The truck barreled across the desert, its engine growling against the vast emptiness. Kai's hands gripped the steering wheel, his eyes scanning the horizon. The Divide was a scar on the land, a place where nature and humanity had collided in a mutual act of destruction. The GPS flickered on the dashboard, its screen dim against the sunlight that beat down relentlessly.
Each jolt of the truck was a reminder of the unforgiving terrain—cracked earth, scattered debris, and occasional patches of glass where the sand had melted under extreme heat. The suit's filters worked overtime, keeping the faint scent of ash and chemicals at bay.
Kai glanced at the GPS. Five minutes out. His eyes shifted to the horizon where the Divide loomed, the jagged cliffs framing a narrow, ominous pass. He thought of Caesar's words. A superweapon buried in a place that destroyed everything it touched. If it even existed, what kind of person would willingly walk into hell to retrieve it?
The truck hit a rough patch, jolting him out of his thoughts. He tightened his grip, pushing the vehicle forward as the Divide grew larger. He'd almost reached the pass when—
BOOM.
The world flipped. A deafening explosion tore through the air as a land mine erupted beneath the truck. Shrapnel and fire engulfed the vehicle, hurling it sideways. The force threw Kai against the door, the reinforced suit absorbing most of the impact as the truck skidded and rolled.
When the chaos settled, Kai lay in a daze, his ears ringing. Smoke filled the air, mingling with the acrid scent of burning oil. The truck was a mangled wreck, its metal frame twisted and blackened.
Kai coughed, his mask's filters straining against the smoke. With deliberate movements, he unbuckled himself and kicked the door open. The desert heat rushed in, carrying with it the silence of a near-death experience.
He stepped out, assessing the damage. The truck was done for—its tires shredded, its engine a charred mess. Around him, the desert stretched on, silent and indifferent.
Kai knelt to examine the ground. The mine had been well-hidden, its detonation precise. A warning, or just bad luck? He straightened, brushing dust from his suit. The Divide loomed ahead, the path now inaccessible by vehicle.
'So, on foot it is,' he thought grimly.
Kai grabbed all of his items and took off towards where the GPS directed him as he got closer his Geiger counter went up too. Eventually he stumbled into a canyon with car wreckage, wooden planks scattered as harsh desert winds blew above him. As Kai trudged along the narrow overpass, his boots scraping against the worn metal, the dilapidated scaffolding and twisted pipes that littered the sides of the canyon caught his attention. His eyes flicked over them briefly, noting the decay but not giving them much thought. It was just another reminder of the harshness of the Divide.
He'd seen things like this before in movies cities forgotten by time, infrastructure abandoned and left to rot. The fallen broadcast tower sprawled infront of him, its once-proud structure now a crumpled heap of rusted metal. A relic of a past long gone, just like everything else here.
"Waste," he muttered to himself, his voice muffled through the mask. It was a thought more out of habit than emotion. In a place like this, everything was wasted: human lives, technology, even the land itself. The tower had once been a beacon, a voice, something important, but now it was just a heap of metal and dust, consumed by the unforgiving landscape.
He paused for a moment, eyes narrowing as he considered the scene before him. Was there any point in trying to figure out the story of the tower? Its fall seemed inevitable, just like everything else in the Divide. People had tried to use it. They'd relied on it. And it had failed them. There was no need to linger on it.
There was a bunker just beyond the fallen tower.
Kai slowed his pace as he approached the bunker. The sign, weathered by years of neglect, stood out against the desolate landscape. "MAVIRIAN SILO BUNKER, AUTHORIZED MILITARY PERSONNEL ONLY." The words were cold, sterile. A reminder that some places still had restrictions—rules.
But what caught his attention was the symbol. It was a curious mix of familiarity and something slightly off. The emblem seemed to echo the design of his own armor, but less refined, less regal. It was a militaristic design, the sort that might have been slapped together in a rush. The mask was there, too, a more basic version of the one Kai wore, though it lacked the function his gas mask provided. It looked almost ceremonial, an odd twist in this forsaken place.
A tightness pulled at his chest, but only for a second. A flicker of unease before it was pushed away. This place, this mission—it wasn't about danger anymore. It was about purpose.
Kai paused, scanning the area around the bunker for any movement or signs of life. The Divide was a graveyard, and the land didn't give up its secrets easily. Whoever—or whatever—had left this mark, this strange symbol, wasn't someone to be taken lightly.
"A warning sign and some pretentious symbol. They want to make it look like something important" Kai muttered under his breath, taking a step toward the entrance.
Kai opened the door reveling an interior that is tilting to the right kai almost fell walking in wires slung above him sparking as light in the hall kept flickering. There was graffiti on the wall saying "YOU CAN GO HOME MORITFEX."
"Moritfex? Who is Mortifex?"
Kai's fingers hovered over the 'Sadr,' the handheld communication device, his mind still processing the sudden shift in status. The screen flickered for a moment before a crackling voice filled the static.
"Kai Hisoka."
"Have you made it, Kai?"
It was Caesar. The voice was distorted, fighting through the thick static, but there was an unmistakable edge of urgency in it.
"Yes, I have. But... I think there's someone—or something—of interest."
"Who may that be?"
Kai paused for a moment, not sure if he should proceed with this. The name had been buried in the back of his mind, a shadow in the corner of a room that had suddenly been lit.
"Mortifex."
Silence. The kind that hung between them like a thick fog, suffocating the moment.
"Caesar?"
"How do you know what Mortifex is?"
Kai frowned, not knowing how to explain it.
"I don't."
Another silence, heavier this time.
"Where did you hear the name Mortifex?"
"I—who is it?" Kai's voice grew more curious, the name echoing in his mind, filling gaps he hadn't known existed.
Caesar sighed, a sound of resigned frustration, his voice breaking through the static again, clear but cold.
"You are Mortifex now."
Kai's eyes narrowed, a sense of unease crawling up his spine.
"What?"
Caesar's tone hardened, as if the truth had to be forced into the conversation.
"This was a title given to a single soldier. A soldier used for special combat scenarios. It's like naming an ace of the army."
Kai's mind raced. One moment he was a soldier, an unknown in the machine, and now…
"So, you gave a title like that to a mercenary on his first day?"
"It wasn't my plan," Caesar's voice was clipped, almost apologetic, but there was no mistaking the bitterness in it. "It was the Supreme Leader's decision. His idea, his order. It came at the cost of making me leader of a battalion. Now that I'm the commander, I don't have a reason to lie anymore. The truth is what it is."
Kai's thoughts were a whirlwind. From a faceless soldier to the highest rank in the Iranian military. The weight of it was crushing, but there was no time to dwell.
"So, this is his plan, then."
"Precisely," Caesar replied. "And I suggest you follow it."
Kai could almost hear the unspoken threat in those words. The weight of expectation pressing down on him.
"What does it mean to be Mortifex, then?" Kai asked, trying to piece together what this title could mean. What it meant for him.
Caesar's voice softened just a touch, though the bitterness remained.
"Mortifex isn't a man. Mortifex is a symbol. A ghost. A thing that exists only as an idea. People don't care who's behind it—they care about the outfit, the mask, the legend. You wear that title, and you become untouchable. You become the face of a nation's desperation. The first person to wear the title was our response to the Iraqi nuclear quirk. We developed a counter-nuclear quirk using stolen DNA—copied from the data they collected."
Kai's brow furrowed as the pieces of the past fell into place.
"On that day," Caesar continued, his voice growing more distant, like he was reliving a memory, "two nuclear blasts went off. We didn't just stop one—we stopped both. The world never knew the full extent. But it was enough to put Mortifex into the history books… if they ever wanted to write it."
"They don't say that in the history textbooks," Kai muttered, feeling the weight of the words as they landed between them.
Caesar's chuckle was dark, bitter.
"And we don't want them to."
Kai exhaled slowly, letting the gravity of it settle in. His role had changed—he wasn't just a soldier anymore. He was a symbol. A weapon. A tool to be used. Mortifex wasn't a man; it was an idea made flesh.
"So, I'm supposed to just wear this title and play the part?" Kai's voice was quiet, controlled, but underneath it all, the question simmered. "What happens if I don't?"
A pause, the silence lingering like a threat.
"Then," Caesar said, almost with a hint of amusement, "You'll just be another dead soldier. And they'll find someone else to wear the mask."
Kai's grip tightened around the 'Sadr,' the weight of the conversation not just in the title, but in what came with it. No turning back now.
"Understood."
"Good. I'll be in touch."
The line clicked off, the static cutting off abruptly, leaving Kai alone with his thoughts—and a title that had just made him something far more dangerous than he ever planned to be.
Kai stepped cautiously into the silo's next chamber. The air felt thick, almost musty, as he scanned the room. Desks were strewn about, some overturned, papers scattered across the floor like remnants of a forgotten war. Computers, old and covered in dust, flickered with the faintest hint of life. In the corner, there was a console—its design foreign, its purpose unclear—near an enclosed window.
A single red lever stuck out from the left side of the console. It seemed... out of place, like an invitation to pull it, yet Kai hesitated.
He could feel the weight of the silence press against him, thick and oppressive. Something about this place felt wrong, like an ancient machine still running long after its operators had disappeared.
With a steadying breath, Kai approached the console, his gloved fingers brushing lightly against the lever. He didn't pull it yet. Not yet. The room offered no answers, only questions, and he hated unanswered questions.
Moving on, he pushed through the door at the far side of the room. The next space was eerily similar, yet something was different this time. At the far-right corner, a single container stood. Unlike the random clutter of the previous room, this container was pristine—clean, efficient, and meticulously placed. Its metallic surface reflected the dim lights above, and beside it, a control console, sleek and functional, awaited interaction.
Kai moved toward it with purpose, his mind calculating, analyzing. He studied the console for a moment, then ran his fingers over the buttons, searching for any sign of purpose. Finding none, he turned to the wires—loose, exposed, and ready to be tampered with.
He didn't hesitate. Kai yanked the panel open and tore at the wiring, his hands moving like an extension of his own will. The circuit sparked briefly before he found the right connection, and the door to the container slid open with a hiss. Steam billowed out in a cloud, obscuring his view.
For a moment, everything was silent.
Then, as if on cue, the silence shattered. A small robot zipped out of the container, its metal frame gleaming. It hovered in the air, emitting a series of mechanical whirrs and clicks. Music suddenly blared from its speakers—an unexpected, garish pop tune.
"Fly far! Fly fast!" A child's voice, shrill and cheerful, blared out from the bot's tiny speakers, sending an odd chill down Kai's spine.
The music blared again, a distorted, repetitive loop of the same jarring phrase. "Fly far! Fly fast!"
Kai blinked, his eyes narrowing. The juxtaposition of the cheerful, childish voice against the sterile, military environment was… unsettling.
"Well, that's certainly not what I expected." Kai muttered under his breath, eyeing the robot as it bobbed in front of him, oblivious to his presence. His fingers hovered over the console, but he didn't touch it again. There was something off about the whole setup.
The robot zipped around him in erratic circles, still singing its jarring tune. "Fly far! Fly fast!"
"What are you?" Kai's voice was calm, but there was a faint edge to it, as if the situation had started to tip into the surreal.
The robot, hovering inches from his face, emitted a series of harsh static sounds. It spun in place, its mechanical whirring echoing off the cold, metal walls.
"Can you understand me?" Kai repeated, his voice growing just slightly more impatient.
More static, followed by beeping sounds that made the atmosphere feel even more oppressive.
Kai let out a soft breath, surveying the room. The technology around him was nothing short of advanced—far beyond anything he had expected to encounter here. The kinds of machines that should only exist in secret labs or deep government bunkers.
"This place has some pretty advanced facilities," he muttered to himself, his words trailing off as the strange drone continued to emit clunky noises, its small metallic form darting around erratically.
A voice suddenly broke through the static, a male voice, clearly distorted but nonetheless intelligible.
"Experiment log 375892/A. Drone surface universal interface override system. This is Dr. Barzani presiding. We've boosted signal gain and the overflow button system. That should ensure 100% connectivity and control. Sahin, whenever you're ready."
The drone emitted a series of beeps in response, as if acknowledging the command. A slight buzzing noise followed, then another voice—this time a different, younger tone—cut in.
"Yes! Success! Uh, reporting full success on 375892/A. Sahid was able to override the panel in under three seconds."
The robotic voice sputtered out some strange electronic noises in response, before it fell silent once more.
Kai stood still, processing the words. "Sahid, Dr. Barzani...," he repeated under his breath, wondering if they were connected to whatever larger operation this place was part of. He glanced at the robot, whose movements seemed almost more purposeful now, though still mechanical. "Who was that?" he asked, voice low, but there was no answer.
The drone bobbed in the air for a moment before continuing its erratic flight pattern, as though it hadn't heard him at all.
"Maybe it can't understand me," Kai muttered, feeling a flicker of uncertainty in the pit of his stomach. But the drone had to be connected to something—perhaps it could lead him to more answers. He followed the bot, moving cautiously, as it zipped into the next room. The room was dimly lit, but Kai could see the faint outline of more consoles, along with a hum of power returning to the area.
Then, as if responding to some unseen command, a surge of electricity sparked through the air, arcing briefly across the console before the entire room flickered to life. The overhead lights blinked on, casting long, harsh shadows along the walls. The once-dead machinery now buzzed with renewed life.
"What the… you might be very helpful…" Kai's voice was almost a whisper, more to himself than to the drone, as he realized what had just happened. This was no ordinary robot—it was playing a part in something much larger.
The red lever, which had previously been dormant, now started beeping. It wasn't just a sound—it was insistent, almost as though it were calling out to him. The drone hovered in front of it, its tiny body pulsing with energy as if urging him to act.
Kai hesitated for only a moment before reaching out. His fingers wrapped around the red lever, his mind calculating the consequences of each action. He yanked it down.
The sound of machinery shifting echoed in the room as the enclosed window slid open with a hiss. What Kai saw beyond it took his breath away. A sleek, dark silhouette stood revealed—a rocket ship of some kind, its body streamlined but with a pointed nose, designed not for space, but for the earth itself.
His heart skipped a beat as he processed the image.
"Is this the super weapon?" he murmured, his voice tinged with awe, yet his mind already running through the possibilities. The ship—if it was indeed a weapon—would be far more advanced than anything he'd ever encountered. And if there was one, how many more were there? How far did this project stretch?
Kai stepped closer to the window, his eyes tracing every detail of the machine. The design was unmistakable. This wasn't just some weapon; this was a product of years, maybe decades, of research, hidden away in a place few would ever know about.
"How many more?" His voice was low, full of calculation. This wasn't just an isolated incident. If this facility had one such weapon, there could be others—waiting, hidden, ready for deployment.
The task ahead of him was monumental. Kai knew that. He had to find them—if there were more—and determine what their true purpose was. The project that created them had to be vast, with implications that went far beyond what the world knew.
He turned his back on the machine, eyes scanning the rest of the room. The drone was still hovering nearby, waiting for the next move. But it wasn't just a mechanical assistant anymore. It was a guide, a key to unraveling a much larger mystery that would take him to places unknown.
Kai stepped through the door opposite the one he'd entered earlier, his footsteps echoing against the cold metal floor. The space beyond opened up into what could only be described as a blast room—a cavernous chamber filled with the remnants of a long-abandoned facility. The walls were thick, reinforced, and industrial in their design. This room, like everything else in the silo, was a relic—an enigma from a past Kai had yet to fully understand.
A staircase led up the far wall, twisting upwards to what appeared to be the surface. The stairs creaked underfoot, the sounds reverberating in the eerie silence as Kai climbed higher. With each step, more rooms became visible through the gaps in the stairwell, each more desolate than the last. The faint hum of the facility's power systems buzzed in the background, a constant reminder that, despite the abandonment, the place was still alive with electricity.
Finally, Kai reached the top. He stepped off the last stair and into a small observation room. What he saw stopped him cold.
A man—if you could even call him that—was pinned to the wall. His face was a grotesque mass of exposed muscle tissue, the skin gone as though it had been deliberately peeled away. His features were twisted in a silent scream, but no sound escaped his mutilated form. A long, rusted pole had been jammed through his stomach, sticking him into the concrete wall, the remains of his body left in a macabre display.
Kai's eyes narrowed. His first instinct was to search for answers, but there were none here. Just death. It was clear that whoever had done this wanted to send a message.
As he stood there, taking in the scene, a cold, detached voice whispered through his thoughts: This wasn't random. It wasn't an accident.
The buzzing of the drone behind him broke his concentration. He turned, and sure enough, it was still hovering there, its mechanical whirring and clicking filling the room with a sense of urgency. Kai sighed, his lips curling into a wry smile. "Persistent little thing, aren't you?" he muttered under his breath.
The drone zipped ahead, its flashing lights drawing his attention. It darted towards a door on the opposite side of the room, leading into a narrow hallway. Without hesitation, Kai followed, stepping through the threshold and into the corridor. The familiar low hum of the facility's systems washed over him again. The hallway looked almost identical to the one he'd just left—dimly lit, lined with metal doors, and ominously quiet.
As he moved down the hallway, his eyes caught something that stood out among the monotony—a door at the end, marked with something in red spray paint. The words were crude, hastily scrawled across the steel surface:
"You can still go home, Mortifex."
Kai stopped dead in his tracks, the words searing into his mind. The term Mortifex—his designation—was not something he had expected to find here, not like this. The way it was written, with such finality, sent a chill down his spine. Home? He didn't know what that meant anymore.
His fingers brushed against the cool metal of the door as he moved closer, his gaze fixed on the graffitied message. 'What were they trying to tell me?' he wondered.
Before he could think too much more on it, the buzz of the drone grew louder, a signal that it was still following him. A part of Kai's mind wondered just how much it knew—how much it had already seen. But for now, it was his only lead, and it wasn't going to leave him alone.
He pushed the door open. It creaked on its hinges as the cold air rushed into the hallway, thick with the scent of mildew and rust. The drone zipped past him, eager to explore whatever lay beyond.
Kai stepped through the door and was immediately hit with the vastness of the scene before him. The landscape was a wasteland, a city destroyed beyond recognition. Buildings, once towering symbols of power and pride, were now reduced to decaying husks, leaning precariously at angles, threatening to collapse at any moment. The wind whipped through the debris, kicking up dust that swirled in chaotic gusts, like a storm in a desert. Everything was covered in a thick layer of grime, as if the city itself had been abandoned for decades, left to wither in the face of time and neglect.
As Kai stood there, his eyes scanning the devastation, a low, rough voice crackled through the drone, now hovering beside him. It was a man's voice—gravelly, dark, the kind of tone you'd hear in the underbelly of a war movie, dripping with disdain and malice.
"There's your signal… faint, but there. Just like Iran," the man said, his voice rough as if each word had been scraped from the depths of years. "Voice without fire. Without strength. Sick."
Kai's gaze remained steady, his mind already processing the implications of the statement. The man continued, seemingly unfazed by the destruction around them.
"I've heard tales of your exploits these past forty-odd years, giving Iran strength. Giving hollowed men like Afshani, like Tavakkol, half the life Ayatollah had."
Kai's expression didn't shift. Tavakkol. The current Minister of Defense. Ayatollah. The former leader. Both figures were part of the tangled web of power and politics Kai had become entangled in. But to this voice, they were just names—symbols of a broken regime, victims of time's indifferent march.
"Now," the man's voice darkened, "Let's test that strength. That... conviction, Mortifex."
Kai's eyes flicked briefly to the drone. "You seem to have a lot of hate for Iran," Kai said evenly, his tone unshaken. "That hate isn't new for conquered nations."
The man's voice grew harder, almost amused itself, as if Kai's response had been predictable. "No... not new. And not new among all those in the shadow of the Sword," he replied, the bitterness palpable. "You know their flag—red, white, green, with two swords in the middle. A symbol of an old world. One that's long dead. It had a lion…"
Kai's gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He didn't interrupt, but he could feel the weight of the man's words.
The voice continued, more insistent now, as if it couldn't hold back its loathing. "Better off for it. They're split, like any two-headed animal trying to go in different directions. Ending up nowhere. In the desert, that'll only get sand between your fingers… or over your grave."
The wind howled louder outside, almost like it was responding to the man's words, carrying the weight of his anger. But Kai remained silent, his mind turning over what was said. 'A two-headed animal… split, directionless. That's one way to view Iran', Kai thought. But there was something else in the words—a deeper hatred for the divided state of the nation. It was more than just politics. It was personal.