The sharp, rhythmic chime of the school bell echoed down the corridors of Kamiyama High School, signaling the official end of the afternoon lectures.
Yuki instantly stood up from his desk.
While the rest of his classmates let out heavy sighs of relief and slowly began chatting about their after-school plans, his hands moved with precise, rapid efficiency.
He swept his textbooks, notebooks, and pens into his school bag, slung it over his shoulder, and walked straight out of the classroom door without looking back.
As his uniform shoes clicked rhythmically against the smooth floor of the hallway, his mind was processing the massive reality that plague him during lunch.
He had finally come to a conclusion of his own.
I am O5-1.
The Reincarnator, Yuki thought, his jaw tightening with newfound resolve.
I am the sole Administrator.
That means I write the code, and I make the rules.
If following the tradition of the SCP Foundation meant locking up Anya Forger in a sterile lab, declaring war on Iwanaga Kotoko’s entire spirit army, or tackling reality-warping first-years with a textbook, then the standard rule was completely useless to his current reality.
He needed to adapt.
He needed to change.
He was going to bend the core motto of the Foundation to fit his.
Firsts, Secure, would remain entirely unchanged.
Anomalies still needed to be kept hidden, monitored, and protected from public exposure or hostile weaponization.
Second, Contain, is where he the Administrator would draw a line.
Instead of blindly throwing every single anomalous entity or humanoid into a reinforced concrete cage for infinite vivisection and study, Yuki decided that he would hold the final veto on who gets locked away and who stays free.
If an anomaly possessed a cooperative consciousness, a stable moral compass, or a civilian life that naturally kept its reality-bending properties suppressed, like Anya’s telepathy or Iwanaga’s yokai, then they wouldn’t be locked in a vault.
They would be granted provisional freedom under constant surveillance.
And even better, Yuki thought, a brilliant, sharp smirk slowly playing across his lips as he exited the main school building into the crisp winter air.
Instead of draining resources to build a multi-million dollar infrastructure from scratch, I will utilize the anomalies themselves to build the Foundation’s physical teeth.
He would employ cooperative anomalous individuals as highly specialized, top-tier frontline personnel.
He would build a makeshift, elite Mobile Task Force unit composed entirely of reality-breaking entities.
It was exactly like Project Pandora’s Box, the legendary and controversial Omega-7 initiative from the SCP Foundation.
If the Foundation could bend its own strict directives to weaponize entities like Abel for global security, then Yuki was fully authorized to do the exact same thing here.
Now that he knew people from this world, individuals born with unique, reality-defying traits, curses, or supernatural affiliations, were also treated as SCPs by the app.
A completely new tactical avenue opened before him.
These weren’t just mindless, destructive monsters that needed to be caged away from the world.
They were reasoning, emotional beings who often just wanted to live their lives in peace.
He didn’t need a multi-billion-dollar military budget to secure them.
He could approach them as human beings.
He could reason with them, offer them protection, and give them a purpose, effectively rallying them to help with his cause.
By giving them a sanctuary within the shadow, they would naturally fight to protect the very world they belonged to.
And finally, Protect.
This core value would remain the absolute, unshakeable crown jewel of his entire architecture.
Shielding humanity from any and all anomalous threats to ensure the world stayed completely normal, sane, and safe.
Millions of ordinary people would wake up, go to work, pack their foods, and sleep peacefully, oblivious to the eldritch horrors, biological weapons, and cosmic distortions lurking right outside their windows.
They would live in the light, because Yuki and his newly formed council were preparing to stand firmly in the darkness to fight the things that defied common sense.
The layout in his mind was finally complete.
The blueprint was drawn.
Now that everything he needed was in order, the crushing stress of the morning completely dissolved, replaced by a clear, focused sense of purpose.
The ground beneath his feet was still completely bare and free of snow, the dark asphalt crisp under the winter chill.
He proceeded to focus on going home, visualizing his warm kitchen and the routine tasks waiting for him.
But as he continued walking and finally began to get nearer the orphanage, the temperature dropped, and the first delicate flakes of white began to drift down from the gray sky, slowly dusting the streets as it finally began to snow.
Right as the first snowflake melted against his collar, a sudden, phantom itch scratched at the back of his mind.
Yuki paused mid-stride, blinking against the crisp afternoon glare as a little nudge hit him on his head, a nagging sensation humming in his skull as if he were forgetting something incredibly important.
He stared blankly at the darkening path for a solid three seconds, his fingers unconsciously twitching against his school bag strap.
“Wait…” Yuki muttered to himself, his eyes widening slightly as the conversation from lunch break replayed in his brain.
“Didn’t I… didn’t I promise Kawai-san that I would bring her my novels for Vivy and Cyberpunk tomorrow morning?”
(Author: Uhm… Tohru?…)
***
A pristine, high-end mechanical keyboard clacked with lightning-fast speed, the rhythmic noise echoing sharply inside a cramped, dimly lit space.
05-3 Best Hacker.
Kurumi sat slouched lazily, her tiny frame practically swallowed by an oversized hoodie.
She had completely retrofitted a large Japanese closet located deep within the residential area of LycoReco.
This tight, hidden space was brilliantly transformed into her private hacking center, packed to the brim with glowing multi-monitor displays, buzzing server, custom routers, and tangled cables interwoven with her favorite gaming consoles.
Clack, clack, clack…
SMACK.
With a theatrical, proud flourish, she slammed her small index finger down on the enter key for the final, dramatic click.
“And… enter! Nailed it!” Kurumi cheered out loud to her cramped closet walls, a look of immense, overflowing arrogance stretching across her face as the main terminal did her bidding.
Proud of her own skills, she leaned her head completely back against the headrest and placed her small hand on her nape.
Trying to feel the mark in it, III.
The permanent mark instantly made her remember the time she had just woken up on the futon inside this very closet.
As the legendary hacker Walnut, her first instinct after returning from that bizarre assembly had been to aggressively attack the strange program.
She had hooked her smartphone up to her server stack and tried hacking the app, attempting to rip apart its source code or trace its servers.
But to her shock, her deepest system scans couldn’t find a single file, script, or bit of data stored on the device.
It was an engineering impossibility.
The phone’s total storage capacity remained completely unchanged, yet the app was still sitting right there on her screen, perfectly functional and entirely untouchable.
Realizing she was dealing with an organizational network that defied common sense, she had reluctantly abandoned the code and decided to verify the information manually.
She had surfed the deepest, most secure corners of the internet to check the coordinates of the so-called SCP objects the other council members were deployed to retrieve.
To her utter bewilderment, she found them.
Peering through intercepted, real-time CCTV footage from international networks, she confirmed the legitimacy of the anomalies with her own eyes.
Right after, she located the specific data that O5-1 had entrusted to her to manipulate.
Working at a blinding pace from the comfort of her closet bunker, she downloaded the raw files and completely changed the police forensic reports by gaslighting them.
She entirely erased any mention of human teeth, rewriting the ballistic logs to display standard low-caliber lead bullets instead. Find the original chapter at novelping.com.
It didn’t take long for her unmatched skills to completely finish the job, wiping the digital footprint of the weaponized anomaly before the public or the media could even catch a whisper of the truth.
After this, she heard a sharp, rhythmic knock on her closet door, prompting her to stop reminiscing about her morning.
She pushed the sliding panel open and found Nakahara Mizuki standing in front of her fort, wearing her LycoReco café uniform and looking thoroughly exhausted.
“Hey, Kurumi!” Mizuki groaned, hands on her hips.
“Stop slacking off in your cave and go downstairs! We need you to help out with the inventory preparation before the shop opens for the afternoon shift. Move it!”
Kurumi had a sudden, mischievous idea.
A dangerous spark lit up in her large eyes as she picked up her smartphone from the desk.
“Hold on a minute, Mizuki,” she whined playfully.
Acting with speed, Kurumi grabbed her VR headset off the shelf and slid it over her own eyes to shield them from any direct light exposure.
She then aimed her smartphone’s camera lens directly at Mizuki’s face and activated the Class A General Retrograde utility.
CLICK!
A blinding, hyper-intense pulse of clean white light exploded from the phone’s flash, violently illuminating the place.
Kurumi watched through the filtered lenses of her headset as Mizuki’s annoyed expression instantly drained away, her eyes turning completely vacant and blank.
Before Mizuki could snap out of the daze, Kurumi leaned forward from her closet frame, her voice dropping into a calm, suggestive tone.
“You don’t actually need my help, Mizuki. Go back downstairs to the kitchen, finish the preparations yourself, and forget you ever came up here.”
“Right… I don’t need your help…” Mizuki mumbled in a monotone voice, entirely gaslighted by the command.
She turned around like a zombie and began shuffling back down the corridor toward the café stairs, completely oblivious to the fact that her brain had just been neuralyzed by a shut-in.
With a wide, victorious smile on her face, Kurumi took off her VR headset and closed the doors of her fortress once more, sealing herself back into the high-tech darkness of her closet command center.
She was absolutely thrilled.
The Foundation’s hardware was completely real, and it worked like an absolute charm.
“Hehehe… this thing is way better than I thought,” she giggled, hopping back into her throne.
She pulled up the global interface on her main monitor, tapping into the [ FORUM ].
She didn’t have the urge to play video games right now.
She wanted to watch exactly how the other O5 members were handling their physical missions across the globe.
***
Author’s note:
OK!…
Let’s talk about the MC…
What I want for him is to stay the way he is (for now)…
I don’t want early power-ups or make him OP…
I want him to stay like a human for a while, making mistakes and such…
My reason for this is the SCP shorts on YouTube that inspired me to start this…
♫I’m only human after all.
I’m only human after all.
Don’t put the blame on me♫…
Yeah, that started this shit…
Hehe…