by Pirateaba
The Soldiers were killing each other.
There was no order to it, no clear indication where violence began or ended. Each Soldier still living—and there were countless bodies on the floor—was going around, hitting other Soldiers with their bowls, using all four hands to pummel each other to the floor. They were treating everything and everyone like an enemy, but they made no attempt to block when they were struck. They simply let the other Soldier tear bits of their carapace off and let the green ichor spill from their bodies.
“What is this?”
Pawn screamed the words at Klbkch as the Revalantor entered the room. Klbkch had both blades raised defensively as he looked around at the bloodbath.
“You tell me. These Soldiers were completely fine yesterday, but they started butchering each other ten minutes ago. Workers tell me you were spotted entering this room thirty minutes before they started this madness.”
“Me? I—yes, but I never told them to do this!”
He would have never done that. Klbkch just stared at him.
“Then why is this happening?”
Pawn had no answer. He stared at the Soldiers. One had taken a bowl and was smashing another’s head in with it. Pawn ran forwards.
“Stop! What are you doing?”
The Soldier took no notice of Pawn. Pawn tried to pull him back, but the Soldier just threw him backwards. Pawn stumbled away and stared around.
“They’re killing each other? Why? Why do this?”
“What did you say? Have they become Aberrations?”
Klbkch’s sword was aimed right at Pawn’s head. The Worker raised his arms.
“I didn’t say anything!”
“You said something. What were you telling them?”
“Just stories!”
“Stories? About what?”
“God.”
The sound Klbkch made was between a screech and a shout. He struck Pawn with the pommel of his sword, so hard Pawn felt his cheek chitin crack.
“You fool. I ordered you not to—”
“I didn’t meant to hurt them! I just wanted to give them hope!”
Pawn cried out as he retreated from the furious Klbkch. The Revalantor looked around at the chaos.
“You call this hope?”
“No! I never wanted this. I was just telling them about heaven, last night. Just heaven—”
Pawn’s breath caught in his throat. He stared around at the Soldiers dying and realized what had happened. His heart became ice in his chest.
“No. Heaven.”
Klbkch looked around grimly.
“Explain.”
“I—I told them that when they died, they could go to Heaven. A place without pain. A place—”
“You told them that?”
Pawn couldn’t look at Klbkch. He stared at a fallen Soldier, his body a mass of holes. No. He hadn’t meant it like that. But he had, hadn’t he? He’d told the Soldiers that when they died they wouldn’t have to fight anymore, to suffer. And they’d believed him. They’d believed him so much that they’d taken the fastest route to get to heaven:
Suicide.
“There are four hundred Soldiers here. If they all die—”
Pawn didn’t listen to Klbkch’s threat. He ran forwards, shouting. The Soldiers were deathly quiet as they fought each other, but the noise of body parts crunching and things breaking was still loud enough.
“Stop! Stop this! This isn’t the way!”
None of the Soldiers looked at him. Pawn shouted desperately and tried to pull a trio of Soldiers beating a fourth one down apart. They ignored him, only shoving him back. He used all of his strength, but they were far stronger.
“Soldiers!”
Klbkch’s voice was a roar. He strode forwards, brandishing his swords.
“Desist at once! Obey my command and stop!”
A few of the Soldiers looked over at Klbkch. He was a commanding presence, but even his twin swords couldn’t intimidate the Soldiers. They were fearless. And even as he spoke, a Soldier rushed at him.
Klbkch immediately ran the Soldier through, but that was what the Antinium had wanted. The Soldier pushed himself onto the blades, letting them pierce his chest. Klbkch cursed as he pulled the blades loose, but then another Soldier ran at him, swinging aimlessly. He was trying to get Klbkch to kill him too!
Pawn watched, horrified as Klbkch cut the Soldiers’ arm off and the beheaded him. The Revalantor fell back, cursing, as more Soldiers rushed at him, letting him cut them down.
“Stop! Stop! You must stop! This is not the way to get to heaven!”
If they did not go to heaven, then they would go to hell. That was what Erin had said. But the Soldiers weren’t listening. They were trying to find relief, relief from their suffering. Pawn understood that. But this—
This was a sin. One of the worst ones. They would all go to hell. They would suffer, not live forever. That was what God had said. Those were the rules.
He couldn’t stop them. Pawn fell to his knees. He looked up, at where Erin had pointed when she spoke of Heaven.
“God. Is there a God?”
How did it go? Pawn’s hands clasped together and he bowed his head. Klbkch saw that and roared at him.
“Stop that!”
He fought towards him, but now all the Soldiers were rushing him. Pawn ignored Klbkch. He bowed his head. He couldn’t close his eyes, but that was what Erin had said to do, right? And now he prayed? How?
Erin had said it was like a conversation. Pawn tried.
“God? Is that you?”
There was no response. Pawn tried. He tried to activate his Skill.
“[Prayer]. I would like to pray to God. Please. I would like to speak with you.”
Again, Pawn heard nothing. But maybe God didn’t speak? It could just be a feeling. Pawn went on, trying to raise his voice over the sounds of Soldiers dying and his own heart.
“God, I hope you are listening. I beg of you—have mercy on the Soldiers here. Do not let them go to hell. Please. I know it is a sin, but—”
“Pawn!”
Klbkch was shouting at him. Pawn tried to concentrate. He tried to believe, but he couldn’t. Greed liquid was running across the dirt floor, and shards of pottery and Soldiers were strewn across the ground. It was a nightmare. His nightmare.
“A sin. I know it is a sin to kill yourself. But the Soldiers just want—they want forgiveness.”
Lies. It stuck on Pawn’s tongue. They didn’t want that.
“They want to be saved. They want to be free.”
And didn’t they deserve that? The Soldiers suffered. Pawn knew that. He’d seen some who still walked around the Hive, even though their carapace was so badly damaged that it barely hung off their frames. He’d seen them fighting even when parts of their heads had been destroyed.
“They give everything for the Hive. They deserve it. Even if they are—”
Sinful? The Soldiers? Pawn couldn’t imagine it. They killed, yes, but they obeyed orders. They never did anything…wrong. He looked up and gave voice to the question in his heart.
“God, please answer me. What sin did the Soldiers commit? What did they do?”
Nothing. They just lived. They were born for the Hive. How could something like that be sinful? How could a Soldier deserve punishment?
Eat. Fight. Suffer. Die. That was their life. They couldn’t speak; they couldn’t even build anything like the Workers. They just did the same thing forever and suffered as they fought until the day they died. And when they died, the next Soldier would keep fighting until he died. And so on. Forever.
“Please. I beg you. Show them mercy.”
Pawn spoke the words, but he felt no response. Nothing. It was as if there was no one listening. But that was how it worked, right? You believed. And if you believed…
Then what? What if there was no God? What if the Soldiers just died?
Pawn struggled. He had to believe. He couldn’t listen to those thoughts. But no
w Pawn was wavering. His belief crumbled. He had believed. But all he had a Skill which wasn’t working and God—
He was a God for Humans. That was the problem. Maybe they were sinful, but Pawn couldn’t call Soldier sinful. They had been born without any choice; to disobey was to die. How could you condemn something, someone who knew nothing else?
How could you call that sin?
And then, as Pawn thought that, he wondered how he could believe in a God if he couldn’t believe in that. And as soon as that thought hit him, Pawn wondered what he would do if that God didn’t exist. Would he obey another God? Worship someone else? Erin had said there was more than one. What about the God who threw lightning, or the one who was actually countless Gods and Goddesses? How could he choose?
They were all Human Gods, anyways. The Antinium didn’t need a God for Humans. They needed another one.
Was there a God for the Antinium? Pawn looked up and saw only dirt. He listened, but heard only the beating of his heart. And death. He heard the Soldiers hitting each other. That was what echoed in his mind. In his heart. His soul.
He tried to pray, but no one responded. And the Soldiers were dying. The last of them were falling, bleeding. Faltering. And if they died and Pawn was wrong, then what? They would just die, and rot, and nothing would change.
They should not die alone. Pawn prayed, but he heard nothing. He prayed for the Soldiers and felt no one respond. So he stood up instead, and screamed.
“Stop! STOP!”
His voice was not aided by a Skill, but Pawn screamed the word again and again with all his might until there was silence. He saw the Soldiers stop and turn towards him. Klbkch froze with one blade in the body of a Soldier, staring at him.
Pawn raised is hands. He trembled. But he spoke anyways, shouting to the Workers.
“I was wrong. I was wrong. There is no god for us. No place. No one to care for the Antinium.”
The Soldiers froze. They stared at Pawn, not wanting to believe. He sensed their confusion, their anguish. No God?
“I prayed, and I heard nothing. Maybe there is a God. But if so, I can’t hear him. Or her. Or it. I can’t believe in something I cannot see or hear or touch.”
His words felt like rain. Biting, acid rain, tearing away his self. Pawn suffered, and wished he could weep. The Soldiers were just staring, blood covering their bodies.
“But. I believe in heaven. I believed. I believed that there was salvation for us. Someone to remember the Antinium. But maybe heaven is only for Humans.”
Maybe only they had one. Pawn turned to the Soldiers, staring around the room.
“There is no Heaven. Not for the Antinium. But we must have one. We must. So we shall make it for ourselves.”
There. He’d said it. Pawn felt the stillness in the room. He took one shaky breath.
“I cannot believe in a God who will not answer me. I cannot believe in a God I do not see. But I can believe in Heaven. I can believe there is salvation.”
It was a lie. It was truth. Pawn looked around. The Soldiers stared at him, dying, bleeding. But they looked at him, to him, and he told them what was in his heart.
“Believe in that. Believe that no matter what happens, you will be saved. There is a place where the dead Antinium go where we will have no orders, where we will be safe and feel no pain, no hunger.”
He spread his hands, imploring. Beseeching them to understand.
“But believe this: you cannot kill yourself for Heaven. We must build it, in our hearts and here as well. If the Antinium all die, who will believe for us? We must believe for those who fall. Believe for ourselves. And live. We must live.”
He put his hands together. All four hands clasped together, and Pawn spoke. He put all his hopes and wishes and fears and regrets into the words that came next.
“Live. Please live.”
He felt his heart breaking. The Soldiers lay on the ground, dead. Dying. His fault. But he prayed.
“Please. Do not die. Live, and help me. Help the Hive. Help each other.”
Was there a whisper? No. A feeling? No. There was just Pawn, alone and hoping and afraid. But as the Soldiers stopped fighting and Workers rushed into the room with bandages and clotting agents, Pawn saw his prayers answered.
“Put the dead over there! I want as many sacs in here as possible! Wake every Worker in the nearby sections! Move! Now!”
Klbkch shouted the orders as Soldiers lay down or sat, letting Workers tend to them. Pawn knelt on the ground, looking at each Soldier as they wavered, fighting to live instead of die. He couldn’t close his eyes, and that was well. Pawn watched each Soldier without turning away, and saw them pull back from the edge.
“I believe I told you not to pray.”
“You did.”
Pawn stared at a Soldier whose stomach had been ripped open. Green blood pooled around the Worker trying to apply a clear gel to stop the blood flow and contain his organs. No matter how hard the Worker tried, he couldn’t make a seal. But Pawn prayed. He hoped and wished and slowly, the gel began to stick.
“Some are dying even though you pray.”
“Yes.”
Klbkch looked at Pawn. Pawn stared at a dying Soldier, watching him slip away, and then shifted his attention to the next one. And the next.
“What is prayer?”
“I do not know. But I hope. I hope they will live, even if they die. I will continue hoping and believing the next Soldier will live.”
“Regardless of reality?”
“No. I will believe knowing reality. Because that is prayer. Hope for a better reality.”
“Who will you pray to if not a God?”
“I will pray to myself. I will pray to the dead. I will pray to heaven and trust that it exists.”
“Is it enough?”
“I do not know. But if there is a God, I will pray to him, or her, or it, or they if I need to. I will pray to anything or anyone.”
A Soldier lying on the ground, nearly cut in two by Klbkch’s blade stirred. A Worker stopped dragging him towards a pile of the dead and immediately began pulling him towards the living. Pawn let Klbkch sit beside him. He did not care if he was speaking or silent. He didn’t care that one of Klbkch’s swords was poking into his side.
All of his being was with the Soldiers, trying to pull them back with his own two hands. That was why Pawn ran over when the Workers needed help to turn a Soldier over. He was praying as he held a Soldiers’ guts in, and as he fed water to one without a stomach, drop by drop.
Sometime after the last Soldier had been carried away to heal elsewhere, Pawn stood in the center of the room and stared at the dead. He felt each one pulling at his heart, marking his soul. So many. Over a hundred had died, over two hundred probably. All his fault.
But some had lived, and Pawn clung to that. He didn’t look up as Klbkch approached. He just bowed his head.
“If you kill me, will you spare the other Soldiers? They only listened to me.”
“Kill you?”
Klbkch stopped by Pawn’s side. The Revalantor stared at the Worker curiously.
“Why would I kill you? What purpose would it serve?”
“I disobeyed your orders. And I caused the death of countless soldiers.”
“And the rest would have died without you. If I kill you now, they will kill themselves or become Aberration.”
That was true. Pawn nodded.
“Then what?”
“You have a class. [Acolyte], I believe. Perhaps you will level tonight. In fact, I am certain you will.”
Pawn looked up, surprised. Klbkch nodded at him.
“Keep me informed.”
That was it? Pawn looked at Klbkch, confused.
“But what about Gods? Aren’t they a threat?”
“Yes. But you do not pray to a God, do you? And heaven—I see no threat in that.”
“Then—”
“The wounded Soldiers are yours. Care for them, pray for them if it will help them su
rvive. And then test them. I think they may be able to become Individual.”
Pawn stared at Klbkch. The Revalantor looked at him.
“If it will make the Hive stronger, I will let you pray.”
“I see.”
“Sleep, and report to me if you level up. That will be all.”
Klbkch nodded to Pawn and began to walk away. Pawn hesitated, and then turned and called after him.
“Klbkchhezeim? Revalantor Klbkch?”
“Yes?”
Pawn hesitated. But the fear he had in his chest was a small thing now. Too small after all that had passed to hold him back.
“What were the Antinium? Before, I mean. Why do you fear Gods?”
Klbkch stopped in his tracks. He turned his head, and looked at Pawn slowly.
“What you want to know is secret.”
“I know. But would it harm anyone to tell me?”
“It may.”
“Then do not. But I want to know. Who were we? Who are we?”
Pawn waited for Klbkch to turn away and keep walking. But Klbkch didn’t. He studied Pawn, and then spoke.
“Galuc. His name was Galuc.”
“What?”
Klbkch paused. He looked at Pawn, and then looked through him. He looked at something Pawn couldn’t see.
“He was one of the Centenium, and it is his form you all wear. Galuc, the Digger.”
“You mean…did we once look different?”
Klbkch shrugged.
“I did. But my form was lost when I died at sea. Galuc’s was saved and so he remains in each of you. Smaller, and weaker.”
“What was he like?”
Something like a laugh came out of Klbkch’s mandibles, a sound so odd because Pawn had never heard it before.
“Galuc? He was a giant. Strong. Fearless. He would have laughed to know that the Antinium all look like him.”
“And Gods?”
Klbkch shook his head. He turned and began walking again.
“That is a secret. But if you prove you can turn those Soldiers into something more than they are—I will tell you more.”
He left Pawn alone in the room full of the dead. Pawn stood alone, and then stared around. So much death. The ground was stained green. The bodies lay where they had fallen, ready to be recycled into mush.
