Another year.
Another summoning.
The System did not announce danger this time.
It announced opportunity.
SCP‑038 — Object Class: SafeAn anomalous tree capable of perfectly cloning any object that makes contact with its bark.
I stared at the designation longer than usual.
A Safe‑class SCP that could replicate anything was never truly safe. It was merely… uncontested.
The Watcher moved before I finished reading.
Within minutes, Darius had activated his entire shadow network. Spies across continents shifted priorities without question. Merchants, travelers, soldiers, monks—anyone who could plausibly notice an "unusual tree" was suddenly listening for rumors.
A tree that bore steel fruit.A tree that copied gold.A tree that made two swords from one.
In this era, a miracle like that could not stay hidden for long.
I felt it, too.
That subtle pressure in the back of my mind—the same sensation I had felt near SCP‑4001. A quiet click in reality, as if the world had added a new rule.
SCP‑038 wasn't dangerous by itself.
It was dangerous because of what it made inevitable.
My thoughts raced.
Weapons.Medical supplies.Containment equipment.Anomalous artifacts.
Even a single exposure to the bark could change the balance of power across continents.
And if someone else found it first—
No.
That would not happen.
Within days, reports began to converge.
A forest region. Remote. Untouched. Locals avoided it—not out of fear, but confusion. Tools left leaning against a tree somehow doubled. A hunter swore his spear had "grown a brother."
Classic human understatement.
I authorized immediate escalation.
A full Foundation recovery team—silent, loyal, expendable if necessary. D‑Class were prepared for controlled testing. Julius arranged a perimeter so clean it looked like nothing had ever existed there at all.
When we finally saw it…
It was disappointingly ordinary.
A tree.
Rough bark. Broad leaves. Deep roots.
And the most dangerous manufacturing facility in human history.
Initial testing confirmed it.
Anything that touched the bark was cloned.
Perfectly.
Instantaneously.
The copies matured within minutes, as if reality itself hurried to justify their existence.
Metal. Wood. Paper. Artifacts.
The tree did not care.
I watched as a simple iron bar became two.
Then four.
Then eight.
And I felt something cold settle into my chest.
"This," I said quietly, "is how scarcity ends."
And how war begins.
We secured SCP‑038 under extreme containment protocols. No unsupervised contact. No living organisms beyond plant matter. No anomalous items until full risk modeling was complete.
And above all—
No documentation leaks.
The world was not ready to know this tree existed.
That night, alone in my quarters, I considered the pattern.
SCP‑006.SCP‑408.SCP‑4001.Now SCP‑038.
Longevity.Deception.Knowledge.Replication.
Tools.
Infrastructure.
The God was not being kind.
He was preparing us.
Because when the nightmare SCPs came—the ones that devoured cities, erased gods, and rewrote physics—we would need more than courage.
We would need industry.
And SCP‑038 was the beginning of that.
I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly.
For now, the System gives us Safe objects.
Useful ones.
But I could feel it.
The calm before containment failure.