MHA: Ubiytsa Bogov - Slayer of Gods

Aleksandr, despite his exhaustion and grief, knew he could not afford to waste any time. The weight of Gervasii and Yulia's deaths pressed down on him like a crushing force, but there was still unfinished business.

With shaking hands, Aleksandr wiped his tear-streaked face and focused on the half-broken anti-telepathy helmet. Orlov's escape meant he still had access to his research, clones, and connections. If left unchecked, Orlov could rebuild his twisted work from the ground up.

Aleksandr couldn't allow his life's biggest threat to be left existing.

His mind settled on two urgent needs: information and money.

But stopping Orlov with his current level wasn't enough. Aleksandr needed more power. The facility had spent years trying to turn him into the ultimate weapon, but now, he would refine himself on his own terms. If the world wanted to turn him into a monster, he would become something far worse—something beyond their control.

He needed to understand the true potential of quirks. Not just his own, but others that could be harnessed, replicated, or countered. If there were abilities that could challenge him, he needed to know about them. If there were quirks that could make him stronger, he needed to find a way to acquire them.

Using the stolen staff member's memories, Aleksandr found the man's laptop. It was dead. He plugged it in and, with a quick jolt of electricity, forced it to charge at an accelerated rate. Within seconds, the screen flickered to life.

He immediately began searching:

The World Heroes Association (WHA): Their structure, their operations, their involvement in the destruction of the facility. If Ivan and Anya had been rescued, WHA was his best chance of finding them.

Theories on quirk evolution and enhancement methods: The facility had pushed his limits in a controlled environment, but he needed unrestricted knowledge—black market augmentation, experimental drugs, artificial enhancements. Anything that could make him stronger.

Powerful quirks throughout history: He researched quirks that had changed the world—those classified as dangerous, unpredictable, or nearly unstoppable. He studied combat abilities, support quirks, weaknesses, countermeasures. He analyzed quirks that enhanced intelligence, perception, physical ability, and even longevity.

And then—something caught his eye.

A simple headline:

"Telepathy vs. Psychic Abilities: Understanding the Difference."

Curious, Aleksandr clicked on it, expecting nothing of significance. But as he read, his breath hitched.

Telepathy was merely one aspect of a greater power.

Telepathy was just mind-reading. Psychic abilities encompassed far more—thought projection, mind control, illusion creation, psychokinesis, and even more advanced forms of neural manipulation.

He had spent years believing his quirk was only about reading minds. But after everything he had done—the **paralysis and mental control on others—**he realized the truth.

He wasn't just a telepath.

He was psychic.

Aleksandr reached for the half-broken anti-telepathy helmet, turning it over in his hands. The design was crude yet effective—it had completely nullified his powers when Yulia put it on him.

His fingers traced the material, his mind racing. If Orlov had developed a countermeasure against his abilities, then someone—somewhere—must have knowledge about suppressing psychic quirks.

He turned back to the laptop and typed his next search query:

"Methods to block telepathy and psychic abilities."

He scoured every scientific journal, quirk theory blog, and underground discussion board. He checked government studies, military projects, black-market tech suppliers—anything that could give him insight.

Nothing.

There were plenty of theories, some speculations about neurological blockers, but no concrete evidence of a functioning device available to the public. No records of known materials that could suppress psychic quirks.

His frustration grew as he clicked through page after page of useless results.

So, Orlov really was ahead of the world on this.

The implications sank in. That meant Orlov either discovered or created something entirely new. And if that was the case… it was not something Aleksandr could just buy or steal from a common source.

Aleksandr leaned back in the chair, his fingers momentarily pausing over the keyboard. His mind was a machine, constantly processing, breaking down problems into actionable solutions.

There were two primary paths to counter Orlov's anti-telepathy helmets:

1. Strengthen and expand his psychic abilities

If his power evolved once, it could evolve again. There had to be more untapped depths within his psychic quirk. If he could push past its current limits—develop new techniques, refine his control—maybe he could bypass or even outright destroy the helmets' effects.

2. Analyze the material of the anti-telepathy helmet

The helmet was the only known countermeasure against his abilities. If he could break down its composition, understand the science behind it, he could potentially counter it completely.

Both paths required one thing: resources.

And resources meant money.

Aleksandr's fingers flew over the keyboard, his sharp eyes scanning through dozens of scientific research papers, technical documents, and engineering blueprints.

He dove deep into material science, quantum physics, and analytical chemistry, pulling every relevant piece of information about methods used to break down, analyze, and understand unknown materials conducted by professional scientists.

Spectroscopy—How different materials interact with electromagnetic radiation.

Electron Microscopy—Using beams of electrons to reveal atomic-level structures.

X-ray Crystallography—Mapping molecular arrangements through diffraction patterns.

Mass Spectrometry—Breaking down substances into their fundamental components.

The complexity of the concepts didn't deter him. If anything, it exhilarated him.

He memorized equations, studied case studies, downloaded blueprints of real-world laboratory machines, analyzing how they worked and calculating how difficult it would be to acquire or replicate them.

The deeper he went, the more he started connecting the dots—even without equipment, could he manipulate electromagnetism to mimic certain scanning techniques? Could his psychic abilities assist in ways science hadn't explored yet?

He didn't notice how much time had passed.

But then, reality sank in, all of those complex processes and methods required technology, high-end lab equipment—things he didn't have.

These machines weren't something he could just buy off the shelf.

He studied their costs, researching the price of equipment, private laboratories, black-market alternatives. The numbers were staggering.

Aleksandr pivoted to the next step—money acquisition.

Using the stolen laptop, he accessed the staff member's bank accounts, work records, and personal assets.

Savings accounts – Drained them.

Investments & stocks – Sold them.

Cryptocurrency wallets – Transferred them.

House deed & valuables – Cataloged for potential resale.

Even after liquidating everything, the total sum was still nowhere near enough.

Aleksandr's eyes darkened. He needed more. Much more.

And worry not, he already had plans for money problem.

But before that…

For the first time since escaping, Aleksandr caught his reflection in the dusty mirror near the corner of the room.

His face was smeared with dirt, his hair matted with sweat and dried blood—Gervasii's blood.

His torn clothes still carried the scent of burnt rubble, gunpowder, and death.

For a moment, he simply stared at himself.

It was the first time he had truly seen himself outside the facility.

Not as Test Subject.

Not as Weapon Prototype.

Not as The Experiment.

But as a human.

His chest rose and fell in measured breaths.

Then, he turned away.

He needed a shower.

____________

Stepping out of the shower, Aleksandr felt the weight of exhaustion cling to his body, but at least he no longer smelled like blood, smoke, and dust.

He turned to the closet, rummaging through the clothes left behind by the staff member. Most were oversized, but he had no other choice. He prioritized layering—something loose but concealing. A hoodie, a jacket, gloves, mask, scarf and a cap to cover his head.

The cold autumn air brushed against his face as he walked among the crowds, blending in like an invisible ghost. It was strange—after spending his entire life inside sterile walls, the sheer noise and movement of the outside world felt overwhelming. The rustling of leaves, the chatter of people, the distant hum of cars—it was a chaotic symphony unlike anything the facility ever allowed him to experience.

He passed by banks, carefully withdrawing small amounts of cash from the staff's credit cards at separate ATMs to avoid suspicion. The process was painfully slow, but he knew better than to make reckless moves.

As he walked further down the street, something caught his eye.

Shops lined the road, filled with eerie decorations—carved pumpkins, fake cobwebs, and strange-looking skeletons hanging from storefronts. People excitedly browsed through racks of costumes, trying on masks, capes, and all sorts of bizarre outfits.

Aleksandr narrowed his eyes.

'What the—?'

He instinctively reached out with his psychic quirk, scanning the thoughts of nearby people. Within seconds, he gathered fragments of information—excited parents buying outfits for their children, teenagers planning elaborate pranks, workers complaining about cleaning up after the holiday.

Halloween.

He processed the concept with mild confusion. A day where people dressed up as monsters, spirits, and fictional characters purely for entertainment? A celebration that served no tactical or strategic purpose?

'So the outside world wastes time on things like this.'

And yet… as he observed the intricate costumes—vampires, knights, superheroes, and even full sets of futuristic armor, weapons, gears from every pop culture in the world—he couldn't suppress an unfamiliar thought.

'Using the right definition and terminology…these things can be considered to look…'

His brain struggled to define the word. A part of him hesitated, rejecting the childish notion, but another part—the part that had never been allowed to simply be a child—whispered the answer mentally.

'...Cool.'

His expression remained neutral, but internally, he grimaced at himself. Shaking his head, Aleksandr refocused. He had more important things to do.

With calculated efficiency, Aleksandr navigated through the city streets, searching for a food vendor. He avoided high-end restaurants and instead picked a smaller, less crowded store.

Inside, he scanned the options quickly. His body was running on empty, and he needed real food. Nutrient-dense, high-calorie, something that would sustain him for the days ahead.

He purchased a full meal—meat, vegetables, rice, and a side of bread with drinks.

But as he passed another costume shop, his gaze landed on something that made him stop.

Aleksandr stood still for a moment, staring at the display window.

This one costume. It had triggered something in his mind for the reason he couldn't explain by himself. He was instantly captivated by its design. For him, the costume was the perfect blend of effectiveness and aesthetics, making it an easy and natural choice.

Logically, he told himself that a disguise would be useful for his next moves. That this was purely a strategic choice.

And yet…

A tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered, 'Why not?'

For the first time, there were no scientists monitoring his behavior. No guards dictating his every action.

Just this once—he could choose.

Aleksandr exhaled through his nose, shaking his head at his own ridiculousness.

Then, without another thought, he walked inside and bought the costume.

_____

After returning to the house and finishing the meal, Aleksandr tried on the costume.

It is a dark, imposing ensemble that blends military and gothic elements. The base of the outfit consists of a black, form-fitting, high-collared uniform jacket made of thick, durable fabric. The jacket has silver or metallic details on the shoulders, including epaulets, and is adorned with intricate, angular designs that convey an air of authority and menace.

The trousers are matching black, tucked into knee-high boots with metal accents, giving the whole look a sharp, structured feel. The boots themselves are sturdy, practical, and slightly reminiscent of military footwear. A pair of black gloves, often tight and form-fitting, complete the look.

The most striking aspect of the outfit is the iconic mask, which is both elegant and terrifying. It is a sleek, full-face mask made from a metallic substance that has a smooth, almost reflective finish, giving Aleksandr a faceless, cold appearance. The mask features a mechanical design with sharp, geometric elements that evoke both military precision and a hint of steampunk aesthetics. The mask's eyes are often glowing or have an eerie, artificial quality to them, adding a sense of otherworldliness to the overall appearance.

There was, however, a problem. Despite Aleksandr's insistence to the shop owner that he wanted the smallest size, the costume was still slightly oversized for his immature frame. When he first slipped it on and looked at himself in the mirror, a twinge of disappointment struck him. The sharp, intimidating lines of the outfit that he had imagined would exude power and control now made him look somewhat silly and goofy.

He decided he would find a tailor or a costume designer—someone skilled enough to alter the outfit—so he could read their mind and learn how to adjust it to fit his frame perfectly.