Despite opening SCP-CN-146 for only a split second, Luoshu was thrilled to see The SCP Field Guide update with a new entry.
[Page: 93]
[Item Number: SCP-CN-146]
[Item Name: Parallel Universe Storm (Fake)]
[Object Class: Keter]
[Abilities: █████. This is ███████.]
[Status: ███]
[Interaction History: Click to Play]
[X]
Seeing nearly the entire description redacted, Luoshu sighed in frustration.
But it confirmed one thing—his earlier guess was wrong.
If what lay beyond that door had truly been a Supreme Hyperborean Entity, The SCP Field Guide wouldn't have censored its abilities so thoroughly.
Only truths related to the world's secrets were blacked out.
Once again, his lack of strength barred him from the answers he sought.
Still, with The SCP Field Guide now at 93 pages, Luoshu rallied his spirits. It was barely past midnight—plenty of time to reach 100 entries tonight.
With renewed determination, he moved on to the next anomaly.
The Overseer's Wrath
Meanwhile, Foundation satellites monitoring Site-CN-06 erupted in alarm.
Every surveillance feed blared the same alert:
"Report to Overseer-6! Edita Space SCP-CN-146 was breached at 16:03:19 GMT! Duration: 2 seconds!"
This was a message even the O5 Council couldn't access.
Across the ocean, in his lakeside castle, "God" shot up from his throne.
He was Overseer-6—The Administrator.
Normally, he masqueraded as the benign SCP-343 ("God") at Site-17, playing the role of a gentle British gentleman.
But beneath that facade lay the Foundation's highest authority—its sole Level-6 overseer.
Without this status, an uncontainable entity like him would never have been classified as Safe.
"The greatest hiding place is in plain sight."
The Administrator left daily operations to the O5 Council, intervening only in world-ending crises.
Yet this time, he'd underestimated his foe.
From their first meeting at Site-17, he'd sensed something off about Luoshu—but hadn't acted decisively.
He'd sent SCP-053 (Young Girl) and SCP-096 (The Shy Guy) after him. Both failed.
When Luoshu slipped away at Area-14, the Administrator finally recognized the threat—but by then, Luoshu had grown too powerful to easily suppress.
With antimemetics, mental enslavement, mechanical animation, photo warping, evolutionary distortion...
He could hide, control, fight, and escape at will.
Even as The Administrator, "God" had no clean way to eliminate him.
Then came Great Sound is Faint.
The moment Luoshu's "Hello, world" echoed globally, the Administrator recognized that voice.
From then on, Luoshu became Enemy No. 1.
What followed was a series of gambits:
Sending Luoshu to the Pamirs—hoping the banished SCP-3221 (Prester John), a Level-5 reality bender, would kill him.
Failed.
Having Barbie "invite" him to Area-13.
Backfired.
Issuing global warrants, deploying Achilles' Heel and Pandora's Box simultaneously.
Yet Luoshu's survival skills had outpaced containment efforts. While not yet able to directly challenge the Foundation, he could protect himself while causing havoc.
He'd killed "Cupid" and "Reminiscence."
He'd poached "God's" assets.
He'd freed SCP-126 (The Unseen Friend).
He'd stolen SCP-005 (The Key).
And now—he'd opened SCP-CN-146's door.
That door... guarded the Foundation's most forbidden secret.
Not even the O5s knew what lay beyond.
Yet Luoshu had opened it effortlessly.
As The Administrator, "God" could tolerate no more.
Gritting his teeth, he muttered, "Luoshu... You truly are him."
Then he called Barbie.
"Luoshu is at Site-CN-06 in Tianjin. Mobilize Achilles' Heel and Pandora's Box—now!"
The Strike Team
Five minutes later, six helicopters took off from the capital's military base.
Two Z-20 gunships carried Achilles' Heel and Pandora's Box.
Four Mi-26 heavy transports—each with 20-ton lift capacity—ferried SCP-076-1 (Abel's containment cube).
In the lead Mi-26, Barbie eyed the suspended cube skeptically.
"Can he fight? You blew him up last time..."
The Pandora's Box commander smirked. "Don't worry. We've mastered his resurrection timing. He's on call now."
Officially, Abel's revival took anywhere from 6 hours to 25 years.
That was a lie.
The Foundation had fine-tuned the process, ensuring he could be deployed within 6 hours.
If his resurrection were truly unpredictable, why would MTF-Omega-7 exist?
To guard his coffin?
Please. In ancient times, only disgraced generals were sent to tend tombs.
Reassured, Barbie watched as the helicopter formation streaked through the night.
They'd reach Tianjin's Shichangpu Hospital (Site-CN-06's cover) in under an hour.
By then, Luoshu would've just logged the last Euclid-class anomaly.