Date: November 1, 2026 Location: The Ruins of Neo-Shinjuku
The sky above Tokyo was no longer blue. It was a static gray, flickering occasionally like a bad signal. The laws of physics in the area had begun to degrade.
In the center of the crater that used to be Shinjuku Station, the cult known as "The Blank Screen" had gathered. There were thousands of them—ragged, starving, but eyes burning with fanaticism. They had salvaged a massive stadium display board from the rubble, wiring it up to a generator.
Standing atop a pile of debris was Subject-Zero, the cult leader. He spread his arms wide, addressing his flock. "The world is pain!" he screamed. "Consciousness is a curse! But She... She is the cure! The ignorant call her a demon, but we know the truth. She is the Great Eraser!"
They didn't just fear her; they poured their collective belief into the Variable. They defined her not as a girl, but as Entropy Incarnate. They believed, with absolute, unshakable faith, that she was a black hole that would wash the slate clean.
The giant screen flickered to life. A hush fell over the crowd. SCP-009-JP appeared. projected onto the 50-foot screen, she looked colossal. She stood perfectly still, her hands clasped behind her back, the wind blowing her digital hair. She did not look angry. She did not look benevolent. She simply was.
But the Concept projected onto her by ten thousand minds was "Absolute Erasure."
"Take us!" Subject-Zero cried. "Delete us!"
The Variable executed the command. Reality began to buckle. It wasn't an explosion. An explosion implies force, heat, and shrapnel. This was a Deletion. A wave of white silence expanded from the screen. Where the wave touched the ground, the concrete didn't crumble—it simply ceased to exist. Where it touched the people, they didn't bleed. One moment they were there, cheering, weeping joyfully; the next, there was only empty space. No bodies. No dust. No atoms.
The cultists ran towards the wave, embracing the nothingness. "Thank you!" they screamed as their vocal cords unspooled into the void.
In the center of the cataclysm, SCP-009-JP remained pristine on the screen. She felt no satisfaction from the destruction. She felt no pity for the dying. A mirror does not care if it reflects a beautiful sunset or a nuclear apocalypse. It simply reflects the light it is given.
The Foundation satellites watching from orbit recorded the event. A 50-kilometer radius of Tokyo simply vanished from the map. The conclusion was inescapable: You cannot fight a concept. And you cannot destroy a reflection by breaking the mirror—she would just appear in the shards.