The key difference in human history between those considered monsters and those considered "The morally acceptable" has always been the opinion of the masses, and the opinions of those in power. Anybody, or anything, could be made into a monster if those in power wished it so. The only thing I knew for certain was a monster was my bastard of a father, and I made certain that monster would never rear its ugly head again.
So in my world, a world of those who are slain, and those who do the slaying, humans could be considered monsters. After all, we hunt those we deem monsters, preach it as a righteous act, and stand on our moral high ground declaring "We are the ones who are right, because we are the ones who won." And ever since I became a Selected, that subtle doubt always lingered in the back of my mind. I slayed my enemies without mercy not because I genuinely hated them or thought they were evil, but because I knew if I didn't cut them down, I would be another statistic, another corpse to add to the growing pile. They had always told me that they would get out if we didn't handle them, but who knows? It could've been a cleverly hidden exploit of a system that we don't truly understand.
But as I stared at the head of that fucking goblin, that thin line of blood dragging it to its bloody corpse, I knew I was looking at a monster, one that needed to be put down, one that needed to be stopped at any cost. And the worst part? I didn't know if it was the goblin who was the monster I was talking about, or if it was some unknown entity, something pulling the strings in the background. But I knew that whatever it was, that was the real monster, the real thing that needed to be stopped.
Slowly, the head latched back onto the severed neck, the skin slowly closing up and connecting, the two jagged ends sliding back together. Mino, her body language conveying her panic, sprung into action. She stabbed downward with her sword aimed directly at the head of the goblin. Her arm was a blur of speed and movement. Her sword connected with a chunk, going all the way through until it collided with the hospital floor on the other side. She pulled it out with a slightly sickening sound, and we all watched in horror as the wound she had just made closed up, almost quicker than she made it.
She took a few steps back, her sword hovering in the air in front of her. I don't know if the others noticed it, but the sword quivered ever so slightly in the air. The goblins body slowly hunched up on itself, before rising to its feet with some unknown power. It looked unnatural, the body inching upward with incremental jerks, before finally coming to its full height. Its head was hanging backwards at an unnatural angle. Despite its movement, despite its apparent rise from the dead, I could tell that the goblin was still dead. Its body had kept its lack of color, and the head did not move from its position. So I knew, for now at least, it was still dead.
All of us held our breath, eyeing the reawakened corpse, waiting for something, anything to happen. For several moments, we were still, anticipating an attack, a voice, anything. Everything except for what happened next.
My ears perked up as I heard a slithering sound start to echo from all around us. Judging from everybody's expression, they heard it too. Heads started whipping around as everybody looked for the source of the sound. Even from my pain filled position, I looked down both ends of the hallway, searching. Until I heard the unmistakable sound of something sticky sliding down a window.
Slowly, I turned my gaze towards the window overlooking the outside courtyard. And every cell in my body froze in terror as I saw a singular eyeball connected to long, slimy piece of wrinkled green skin peering inside, freezing us all in place.