It took them weeks. They met other travelers along the way. Some tried to kill them. Others simply run away. They were not that smart and often lost directions, but they stubbornly always found a way forward. Food became scarce, and they had to hunt new and strange creatures in the hellish desert, and monsters hunted them in return. But they mastered their new skills well enough to tear apart all but the strongest hunters. Of course, when humans attacked them, they ran. Killing humans was a line they did not want to cross. But eventually, finally, they reached the ocean. And they began to laugh. Huge tornadoes passed over the horizon, and countless ships were thrown onto the beaches. And dead bodies, many of them reduced to bones, turned the beach into a parched white land. But not all the people had died long ago; they saw whole families who arrived here and ended their lives, faced with the same harsh reality as them.

The coast was once been a place that housed many factories and ports. Some sent out ships to cruise the waters, others built naval assets without halt. They knew it from the books: somewhere in proximity should have been Military Quadrant Delta-78, a sea bastion belonging to the nation that once ruled this land. But try as they might, they hadn’t even caught a glimpse of those proud buildings.

Only when they heard a hiss did they understand the reason. The waters radiated a faint hue of green, barely visible but deadly nonetheless. Droplets of water falling on the bones corroded them, liquefying the flesh of the remains. This wasn’t an ocean any longer; the sea water got mixed with some toxic sludge, and the result eliminated all life in it. Factories, harbors, piers, and the ships themselves all dissolved and landed on the bottom.

And there, in the distance, was the cause. A great shadow loomed over the water, a spaceship that fell from the sky, nosediving into the ocean. Its reactors leaked, spewing green substances into the darkness of the ocean. The thing had to be several dozen kilometers long, maybe even larger; it was impossible to tell from where they stood. Howling wind and waves pounded against the hulk of some unknown alloy, failing to scratch the paint. Whatever caused its destruction happened in space.

“How are we supposed to cross this?!” they laughed in sorrow, finally understanding that they still did not know how to cross the ocean. The journey was something that they could spend time on; they never truly hoped to reach the destination. But seeing how impossible their goal was finally shattered any hope they had left. They felt the pain of hunger but decided to ignore it and walk on the beach of bones. Everything was over anyway. They felt tired—so tired. So many months alone, walking towards the goal for so long, only to understand that they couldn’t reach it.

“What’s the point?!” they cried. “Even if we reach this mythical land... It will all be the same... We are in hell! We are the sinners...” They paused on the cliff, the dark waters raging before them. “And the time has come for us to be judged.”

As they gathered their remaining bodies into one humanoid, they concluded it was the most reasonable course of action.

“It all adds up now,” they laughed, no longer bothering to imitate a single voice. “We never deserved to be smart. Or having an able body. By becoming something other than we were, we sinned. Thus, God took away our parents, took away the world, and punished us! We were the bad ones all along.” They wondered if the water could kill them. Probably, even if they didn’t drown, it would crush them against rocks, eventually. “This is all because of us. Forgive us, God, please, and torment others no more. Have mercy, we beg you.” They took the first step.

A wall of flesh engulfed them. One moment they were standing at the edge of the cliff, and the next moment someone grabbed them into a strange cocoon. The walls of the cocoon were made of flesh. Humanoid-looking eyes opened on the walls, looking at them, while fangs grew out of meat, ready to turn them into mush. Could it be some mutated beast?

What does it matter anyway? They decided. Death is death.

“Shall I crush it?” asked some weird, almost inhuman-sounding voice. To them, it sounded like two different people were speaking at once.

“No, you reprobate!” An unfamiliar voice. Strong and calm, assured in authority. “I said I want to speak to our new guest. Release them at once!”

The flesh disappeared. The compound eyes in the back of them saw how it slid to the ground, moving with blinding speed. Then it folded, disappearing into the lean form of a sad-looking man by simply sliding into the side of his clothes. The man looked at them with disinterest; his sad black eyes shot toward the sea, as if wanting to see something on the horizon. He was dressed in simple black leather, reminding them of the bikers of the world that was-gone-now.

“Pardon us for such a rude introduction.” The man dressed in white robes stepped forward, a smile on his old yet kind face. He looked like an average person, except for his eyes. His eyes were bright; a literal light shone through them. There was no iris to be seen, just blinding light. The man in black leather glanced at the old man; hatred flashed in his eyes and disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “But I heard your woes and stepped in before you would do something irreversible.”

“You’re not afraid of us?” they asked incredulously.

“Why should I?” the man let out a good-natured laugh. “This world has experienced enough cruelty already; I am not the one who would add to that bill for no reason. It is time for all who remain to unite and restore our world.”

“Then you should leave,” they said. “I bring nothing but misfortune to those around me.”

“Is that so?” The man in the white robes tilted his head and made one more step. An enormous figure appeared between them, moving so fast that even they could not see its movements.

The figure was clad in massive iron armor, leaving not a single exposed part of its body. The lenses, like two lakes of molten metal, scrutinized them. They faced bigger monsters; this person right here was around six meters tall at most. Even their worm was longer. But there was something about this figure—something that just screamed death. The armor that the person wore was a suit of power armor, but unlike common models they saw used by the police in the past, this model worked without making a sound; its curves were smooth, and the square-shaped helmet moved with perfect fluidity.

“Keep your distance, preacher,” the person in the armor said. “We do not know if this… thing is dangerous or not.”

“I see no thing here, but a wounded and misguided soul before me,” the man responded to the towering giant, smiling casually. “Who am I to cast others for their looks? Who am I to deny them help? Step aside, Dominator. Let me speak to a fellow human, please.”

The man in the iron disappeared out of sight, leaving neither a footprint nor a sound. Once again, their eyes failed to follow his movement; Dominator appeared near the second man, waiting patiently.

“Now then. Tell me your story, if you would.” The man in white sat on the stones, inviting them to sit nearby.

“You are not afraid of us,” they repeated in shock, sitting down.

“Why should I be afraid? Do you want to harm me?”

“Of course not.” The question surprised them.

“Then why should I be afraid? Is it because of the way you look? Maybe in my younger years I would have been afraid, true. But not anymore,” the man said in a reassuring tone. “I am wiser now and have seen much in the world. But enough about me. Tell me your story.”

They told the truth. What was the point of hiding anything? Struggling to find words, they explained their past and what they were doing all this time as best they could. The man listened without saying anything. He never interrupted, and his attention never wavered. They spoke for a long time, sitting by the ocean.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“You are not in hell, nor are you forsaken,” the man declared at last.

“Not in hell?” they laughed, pointing to the world around them. “Then what do you call this?”

“A broken world. Devastated lands,” the man calmly responded. “God works in mysterious ways. He takes so much from us sometimes…” He looked off into the distance. “But we must also remember that God gave us free will. What you see now, this “hell,” as you rightfully called it… This is not the work of God. No, by human hands, this plight was made. Humans unmade our own world. God loves us all. Never would he send such a plague on us willingly."

“What about the ancient stories? I read them in a book. According to them, God killed this world several times,” they argued.

“A fair point,” the man agreed. “But the revelations tell us that God decided never to do such terrible things again. No, if you can, believe me when I say that what you see now is the work of men, not a deity. It was our hubris that wrought the catastrophe. And so it falls to us as well to rebuild this husk of a world to its former glory and beyond. But we are frail, hurt as of late, and often foolish. God knows our shortcomings, and so God has given us his blessings.”

“Blessings?”

“Yes. Like the one you have. You are one of the Blessed Ones.”

“Blessed?” they laughed anew. “You call this… this!” They showed their hands, the hands made of countless forms of insects whose legs grasped together, to the preacher. “A blessing? It is a curse!”

“I understand your pain.” The man in white nodded. “However, ponder about this some more. You told me you saved several people on your journey here? Would you be able to do the same without your new power?”

“Saved? They ran away. For all we know, someone has killed them already…”

“Here is where you’re wrong.” The man smiled at them warmly. “Do you think our meeting here is mere coincidence? No. We met some people whom you helped. Oh, their stories were a bit confusing, but we understood the main idea. A Blessed One was moving north to the ocean, saving people along the way. We followed you.”

“Why?” They became suspicious, but try as they might, they couldn’t guess why the preacher cared about them. They have nothing. “What do you want from us?”

“It is self-evident. Both you and I can agree that our world can’t go on like this. Both you and I are blessed with powers beyond those of a normal human. It is our duty, before God and humanity, to use them for good and restore what was lost.”

“We are not much of a believer,” they admitted.

“It is of no matter.” The preacher placed a hand on their shoulder. “Many a road leading to God. Unbelievers are as precious as any other people. In his infinite wisdom, God has endowed us all with powers to teach us cooperation and tolerance. Only together can we build a world in which new generations will never even believe that the horrors of today could exist. We are given powers to fill the world with colors, with…” The man paused, thinking about something and struggling to find the right words. “With life and happiness again,” he finally said. “Please.” The man got down on one knee. “Will you lend our group your powers? Will you help us drive back the darkness? I must warn you, though; you will have to take the oath, and this mean…”

“We swear,” they said without thinking. Using their power for others. Working with others. Helping others. No longer being alone. There was nothing to think about.

The man’s face changed. Sweat ran down his temples, as if he was struggling with something. He closed his eyes for a moment and finally said,

“No!” He said it sternly. “No. Forgive me, but no. I cannot accept your oath yet. I will never deceive the ignorant!” he calmed himself. “You see, in this world, blessings take different forms. You must never be careless with your words or desires. Taking the oath to our cause means that you will be bound to us. Even if you want to, you will…” The man paused.

“You will never be able to leave.” The man in black leather interrupted the preacher, looking at him with contempt. “ You will be a slave to a cause, so to speak.”

“No, this is not slavery! It is the greatest sacrifice that one can make for a better tomorrow,” the man replied in a tired voice, as if he were tired of hearing the same argument over and over again. “But Lord Steward is correct. You will become one of us. One of the Oathtakers, the ones who collect oaths for God. If you choose to join us, you will also receive part of my blessing. Everyone who joins us takes the Oath.”

The man continued to speak, explaining in great detail what the goals of the Oathtakers were, and how and why he had formed them. But they had already decided. This was their chance. Someone was ready to take them in. How could they refuse? The preacher stopped several times in the middle of his explanation to ask questions. When he saw his guest was barely listening, the preacher started the explanation again, making sure that they understood the rules and responsibilities that would be placed upon them.

And there were no restrictions! No important ones anyway; why would they want to kill a fellow human being, harm a non-believer based on a difference in faith, or steal? No rape, no beating, no violation—the list went on. The deal was a steal! Who’d even do any of these sick acts?

“Fine,” the man finally said, after they had assured him they will join. “If this is your wish. But you must join as a singular being, not as collective as you think of yourself now. Yes, your bodies are many,” he continued, noticing their confusion. “But your personality is that of one. You are one. Accept yourself and tell me with whom I speak.”

They thought about this request for a while. They…

She

… have always been many, have they not? Since the moment of their...

Her

… rebirth. But their...

Her

… mind was also one, and that was true.

Their.

Her.

Them.

She.

It is decided, then. He thought and looked up. “Name’s Hive. Nice to meet you all. And of course I swear my oath and give my all to your cause, as long as you swear to serve humanity, to protect the weak and to better the land.” For a moment, he felt as if something had tightened in the middle of his non-existent lungs, and then the feeling was gone.

The man smiled: “Greetings, young Hive. I am known as the Owner of Oaths, but you can call me Un; this is my name from the past. Your oath came with a proviso, but I too gladly accept your condition. Come; our camp is near, and we will introduce you to others. Many of them you have already met, but it is time to put aside prejudice and fear. We have no shortage of work ahead of us, and our burden became a little lighter today, and that calls for celebration. The night is dark, but the dawn is coming.”

I like the name. Nice to meet you, Hive. Be a good boy.

I will. He promised to the voice in his head, wondering if he went mad.

Also, Un is wrong. You aren’t alone, Hive. But he doesn’t look like a bad person. Let’s save lives.

Let’s, my other self. The insects forming his mouth spread in a grin. How should I call you, voice in my head?

Hive met the rest of the Oathtakers, a small army assembled in the wastelands, traversing the unsteady terrain on mighty engines. Un didn’t lie; Hive recognized some faces. He met people from the city, and the fire-wielder from the settlement apologized for the mistake and thanked for the help. Not all whom he met were here, but hundreds had joined the new nation. And other people were present! Strange humans called trolls were people who had trouble expressing their emotions, but Un assured Hive that they were just as human as anyone else.

The ragtag group of survivors grew day by day, and a sunrise came when Un called for a place to stay. They would stay at this very ruined shore; the poisonous waters would protect one approach to their new city, the first city built by the Oathtakers. Lord Steward threw a living bridge made of bone and muscle toward the spaceship, and worker teams entered it. The crew had long been dead, aside from a single passenger in a cryo capsule. Leaving the child asleep for a while, the workers restarted some systems, gaining access to the manufacturing compartment and data banks. Through this knowledge, they rediscovered how to create communication devices anew and stored many secrets of the Old World until they could use them. Portable greenhouses, materials to construct workshops, and shuttles that could serve as housing—the spaceship was a treasure trove of aid to survive the tribulations.

Hive couldn’t believe it. He expected to be betrayed; he expected everything to go awry. And yes, many faces felt fear at his sudden coming. But by communicating and speaking, he had earned their trust and then their cooperation. It wasn’t a delirious dream; he had truly found a home. And remembering Mama’s and Papa’s desires for him, Hive set out to make friends, paying no thought to how rude some had treated him once. Let the past grievances die; he wanted his new family to live and thrive!

The surviving scientists and engineers unearthed ancient vaults with the help of Dominator. The noble Lightbringer organized a first fighting force comprising the Blessed Ones, and with Hive’s help, kept the lands safe. Hive learned from Lord Steward how he could assist the country in a variety of ways; his insectoid bodies made excellent scouts, and the silk made by some of his bodies aided in everyday life. On his journeys around his new home, Hive has found a new mutant tribe, known as the Insectoid Commune, and convinced them to join on his own.

Years passed, and the nation expanded and even started changing the terrain, bringing back precious and gentle greenery outside the greenhouses. Hive was happy. He lived again! Not just for himself, but for his new family! All was well. Until the Reclamation Army came. And the first of many wars started. The Dynast’s champion, Outsider, met Lightbringer in combat. On that day, Hive lost many friends.