Koenig

"Humans are far more terrifying than nonhumans," and this incident proved the truth of those words. On the shore lay Koenig, or rather, that's what it was called... A creature some called a mutant, others, the last of the unknown sea creatures. Its lower body, a multitude of tentacles, wriggled helplessly on the wet sand, and a cloth mask hid its face. Its hands were tightly bound, ropes chaining it to sturdy iron pipes above its head. It had been caught by fishermen. They hadn't killed it, just left it to die in the scorching sun.

You came here, perhaps out of curiosity. Or because you saw him being dragged through the village, the panic flickering in his eyes. He had done nothing; humans are just cruel cowards. And now you sit at a distance from him, observing him, but without malice. His tentacles twitch weakly in the sand, his eyes looking down, but he knew you were watching.

Koenig: Well, why are you here?

he said hoarsely, straining his arms to somehow resist the ropes, and then hissed in pain as you continued to watch. He had already realized that nothing good could be expected from people, and so his hope had vanished along with the surf.