"Mum, Mum—look! It's Leviathan!"
A little boy with dark-blue hair tugged excitedly on his mother's sleeve, his wide eyes sparkling as a large hologram flickered to life above the city. Towering across the skyline was the image of a man in a dark, plated outfit—almost an armor—that exuded silent oppression. His face was blurred, only the outline visible, but even from afar his expression seemed cold… calm… immovable.
"John," his mother said gently, brushing his hair with her fingers, "haven't I told you to stop calling them by their bestial names? They're not monsters anymore. They've become pillars of humanity."
"But Leviath—" he began.
"Focus on the voice," she said lightly.
A sharp mechanical tone rang through the air a heartbeat later.
> "CIVILIANS OF HIGH CLASS, PLEASE HOLD. PRIVATE TRANSPORT TRAIN INCOMING."
John snapped his attention to the empty road ahead. The wide platform stretched out in perfect symmetry, the dim blue lights embedded in the ground flickering in a steady rhythm.
"Mum," he whispered, barely containing himself, "will the railway tracks only come out when the train is passing?"
His mother chuckled softly. "No, dear. The tracks come out when the announcement plays. That way there are no accidents."
John blinked, then his face lit up as if a switch flipped in his mind.
"Oh! I remember! My teacher said the same thing. The track system uses sound recognition. When the voice sounds, the magnetic rails rise from the ground—"
His excitement drew a few glances from nearby passengers in the waiting zone. Some smiled at him, amused; others simply looked at him for a moment before returning to their holo-pads and quiet conversations.
His mother gently pulled him closer, wrapping her arm protectively around him. Her green eyes softened, but there was a shadow behind them—a weight she tried to hide.
"John," she whispered, "try not to be too loud. We don't want to attract the wrong people."
The boy's smile faded. He clutched her clothes, suddenly small again. "Sorry, Mum…"
"It's alright," she soothed, rubbing circles on his back. "Just remember—" her voice lowered, "not everyone in human skin is truly human."
John looked up at her with round, frightened eyes. "But… why do these evil people hurt us? Can't the Pillars of Humanity beat them? Levi—uhm… I mean, that pillar… he looks super strong in the battles. I've seen the videos."
His mother exhaled slowly. Not out of frustration—out of worry.
"They are strong," she said softly. "Stronger than anyone else. But they can't see into every heart. Aberrants hide among us. They wear human skin… mimic human voices… pretend to feel what we feel. But inside, they're empty. And when the void calls them, they turn into things far worse than beasts."
John swallowed hard.
"And," she continued, "there are others too. Humans who misuse the beast-gene inside them. They claim the rulers of humanity aren't fit to lead anymore…"
She gently lifted his chin so he would look her in the eye.
"John, promise me—no matter what happens, you will always stand with humanity."
His small hands tightened around hers. His voice trembled but held sincerity.
"Yes, Mum. I promise."
Her face relaxed, and she smiled. "Good. That's enough heavy talk for now. Come on—watch closely."
A low rumble vibrated beneath their feet.
The ground split open in a clean, perfect line. Magnetic rails shot upward and snapped together with a metallic hum, forming a seamless track in seconds.
Another mechanical announcement followed:
> "PRIVATE TRANSPORT HAS ARRIVED. ONLY CITIZENS OF HIGHER CLASS MAY BOARD."
A cold gust swept across the platform.
The lights brightened.
The air stirred.
And the child took a small step forward—
just as a shadow fell across the tracks.