The moment the entire Marvel world saw the latest broadcast, everyone fell into stunned silence. Then, almost instantly, the live feed exploded with panic.
"Oh my god! About 6.8 billion human casualties in just twenty-four hours?!"
"It's insane! That's beyond terrifying!"
"If this really happened… it means the world faced a true end-of-days scenario!"
"And the Foundation somehow turned it around? How could that even be possible?"
The chat feed was flooded with disbelief and horror.
The Ancient One's Realization
At Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One's usually calm expression froze.
Her eyes locked onto the glowing words on the screen:
XK-A Class 'Solar Singularity' Scenario.
Her fingers trembled. The blood drained from her face.
"6.8 billion deaths in one day… just from a single XK-class event? That's madness!"
Even for the Marvel world, which had faced alien invasions and cosmic wars, such numbers were unimaginable. Yet somehow, the Foundation had endured this nightmare and survived—otherwise, James wouldn't still be sitting calmly before his terminal right now.
Then, a dreadful thought struck her. Safe?
Her heart skipped a beat. The sound of those strange footsteps from earlier echoed in her mind. A horrible realization took shape.
If everything in the SCP archives corresponded to reality… then the Foundation's containment reports weren't fiction—they were history.
The Watcher's Shock
In the depths of the Observer Dimension, even Uatu the Watcher couldn't hide his alarm.
"6.8 billion dead? That's a blow no civilization could survive!" he whispered.
He read the words on-screen, muttering: "Solar Singularity…" and sighed deeply.
[SCP-001's effects are not caused by ultraviolet radiation, but by visible light (390–700 nm). Moonlight also carries the same property.]
[When exposed to sunlight, organic organisms begin to liquefy from the point of contact. The process continues until the organism is entirely transformed, resembling melting wax.]
[Despite the physical change, the organism does not die during the process.]
[After transformation, these entities—designated SCP-001-A—take on a gelatinous form, often retaining distorted traces of their original shapes.]
Stark Industries — Fear and Confusion
At Stark Tower, Colonel Rhodes gaped at the display.
"Wait… exposure to light liquefies people? And they don't die?"
The transformed beings turned into something else—alive, but no longer human.
Worse still, the containment procedures made it clear:
Individuals exposed to SCP-001 are to be considered losses. No euthanasia is to be attempted.
Testing confirms SCP-001-A instances are relatively safe for consumption.
Rhodes almost dropped his coffee. "They… ate them? That's psychotic!"
Tony Stark muttered darkly, "Desperate people take desperate measures."
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Dread
In the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, agents stared blankly at their monitors, still reeling from the XK-A Solar Singularity scenario.
Now, they faced another nightmare.
The screen described an abnormal change in visible sunlight, melting humans into living, hostile sludge-creatures. Ninety-five percent of the global population perished within hours.
Nick Fury clenched his fists. "So this is why SCP-001 was classified Apollyon… totally uncontrollable."
Natasha Romanoff's voice was barely a whisper. "But the world's fine now, right? The Foundation fixed it—like the time they repaired the timeline collapse from SCP-3999?"
Fury shook his head grimly. "Maybe… but that doesn't erase what really happened."
Her lips tightened. She looked back at the screen, fear and sorrow clouding her eyes.
The Nature of the Transformed
[Plants remain inert but continue photosynthesis.]
[Animals retain movement but lose advanced function; humans keep fragments of intelligence and memory.]
[Anomalous creatures exposed to SCP-001 lose all special abilities.]
[SCP-001-A entities can fuse at a molecular level. Their combined mass grows infinitely, forming ever-larger clusters.]
"No upper limit…" someone murmured in the livestream chat. Panic spread again.
[These fused masses are shapeless and chaotic, their bodies shifting between liquid and semi-solid states.]
[Limbs constantly emerge and sink back into the surface, endlessly absorbed by one another.]
[They move using pseudo-appendages, dragging their biomass like crawling shapeshifters.]
At that instant, the audience remembered the strange footsteps heard earlier outside James's door—the heavy step, then the dragging shuffle.
Their hearts froze. Could it be… the creature outside was an SCP-001-A?
James Remains Unmoved
The screen cut to James, sitting calmly in his dimly lit room. His expression didn't change.
The flickering light reflected off his eyes as he read the files.
Even though those footsteps echoed earlier, even though the place he sat in looked identical to the one described in the SCP files, he remained perfectly composed.
His quiet composure calmed millions of viewers watching across the world—until the next line appeared on-screen.
[+ Open Attachment: Audio Log]
[Access Granted.]
A faint hiss of static filled the room. The subtitles rolled like an old text adventure:
[You open the file. A harsh burst of static crackles through the speakers. Your pulse quickens. Another click as the microphone stabilizes.]
[A shaky voice follows.]
"Ahem… this is Doctor Logan Igotta, level three researcher…"
Everyone leaned closer.
At first, they had believed SCP-001 was just another mysterious file—maybe even a riddle.
But now, it became terrifyingly real.
The trembling voice continued, trying to sound professional:
"Since Site-46 is compromised by several infohazards, we activated Blackout Protocol. We're cut off from the Foundation's main network. I'll keep updating this log if we receive new intel."
She paused. "The good news is… we're still receiving transmissions from other sites. Some people are alive. Some are fleeing to Site-19, others are fighting the A-types… we're just waiting, hoping to survive."
Connections Forming
Inside S.H.I.E.L.D., Natasha frowned. "So this is a real-time audio log from researchers trapped after the SCP-001 outbreak?"
Nick Fury was more focused on one name. "Site-19… the same place James is in right now."
Could it all be connected?
The feed continued. Red text appeared on the monitor:
[She sighs.]
Dr. Igotta's tired voice echoed again:
"We had a containment breach a few days ago. A rogue humanoid anomaly released half a dozen Keters and fled. They made it about five feet out of the tunnel before melting into thick soup. I… I saw it on the surveillance feed. A few seconds later, they started moving again."
Keter vs. Apollyon
The chat exploded once more.
"What?! She said half a dozen Keter-class were released?"
"And they melted immediately?!"
"That means even Keter-level anomalies—the most dangerous and resilient—were destroyed in seconds!"
"That's… impossible!"
The Apollyon-class anomaly had just erased the Foundation's strongest entities with sunlight.
The Ancient One's Horror
Back at Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One whispered hoarsely, "Unbelievable…"
Though the Foundation's classification only indicated containment difficulty, it was common knowledge that Keter-class objects were powerful beyond reason—immortal beasts, god-like entities, or unstoppable forces like SCP-682 or SCP-2317.
Yet SCP-001 had reduced them to liquid in moments.
She closed her eyes. "This… is true destruction."
The Log Continues
[The researcher pauses. A match strikes.]
[A breath of smoke follows.]
"Ah… better. I'm in the designated smoking area—though who even cares anymore?" she muttered weakly.
"There aren't many of us left. I'm in my office; Jerry and Director Phillips are in the barracks; Clyde and a few D-class locked themselves in the armory. And Ari… she's been there since the incident. I should go check on her."
Her tone softened—Ari was her lover. For a fleeting moment, her voice carried warmth. She managed a small laugh as the two exchanged words over comms, a brief spark of humanity in the endless dark.
For those watching, that fragile connection was almost comforting.
But then—
Something changed.
The lights on the monitor flickered. A low static hum deepened. The air in James's room thickened like syrup. The calm atmosphere shattered in an instant.
The Silence Before Horror
James slowly looked up from the screen. The livestream audience held their breath.
From somewhere beyond his door came a wet dragging sound, growing louder—step… drag… step… drag…
The same sound described in the logs.
Every viewer, every hero, every agent, every mystic froze.
On the display, Dr. Igotta's voice stuttered.
"Wait—what's that sound? Ari? Ari, is that you—?"
A crash. Static roared.
Then nothing.
Only silence.
And in that silence, a faint reflection passed across James's monitor—something moving behind him, liquid and human-shaped.
The screen turned black.
End of Chapter 193 — "Apollyon-Class vs Keter-Class: SCP-001 Instantly Defeats Keter."
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