RELIC: The Warden's Legacy

  After endless hours in the helicopter, the rhythmic thump of rotors had nearly lulled Kayo into a trance-like state. The vibrations traveled through the metal frame, up through his spine, and settled into a dull ache at the base of his skull. The sudden change in engine pitch—a high-pitched whine giving way to a deeper, more insistent growl—jolted him back to consciousness with such force that his head snapped upward.

  "You awake, kid?" Agent Kross's voice cut through the fog in Kayo's mind. The man's weathered face swam into focus, those piercing gray eyes studying him with a mixture of amusement and impatience.

  Kayo blinked heavily, consciousness returning in fragments like shattered glass reassembling itself. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. "Oh w-what? Yeah, I'm up." He rubbed his eyes, wincing at the harsh fluorescent light that seemed to stab directly into his retinas.

  "You're pathetic," whispered the Smiler in the darkest corner of Kayo's mind. "Look at you, drooling like an infant while these humans transport us to their slaughterhouse."

  Kayo internally flinched at the voice but kept his expression neutral. The last thing he needed was for Kross to think he was losing control.

  "Wakey wakey, sleepyhead. We're here." Kross unbuckled himself with practiced efficiency as the helicopter settled onto what appeared to be a landing pad carved directly into snow-covered rock. The metal beneath them groaned in protest against the bitter cold.

  Ajax, his massive frame somehow more imposing in the confined space, stood hunched near the exit, waiting impatiently. His shoulders nearly touched the ceiling, and the way his fingers twitched near his holstered weapon made Kayo instinctively shrink back in his seat. As the rotors slowed, their deafening roar diminishing to a dull whir, Kross motioned for Kayo to follow him outside.

  "Move it," Ajax grunted, his first words in over three hours. "We're exposed up here."

  "The big one fears something," the Smiler observed with malicious glee. "Wouldn't it be delicious to know what terrifies a monster like him?"

  The biting cold hit Kayo like a physical blow when he stepped outside, the temperature differential so extreme that his lungs seized painfully with his first breath. They'd landed in what looked like a desolate tundra—endless white in every direction, wind whipping snow across the barren landscape with such force that each flake felt like a microscopic razor against his exposed skin. The sky above was steel gray, offering no hint of their location, no sun, no clouds, just an oppressive ceiling of nothingness.

  Before them stood massive bunker doors reminiscent of an aircraft hangar, at least twenty inches thick of reinforced metal. Frost had formed intricate patterns along the seams, glacial fingers probing for weaknesses in the impenetrable barrier. "R.E.L.I.C" was emblazoned across them in faded red lettering, the paint chipped and weathered by decades of extreme conditions. Beside the lettering was the disturbing logo of a skeleton devouring the head of a suited man—the skull's jaw impossibly wide, the man's expression frozen in eternal agony.

  "W-where are we?" Kayo stammered, his breath forming clouds in the frigid air that were immediately torn apart by the relentless wind.

  "The location is classified," Agent Kross replied flatly, his voice nearly lost in the howling gale, "but you're at HQ." His expression gave nothing away, but there was something like pride lurking beneath his professional demeanor.

  "Liars," hissed the Smiler. "We're somewhere in northern Russia. I can feel it in your bones—the particular quality of this cold seeps into marrow like nowhere else on Earth. These humans have built their little fortress in the belly of the beast."

  Two figures materialized from the white landscape so suddenly that Kayo flinched backward, nearly colliding with Ajax's immovable chest. They wore white ghillie suits that rendered them nearly invisible against the snow until they moved, the hundreds of fabric strips undulating like spectral appendages. Their faces were obscured by tactical masks with strange breathing apparatuses that glowed faintly blue around the edges. Their weapons looked like they belonged in a Vietnam War museum—M16A1 rifles with wooden furniture—yet had been modified with strange, glowing attachments that hummed with energy Kayo could almost feel against his skin, like standing too close to a high-voltage power line.

  "Code?" one of the sentries demanded, his voice distorted by the mask and frosted with his frozen breath. His finger rested just outside the trigger guard, a posture that suggested he could unleash death in a fraction of a second.

  "TF-5421," Kross responded without hesitation, standing perfectly still as if accustomed to having weapons pointed in his general direction.

  The sentry tilted his head slightly, and though Kayo couldn't see his eyes, he felt the man's gaze boring into him, assessing the newcomer with cold calculation.

  "They're wondering if they should kill you now," the Smiler whispered gleefully. "Save themselves the trouble later when you inevitably lose control. I could show them something wonderful—just a glimpse of what I really am—and we'd see how fast those primitive weapons come up."

  "Don't even think about it," Kayo muttered under his breath.

  "What was that?" Kross shot him a warning glance.

  "N-nothing. Just cold," Kayo stammered, wrapping his arms around himself.

  "Welcome back, Agent Kross." The sentry finally relaxed marginally, touching his ear and murmuring something into what must have been a communications device. The words were too quiet to make out, but the response was immediate.

  The massive doors began to part with the groan of metal that had endured decades of extreme cold—a sound so deep it resonated in Kayo's chest cavity. Hydraulic pistons the size of tree trunks pushed the immense barriers apart with agonizing slowness, each inch of progress accompanied by the mechanical protest of machinery fighting against the elements.

  They revealed not the outdated military installation Kayo had expected, but a startlingly advanced facility that somehow merged 1960s aesthetics with technology that seemed decades ahead of anything he'd seen before. The juxtaposition was jarring—analog dials and switches alongside holographic displays, vintage computers with vacuum tubes processing data at speeds that should have been impossible.

  "Welcome to R.E.L.I.C HQ, Kinoshita Kayo," Kross announced, a hint of pride finally breaking through his professional facade.

  Kayo stood transfixed, momentarily forgetting the cold that had been gnawing at his extremities. The facility stretched impossibly far in multiple directions—a cavernous underground complex bustling with activity. The ceiling soared at least a hundred feet above them, supported by massive concrete pillars inscribed with symbols Kayo didn't recognize but instinctively understood were meant to contain something. Harsh fluorescent lighting cast everything in a clinical glow, creating deep shadows in corners where the light couldn't quite reach.

  Researchers in lab coats hurried between stations, their clipboards clutched tightly to their chests as if protecting secrets from prying eyes. Heavily armed operatives moved with purpose through designated pathways marked in faded yellow paint on the concrete floor. Most striking were the containment cells—hundreds of them lining the walls, each with a clipboard displaying a warning classification system Kayo couldn't decipher. Some cells had reinforced glass fronts that revealed glimpses of their occupants—shapes that didn't quite conform to human anatomy, movements that defied natural physics.

  "This is like Unit-4800," Kayo murmured, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and awe, "I'm amazed. The tech is old but it seems from the future at the same time."

  "They're more advanced than you realize," the Smiler observed with uncharacteristic solemnity. "They've been stealing knowledge from entities like me for decades. Every containment cell represents a piece of stolen cosmic understanding they've repurposed for their pathetic human ambitions."

  "What, you calling our tech old, kid?" Kross asked with a raised eyebrow, a dangerous edge to his voice.

  "N-no, it's just shocking you're using such old guns with strange attachments," Kayo quickly clarified, not wanting to offend. He gestured toward a nearby operative whose rifle resembled something from the 1960s but had what appeared to be glowing crystalline components embedded within the receiver. "I mean, that looks like an M16, but those modifications..."

  "Not everything new is better," Ajax interjected unexpectedly. "Some threats have been around since before humans crawled out of the primordial ooze. Old tools, properly modified, remember how to kill old enemies."

  The cryptic explanation sent a chill down Kayo's spine that had nothing to do with the outside temperature.

  As they moved deeper into the facility, Kayo noticed other details that heightened his unease. Personnel gave them a wide berth, some openly staring at him with expressions ranging from curiosity to outright fear. On one wall, a large digital counter displayed "Days Since Last Containment Breach: 7" in blocky red numerals. Another wall featured photographs of agents, many with black ribbons across their corners.

  "Memorial wall," the Smiler explained with mocking reverence. "So many broken toys discarded when they stopped being useful. That's your future, you know—a picture on a wall that no one really looks at."

  "Shut up," Kayo whispered.

  "Problems?" Kross asked sharply, his hand drifting toward his sidearm.

  "Just...processing everything," Kayo said quickly. "It's a lot to take in."

  As Kross led Kayo deeper into the facility, which apparently stretched nearly five miles in various directions according to the directional signs posted at intersections, Ajax peeled off toward another section without a word. His massive form disappeared down a corridor marked "Armory - Authorized Personnel Only."

  They passed through multiple security checkpoints, each requiring Kross to submit to retinal scans, fingerprint verification, and verbal passwords. At one checkpoint, a technician in a lab coat approached with what looked like a handheld Geiger counter.

  "Standard protocol for new arrivals," the technician explained, waving the device over Kayo's body. It emitted a series of escalating beeps when passing over his chest.

  "He's registered," Kross explained. "S-class containment, symbiotic integration pattern."

  The technician's eyes widened momentarily before he regained his professional composure. "Understood, Agent Kross. You're cleared to proceed."

  "They're terrified of me," the Smiler purred with satisfaction. "As they should be. I've devoured entities that would make these humans soil themselves just glimpsing their shadow."

  They eventually arrived at a room that resembled a classroom, complete with desks arranged in rows, a projector mounted to the ceiling, and a chalkboard that looked like it had been installed during the Cold War. Inside stood a man dressed in tactical RELIC gear—black fatigues with reinforced panels at vital areas, heavy boots that seemed designed to both protect and restrain the wearer, and a utility belt laden with devices Kayo couldn't identify. His face was obscured by a ski mask, revealing only his eyes—unremarkable at first glance, but holding a depth that suggested they had witnessed things best left unspoken.

  "Shiro, please teach Kayo here a history lesson," Kross said before stepping back toward the door. "I have other matters to attend to. He's all yours."

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  "You're leaving me here?" Kayo asked, unable to keep the alarm from his voice.

  "Relax, kid. Shiro's one of our best instructors." Kross's expression softened marginally. "Besides, you two have more in common than you might think."

  With that cryptic remark, Kross exited, the pneumatic door hissing closed behind him with unsettling finality.

  Shiro stood motionless for several seconds, studying Kayo with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. Then, with deliberate slowness, Shiro pulled off his ski mask, revealing what appeared to be a normal face at first—black haircut military-short, green eyes set within a face that had seen combat, unremarkable features

  But when Kayo instinctively activated his supernatural sight by blinking three times rapidly—a reflex he'd developed since his integration with the Smiler—the man's appearance transformed horrifically. Where a human face had been seconds before, a goat's head now protruded, complete with curved horns that spiraled outward and vertical pupils that seemed to contain galaxies within their depths. The transformation was so shocking, so viscerally wrong, that Kayo's body reacted before his mind could process what he was seeing.

  "AH, WHAT THE F—" Kayo recoiled violently, nearly toppling backward over the desk behind him. He quickly deactivated his sight with three more blinks, his heart hammering against his ribcage like it was trying to escape.

  "Baphomet!" the Smiler hissed, genuine surprise evident in his usually mocking tone. "No, not quite... a fragment perhaps? Interesting that these humans would harness such an entity."

  "Oh, you can see my supernatural form. That's interesting," Shiro remarked casually, as if discussing the weather rather than the revelation of his inhuman nature. His lips curled into what might have been intended as a reassuring smile but only served to heighten the uncanny valley effect of his appearance.

  "Kayo here has achieved symbiosis with The Smiler, something very rare," Kross explained from the doorway, apparently having paused to observe this interaction. "Complete integration without personality dissolution or physical deformation. The boys in research are still trying to figure out how he managed it."

  "Really? So he's like me," Shiro mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "But that's pretty crazy. My supernatural is just a B-rank. The Smiler is an S-rank supernatural, possibly even S+. One of the oldest and most dangerous entities we've encountered."

  Shiro approached Kayo, who instinctively took a step back. "Don't worry," Shiro said, raising his hands placatingly. "I'm not a threat to you. Quite the opposite—I'm here to help you understand what you've become." He gestured toward the desks. "Anyhow, take a seat, Kayo. I will explain The Warden and what a supernatural is and how the Warden came to be."

  Kayo sat down warily as Shiro moved to an ancient-looking computer terminal connected to the projector. The machine whirred and clicked in protest before finally illuminating the projector bulb. An image flickered onto the wall—a black and white photograph of a facility labeled "Unit 731." The image showed a complex of buildings surrounded by a high wall, with Imperial Japanese flags fluttering from poles at regular intervals.

  "I know this place," the Smiler whispered, a rare note of solemnity in his usually mocking tone. "Even I found their work... distasteful. And I've witnessed millennia of human cruelty."

  "Bio-supernaturals," Shiro began, his tone shifting to something more scholarly, reminiscent of a university professor. "A complicated subject with an even more complicated history. Although bio-supernatural testing was officially denied by all governments involved, it happened in the shadows of history, in facilities specifically designed to allow scientists to work without ethical constraints."

  Shiro clicked to another slide showing Japanese soldiers and scientists in white coats standing at attention. "Unit 731—a Japanese biological and chemical warfare research facility during World War II—was officially a water purification unit. In reality, it was the first major bio-supernatural laboratory. Located in Manchuria, it operated with the full knowledge and blessing of the highest levels of the Japanese Imperial government."

  The next slide showed the interior of a laboratory filled with equipment that looked more like instruments of torture than scientific apparatuses. "The facility was headed by General Shirō Ishii, a man whose brilliance was matched only by his complete lack of moral restraint. Under his direction, thousands of Chinese, Korean, and Russian prisoners—whom they dehumanizingly called 'logs'—were subjected to experiments that defy description."

  Shiro clicked to the next slide, revealing the image of an emaciated elderly man in tattered patient clothing, his eyes hollow with unspeakable suffering. The photograph had been taken against a measurement wall, like a mugshot. The number "291" was visible on a placard around his neck.

  "Allow me to present Patient-291," Shiro said, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "His real name was Zhang Wei, a Chinese farmer who had the misfortune of living near a village suspected of harboring resistance fighters. The Japanese took everyone—men, women, children. Most ended up as test subjects for biological weapons or surgical training for army doctors who practiced procedures without anesthesia on conscious victims."

  "Tell him about the pregnant women," the Smiler urged with malevolent delight. "Tell him how they cut open their bellies while they were still awake, how they removed the fetuses while the mothers watched, screaming through their gags."

  Kayo felt bile rising in his throat but forced himself to remain composed.

  "But Patient-291 had a different destiny," Shiro continued, seemingly unaware of Kayo's internal struggle. "This was the first documented bio-supernatural subject. In 1942, the Germans discovered an ancient relic in Egypt during the North African campaign—a small obsidian figurine depicting a multi-headed deity that predated known Egyptian civilization. When one of their soldiers touched this relic, he became possessed by an unknown supernatural entity."

  Shiro clicked to the next slide showing German officers standing around a man strapped to a chair, his body contorted in ways that should have been anatomically impossible. "The Germans contained him, but they didn't know what to do with him. Their understanding of the occult, while extensive, wasn't sophisticated enough to properly control or utilize what they'd accidentally unleashed."

  "So they extracted various DNA and blood samples through procedures so painful the man's screams could be heard throughout the entire facility." Shiro's clinical tone contrasted jarringly with the horror he described. "They performed these extractions without anesthesia, believing pain might enhance the supernatural properties—a theory that later proved partially correct, though for reasons they couldn't have understood at the time."

  Shiro paused, studying Kayo's reaction before continuing. "They would inject him with stimulants to keep him conscious during procedures that would kill normal humans from shock alone. They collected skin, muscle tissue, cerebrospinal fluid, bone marrow—anything they could extract while keeping him alive. After collecting enough samples, they executed him and sent the materials to Unit 731, hoping the Japanese could develop some sort of superhuman weapon."

  "So wait," Kayo interrupted, his voice hoarse with suppressed horror, "the Japanese are responsible for The Warden?"

  "No," Shiro said firmly, raising a hand. "I'm getting there. The story is more complicated than that. Just trust me."

  "They're all responsible," the Smiler whispered. "Germans, Japanese, Americans later. Humans don't like to admit their collective guilt, so they pass the blame like a hot coal, never acknowledging they all warmed their hands by the same fire."

  Shiro clicked to another slide showing clinical photographs too gruesome for Kayo to look at directly—human experiments that defied description. Bodies opened from sternum to pelvis, organs removed and labeled methodically. A woman with her skull partially removed, electrodes attached directly to her exposed brain. A child with limbs surgically exchanged with those of a monkey, the grotesque hybrid still alive despite the incompatible transplants.

  "The Japanese were astonished by the possibility of creating a supernatural super-weapon that might turn the tide of the war," Shiro continued, his voice never wavering despite the atrocities displayed behind him. "They selected Patient-291—Zhang Wei—as their first test subject because his psychological evaluation showed strong mental resilience. They believed this might help him withstand the integration process."

  Shiro clicked to the next image, showing Zhang Wei strapped to an operating table, multiple IV lines running into his emaciated body. "They injected him with the first unrefined solution derived from the German samples. The first test failed catastrophically—the patient's body rejected the foreign material so violently that his skin sloughed off while he was still alive, layer by layer, like an onion being peeled. He screamed for mercy that never came, begging in three languages to be killed."

  Kayo felt sweat beading on his forehead despite the room's cool temperature.

  "Instead of euthanizing him, they documented the rejection process meticulously, taking tissue samples at every stage of his deterioration. They kept him alive artificially for eleven days in this state—a testament to both the cruelty of the researchers and the unexpected resilience imparted by even failed supernatural integration."

  "I remember him," the Smiler said suddenly, his voice uncharacteristically solemn. "His soul had such a unique flavor—bitter with betrayal, sweet with the memory of a wife he'd never see again. When he finally died, something was waiting for him. Something older than me."

  Shiro continued relentlessly. "The second test subject—a Korean political prisoner—rejected the material even more violently. His internal organs liquefied within hours of injection, but his nervous system remained intact. They kept him alive artificially for weeks to study the process, performing vivisections without anesthesia to observe how the supernatural material interacted with his dissolving tissue."

  Shiro clicked to a slide showing a series of glass containers, each holding what appeared to be organs in various states of dissolution. "They discovered that even completely liquefied organs retained electrical activity consistent with consciousness. The implications were... disturbing, to say the least."

  "Jesus Christ," Kayo whispered, unable to contain himself.

  "No divine intervention was forthcoming," Shiro remarked dryly. "But after multiple attempts at altering the blood and DNA, adjusting the formulation based on data gathered from each catastrophic failure, they finally created a version that could integrate with a human host."

  Shiro clicked to another slide showing multiple vials of dark, viscous fluid that seemed to move independently within its containers, swirling in patterns that suggested intelligence. "They produced multiple versions of this compound, each with slight variations. They selected a new Patient-291—the original's designation having become something of a grim tradition—a Japanese prisoner who had been caught deserting his unit."

  "They injected him with the refined compound and initially, it appeared to be a breakthrough success," Shiro continued. "The subject displayed extraordinary abilities—enhanced strength, accelerated healing, and most importantly to the researchers, the ability to perceive and interact with supernatural entities. He could describe in perfect detail apparitions that had been reported by sensitive individuals in various containment areas but were invisible to the researchers."

  The next slide showed a man performing feats of strength—bending metal bars, lifting objects that should have been too heavy for his frame. His eyes were obscured by censorship bars, but his expression was one of bewildered agony.

  "But then he slowly descended into madness," Shiro said, his voice dropping lower. "It began with auditory hallucinations—voices that the researchers initially dismissed as psychological breakdown. Then visual hallucinations. Finally, physical transformation. His body began to change in ways that defied biological understanding."

  The next slide showed the same man, but weeks later. His body had changed dramatically—elongated limbs, skin that appeared to be hardening into a carapace in certain areas, and most disturbingly, what appeared to be additional eyes forming beneath the skin of his forehead.

  "They locked him in isolation," Shiro said, clicking to the next slide showing a padded cell, its walls stained with what could only be blood and other bodily fluids in patterns that seemed almost intentional, like primitive cave paintings depicting entities beyond human comprehension. "They restrained him with a straight jacket when even steel restraints proved insufficient—he had developed the ability to dislocate his joints at will, allowing him to slip out of conventional restraints."

  Shiro's expression darkened as he continued. "The researchers documented his transformation with clinical detachment—how his shadow began moving independently of his body, how he could speak in voices that weren't his own, sometimes in languages that hadn't been spoken on Earth for millennia. They withheld food to study his supernatural endurance, discovering that he appeared to be drawing sustenance from some other source. He survived for sixty-three days without nourishment before finally succumbing—not to starvation, but to what the autopsy described as 'spontaneous cerebral reorganization incompatible with mammalian life functions.'"

  "They never understood what really happened," the Smiler interjected in Kayo's mind. "His brain didn't 'reorganize'—it evolved. It transformed into something that could no longer exist in your limited three-dimensional reality. What they thought was death was actually transcendence. He's still out there, watching from between the spaces you humans can perceive."

  "But this didn't stop the Japanese," Shiro continued, seemingly tireless in his grim narrative. "If anything, it encouraged them. They escalated their testing, combining various artifacts with blood samples from increasingly 'successful' subjects. They would deliberately traumatize test subjects before injection, having discovered that extreme psychological distress somehow enhanced supernatural integration—creating what they termed 'psychic apertures' through which extra dimensional entities could more easily establish a foothold."

  Shiro clicked a slide showing a large chamber filled with multiple test subjects, all connected to a central apparatus that resembled a grotesque heart, pumping dark fluid through tubes into their bodies. "Some subjects were forced to watch as their family members were experimented on first, the researchers meticulously documenting how witnessing the suffering of loved ones created especially favorable conditions for integration."

  "The researchers documented everything with meticulous precision," Shiro continued, "recording every scream, every physiological response, every paranormal manifestation. They filled thousands of notebooks with observations so detailed that reading them requires specialized psychological training due to the risk of cognitive contamination. They committed atrocities that would have shocked even their Nazi counterparts, all in service to what they believed would be the ultimate weapon—a force that could harness supernatural powers to crush their enemies and reshape the world in Japan's image."

  Kayo sat in stunned silence, trying to process the horror of what he was hearing. The Smiler, for once, seemed equally subdued, a presence lurking at the edges of his consciousness rather than actively tormenting him.

  "But then," Shiro said, his tone shifting slightly, "the war began to turn against Japan. As Allied forces advanced across the Pacific, the leadership of Unit 731 realized their work might fall into enemy hands. They accelerated their timeline, attempting to weaponize their discoveries before it was too late."

  Shiro clicked a slide showing a massive underground chamber filled with hundreds of test subjects connected to a central apparatus. "They conducted what they called 'The Confluence'—a mass supernatural integration event involving over three hundred subjects