A silence nearly solidified permeated the hall.
Holographic screens hovered in mid-air, occupying the entire space of the front wall. The cold blue-white light dyed every corner of the headquarters with a metallic hue, casting an ethereal, sickly pallor onto the faces of all personnel present.
Densely packed streams of data flowed rapidly across the screens before being converted into concise directives dispatched to sites worldwide. Flickering green code interlaced with red warning icons, reflecting off the busy figures in the hall.
Researchers and command staff hurried between consoles, their footsteps, the clacking of keyboards, and the instructions over the comms weaving a tense symphony.
The O5 Councilor stood before the massive holographic screen, hands clasped behind his back. His face shifted between light and shadow as the screen flickered, his pupils reflecting the data racing past. On the screen, situational maps representing global theaters of war updated in real-time.
[Mobile Task Force Alpha-1 "Red Right Hand" has initiated plan revisions. Successful prevention of sabotage against SCP-2000; Yellowstone region stabilized. Some researchers questioned the tactical adjustments; debriefing pending post-war.]
[Mobile Task Force Nu-7 "Hammer Down" is currently clearing refugee camps of the corrupted via "Soul Mountain." Current progress: 63%. Expected delay of 4-6 hours due to interference from the Church of the Broken God.]
[SCP-2639 "Video Game Violence" has deployed to survivor communities; engaging hostile forces. No anomalous fluctuations detected thus far.]
Everything was proceeding steadily.
The Councilor took a deep breath, the cold air making his lungs tighten slightly. He turned his head to look at the figure who had just approached. The Nine-Tailed Fox insignia on the newcomer's chest was particularly striking under the lights.
"The anomalous visitor codenamed 'Deliverance' has completed his dive into the mental space." The Captain of the Nine-Tailed Fox spoke in a low voice that only the Councilor could hear. "The latest information suggests he has successfully broken through the obstacles set by the entity. He is currently encroaching upon the core area." He paused before adding, "Researchers estimate that we will soon perceive the changes he brings within the physical universe."
The Councilor nodded, his gaze returning to the holographic screen. "Maintain close observation." His voice was steady. "Right now, he is our only hope."
After a brief silence, the Councilor changed the subject. "What is the status of the distribution of the Hard-Heart memetic cure?"
This cure essentially consisted of a series of seemingly ordinary images that actually contained memetic coding imbued with religious connotations of "Hope," designed to suppress the mental parasitism of the "Afterlife." Previously, to avoid alerting the enemy and to achieve the goal of purging humanity before the entity could react, the Foundation had strictly limited the distribution of the cure. They had not even disclosed it to some peripheral members, leading to situations where individuals like Pietro nearly perished during internal purges.
However, under Adam's guidance—or rather, his "spoilers"—the Foundation was shocked to discover that the entity was attempting to use a temporal reset titled "A Round Peg in a Square Hole" to erase all of the Foundation's efforts. They truly hadn't anticipated such a maneuver. Since the entity had flipped the table first, the Foundation had no reason to hold back anymore.
A subtle expression appeared on the Nine-Tailed Fox Captain's face. "It's going much more smoothly than expected," he said quietly. "We have spread the [Cure] within all anomalous organizations through our moles. As soon as they see these carriers and the intelligence we provided, individuals previously parasitized by the entity can immediately break free from its influence. They can clearly perceive the residual thoughts of their compatriots who are 'suffering for all eternity' in the air."
"Our counterparts... they understood our intentions instantly. Many began actively helping us spread the cure the moment they recovered. Now, the memetic carrier is spreading globally at a geometric rate. The speed has even exceeded our most optimistic estimates."
The corner of the Councilor's mouth quirked upward in something akin to a cold smirk. "Naturally. It is as expected," he said calmly. "Our counterparts—which of them didn't crawl out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood? If they lacked even this much decisiveness, they wouldn't have survived in this hellish world until today."
Before he could finish, a sudden change occurred.
A piercing shriek exploded within the command center. It wasn't a sound that entered through the ears, but a tearing sensation that erupted directly from the heart. It felt as if someone had driven a rusted iron nail into the cranium and stirred it violently through the brain matter. A cold, metallic taste filled their mouths, and the world before them was instantly shrouded in a crimson filter.
The Councilor's body swayed violently; he used every ounce of strength just to remain standing. Beside him, the Nine-Tailed Fox Captain was down on one knee, veins bulging on his forehead and teeth grinding audibly. Throughout the headquarters, screams and the dull thuds of bodies hitting the floor rose and fell. At least a dozen researchers and commanders blacked out instantly, their bodies collapsing as if their bones had been removed.
Those who managed to stay conscious were as pale as paper, yet they struggled to drag their fallen colleagues to safety. The Councilor forced his consciousness to remain clear. He opened his mouth and roared with all his might:
"Report situation—immediately!"
The technician before the holographic screen bit his lower lip hard, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as his fingers flew across the keyboard. "Large-scale space-time distortion detected! Energy indices of a global Black-Type entity outbreak detected! Psionic fluctuations exceed measurement limits!"
Another voice followed immediately, trembling uncontrollably: "Assessment in progress—it's an HK-class scenario (Deicidial Suppression)! Target localization complete!"
The Councilor nearly roared his command: "Get a real-time feed now!"
The data stream on the large screen vanished in an instant. In its place was an image that made everyone hold their breath.
Standing on the distant horizon was a presence whose shape was somewhat like a stretched human. No. "Stretched" wasn't the right word. Rather than being stretched, the space around it was warping. Like an image forcibly elongated in crude editing software, its limbs were as thin as spider silk, stabbing from the ground into the clouds. It swayed gently in the distorted space-time, each movement sending out rings of invisible ripples. Warped light and shadow formed an eerie halo around it.
It hovered, moving forward. Life detectors showed that within a ten-kilometer radius, all life signals vanished in the same instant, only to eerily recover the next second, flickering repeatedly like a faulty light bulb.
"That... is [It]," someone murmured, their voice filled with shock.
The entire command center fell into a deathly silence. Everyone stared at the presence on the screen that defied accurate verbal description—staring at that distorted, absurd form that should never have appeared in reality.
And then—
A look of near-ecstasy appeared on the Councilor's face. His pupils contracted sharply, but his mouth curved upward uncontrollably. It was a complex expression of shock, relief, and madness.
Thank God. Thank God!
That visitor from another universe—Adam—he had actually done it!
In the Foundation's countless internal simulations, this phenomenon was supposed to occur only after 97% of the human population had died. Only after all other anomalous organizations were annihilated, and the final survivors looked up at the sky, would this entity descend for the final showdown.
But now, humanity had only lost one-third of its population. The Foundation's main combat structure was intact. The other anomalous organizations still possessed full fighting capacity. And It—at this very moment—had been stripped of the natural barrier of the Noosphere and exposed within the physical universe.
This was quite simply—a godsend!
"Signal incoming," the prompt sounded.
On the holographic screen, in the column next to the distorted form, icons representing various organizations lit up one by one. Across the screen, pairs of eyes—now hollow and clear—looked back, meeting the Councilor's gaze calmly.
The silence lasted for three seconds. Then, the Councilor smiled.
No words were needed. The moment their gazes met on the screen, they reached a consensus and laid down their past grievances.
It was time to let this "god," who had been hiding its head and showing its tail, taste the fury of mankind!