no other Legionnaire can claim that win yet today.

I look down at the heart-shaped locket which served as the key to my Arms Unit. It was still firmly encased within the chestplate. I press the switch just at my wrist. My Arms Unit blasts fresh hydrogen and I pick up speed.

A sourness in my stomach rises. I clench my jaw. If I had to feel this way every single time I killed one of those beasts, then that was just the way it was. It wasn’t about me, or the way I felt about it, it was a job that had to be done. I was capable. I was skilled and I had to do this. For humanity.

The word ‘selfish’ pops into my mind. I cannot be selfish. And to do that, I just had to do as I said. Treat these creatures with the same level of respect they gave me.

I see the great towering building come into view, a circular dome resting at the top where all the training commanders and top generals were watching us be formally initiated into the Legion. Reaping what they have sown.

What did they see when they looked at me? Do they see a new, peaceful, tomorrow in my every kill? Death would surely come for us. All of us. Probably sooner rather than later. Would we rather die, contributing to the cause of the human race? Or die alone, unwanted and useless? I remember watching my parents suffer and eventually die in the mines for the sake of the Behemoth Legion. I thought they were heroes, dying a hero's death. I never shed a tear.

Is that what they will see in me too?

The dining hall was eerily silent. The person who sat next to me was never the same, so I didn’t even bother to look at their faces. Our commanders changed our seating every meal to prevent the possibility we’d form friendships. Friendships would only hinder our judgement in difficult situations on the field. We were all comrades, and that was enough. It had to be.

We always had to be ready to put our full trust in any other Legionnaire. Any other human being for that matter, and indiscriminately. We were all on one lifeline, we shared a pulse, and there was no other option. To discriminate among your own would be nothing short of suicide. ‘Suicide’. ‘Selfish’. These words come to mind when a voice breaks my concentration.

“You did great today, Legionnaire Magari.”

I look over, surprised. Something that had never happened before, happened today, and in a world of repetition and automation, that was rare indeed. Sitting next to me was one of my first training group comrades, Schmit. He killed his Behemoth today too, but only after a painstaking five minute run. It was too long. His usually cool tone seemed so alien now. It was still composed, but at the edges, it seemed insincere.

“I did.” I agreed with a nod, looking down to my tray of food, “Thank you for your commendation, Legionnaire Schmit.”

“And yet you hesitated.” He said this so quietly, I second-guessed if I’d even heard him correctly. I had scored top rank in the initiation. I looked at the screen displaying our rankings at the top of the stage. I stared at my name, looking at the photo of myself beside it. My face had become so severe it wasn’t one I recognized immediately. My under eyes were purple with sleep deprivation and my skin was the color milk. My black hair was cut to the same standard issue cut for the entire Behemoth Legion, just above the ears. My chapped lips sat pale and expressionless.

Schmit caught my gaze and looked at the ranking display, “Hm. Replace our eyes with black and we might look like ‘em. Hm?”

The hairs on my arms stand on end as I smell the alcohol on his breath, “Not even close.” I refuse to look his way, I’m not entertaining this, it would be dangerous.

“Oh, it’s a joke, Magari.” He murmurs beneath his breath with a little groan, bringing his mug to his lips again, “I did piss fucking poor today, let me have a joke.”

Our training commanders and the three generals are taking the stage . I look at him and see his eyes are tinged with an irritated shade of pink. He seems disgusted with me when he looks away. I don’t understand. This cannot be Schmit. His chiseled jawline and broad shoulders stand in sharp contrast with his shrinking form as he curls into himself. He was supposed to be at the top of that chart, not me.

Schmidt suddenly looks back at me and raises his mug a little in my direction, “Well, it’s not like you’ll have to worry about me much longer anyway. I got cut.” The word ‘selfish’ comes to mind.

In the night, we all slept in communal houses which had been abandoned maybe fifty or sixty years before. They were from a time known as the Great Loss, when the old Legion line was broken by the Behemoths and this town was almost completely destroyed. But it really depended on your definition of ‘completely destroyed’.

Even if these small groups of houses were still standing here, in shoddy dilapidated pieces, did that mean the town wasn’t ‘completely destroyed’? Even if every man, woman, and child was eaten whole? Ripped apart? How do you define ‘completely destroyed’? First, you’d need to define a town, so picture one in your mind. Did you think of the buildings or the people first?

I grab the heart locket from around my neck. I know what’s inside but I’m not allowed to look inside, and I’ve followed this order well. Inside, I have been told, is a piece of a Behemoth's heart. It used to be said that Behemoth Heart could be used to heal illness and injury.

I squeeze the locket in my hand and let it fall onto my chest, pulling my arms behind my neck and closing my eyes.

Within moments, I feel weightless, my heavy legs and arms are featherlight, the pressure in my head is lifting. As I begin to drift, I see faces pass by eyelids, nondescript, like mannequins wearing human skin pulled taut against their plastic heads.

A human face finally comes into view, it’s one that I recognize, but I don’t know from where. I can feel my heart racing inside the cavern of my chest, thudding like the hooves of a Behemoth, quicker and quicker. It’s on the hunt, and it’s inside me.

I look down and see it. This creature inside me is clawing through my skin, it’s long bony fingers desperately trying to surface until my flesh becomes weak and translucent and I can see the outline of its hands beneath my own skin. It is a Behemoth. The claws pierce through me and it emerges. I try to pull myself together as a sea of entrails and worms flows through my fingers in spite of my efforts.

The face is looking at me again when I look up. I now recognize it’s the same face I have seen in my dreams, over and over again my whole life. But this time, it feels real. It feels so close to me, I could touch it. I can feel the heat from his cheek, I reach out.

The face turns to fear and morphs into the eyes of the hideous creature which I killed in initiation. It’s black soulless eyes are fixated on me, tears streaming from it’s cheeks. Then I realize my sword, an extension of my Arms Unit, is firmly in it’s guts again. The tears fall harder.

It’s just mourning itself because it didn’t kill me first. Selfish. I smirk.

But then, why did I feel like this? What is it? I search for the word in my mind’s eye as I watch it writhe in pain. Regret? Is that the word I’m looking for? That couldn’t be right. I shake my head, watching it’s guts fall from it’s stomach, the tears down it’s eyes. It was disgusting, it was vile, it was the reason for so much loss and suffering, not only in my life but everyone’s life I’ve ever known. These creatures have created every problem I could think of.

Without them, we would be able to move forward and progress.

Then it changed. The creature morphed and it was the person from before. Their face and body was suddenly clear, and what stood before me was undeniably human. I staggered backward, my sword pulling from it’s body at the same time. I studied it as it began to fall to the ground, pulling at his own version of the same Arms Unit. It even had a locket plugged in the very center, humming it to life. I touch my own in disbelief. And this time, instead of an inhuman sob he cried out in my own language, “Human?” It was a question.

He collapsed, his sobs were clear now, “You’re human?” He said, over and over, “You’re human?” He sobbed. I was frozen. I could only watch while his breaths became shallow and his eyes began to fade.