“It speaks for itself,” Yuki replied, his voice calm and measured as it cut through the chilling silence of the hall.
He leaned back slightly in the O5-1 chair, meeting the hidden gaze of the God of Wisdom.
“I lived a past life, and now I’m in a new one. That’s all there is to it.”
A sudden, sharp gasp shattered the quiet from the other side of the tridecagon table.
Before anyone could look away, the silhouette standing at the spot designated for O5-9 slammed both of his dark, void-like hands onto the surface of the obsidian table.
The impact echoed loudly against the impenetrable fog.
He leaned forward, his entire form trembling violently as he locked onto Yuki with absolute, frantic desperation.
“A past life…?” the shadow asked, his voice cracking, thick with an overwhelming, raw fervor.
“You remember it? You actually remember your previous existence? How? By what mechanism did your neural consciousness survive cellular death and transfer into a completely new biological vessel across time and space?!”
The sheer intensity of his sudden outburst caught the remaining standing members off guard, their obscured heads turning sharply toward him.
“Calm down,” Yuki said firmly, his eyes narrowing slightly at the frantic display.
“This isn’t the time or place for a scientific debate.”
“How can I calm down?!” the shadow shouted back, his breathing ragged, his posture practically begging for answers.
“Do you have any idea what that means?! If the soul or the mind can be actively re-coded into a new body… the medical implications, the eradication of terminal cellular decay, the preservation of human intellect, it changes everything! Please, you have to tell me how it happened!”
Yuki didn’t flinch under the weight of the desperate interrogation.
He kept his gaze locked onto the trembling silhouette, his voice dropping into a deep, commanding tone that brooked no argument.
“I told you, the Assembly does not conduct business standing up,” Yuki rebuked him coldly.
“If you want to be a part of this conversation and understand the nature of this space, sit down.”
The silhouette choked on his next breath, his hands tightening against the obsidian table until they shook.
For a long, agonized moment, he stood there, desperately wanting to press for details.
But seeing Yuki’s absolute, unyielding composure, he slowly relented.
He pulled back his heavy leather chair and sank deeply into it, burying his face in his dark hands as he tried to force his racing pulse to steady.
The familiar clinical chime chimed right on cue.
Floating directly in the dark air above his head, the sharp white letters rapidly materialized.
___
O5-9 The Pharmacologist
___
Yuki stared at the newly revealed text, and a wave of sudden understanding washed over him.
The Pharmacologist.
Seeing the title, Yuki instantly understood the absolute, frantic fervor that had just taken over the man.
For a master of medicine and chemical science, someone whose entire existence was dedicated to fighting disease and preserving life, the literal, factual proof of reincarnation was one of the ultimate frontiers.
The seated shadow slowly raised his head, looking upward at the glowing words hovering above his own seat.
He stared at it for a long moment, a low, exhausted sigh escaping his hidden lips as he acknowledged the system’s omniscient diagnosis.
“The Pharmacologist…” he muttered softly, his voice weary but filled with a profound, newfound respect.
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I am.”
Yuki let the heavy silence settle over the tridecagon table for a brief moment before turning his eyes back to the remaining standing figures.
He leaned forward, resting his chin on his steepled fingers.
“Alright then,” Yuki said, his voice echoing smoothly.
“Who’s next?”
“Well, if we’re just throwing chips into the blind pot, I suppose an old man has no excuse to lag behind!”
As the words were said, he immediately sat down.
In the dark air above his head, the bright white letters rapidly knitted themselves together, casting a stark glow over his wide shoulders.
___
O5-2 The Eccentric Inventor
___
The rounded shadow immediately craned his neck backward, squinting up at the floating words.
The moment he processed the title, his posture stiffened in a wave of comical offense.
A few soft, amused hums rippled through the other silhouettes at his theatrical denial.
Yuki looked at the glowing text, a genuine spark of interest lighting up his eyes.
A master craftsman of technology was exactly what the SCP Foundation needed.
“An inventor… nice,” Yuki said, a small, subtle smirk playing on his lips as he nodded toward the complaining shadow.
“We will definitely be counting on you for those creations in the near future, O5-2.”
“Hmph! Well, as long as you’re funding the research, I suppose I can swallow my pride,” the inventor grumbled, though his silhouette practically radiated a proud, eager energy as he settled in.
A soft, refined, feminine voice followed right after him, offering a slight bow.
“If the others are so willing to step forward, it would be shameful for me to delay.”
A poised, youthful silhouette pulled out her chair with immaculate, house-trained grace and sat down.
Instantly, the familiar clinical chime echoed through the silent hall, and the bright white letters knitted themselves together above her head.
___
O5-7 Little President
___
The silhouette blinked, staring up at the hovering text.
Her posture softened slightly, revealing a display of polite embarrassment, as her hidden hands smoothed down her clothes.
“Oh, dear… ‘Little President’?” she murmured, a gentle, self-deprecating chuckle escaping her.
“I must admit, I have been called that particular title at some point in my duties, but seeing it broadcast so officially is rather embarrassing.”
“If a gentle title like that causes you embarrassment, then this world has a very warped sense of modesty,” a cold, razor-sharp voice cut in from her immediate left.
The silhouette speaking possessed a rigid, terrifyingly elegant posture that practically dripped with aristocratic disdain.
Without waiting for an invitation, she regally slid into her chair, her back perfectly straight as she crossed her arms.
Shoft chime rang out with a noticeably lower, frostier pitch, and the text materialized above her.
___
O5-8 The Ice Princess
___
A collective, quiet shift ran through the room as the remaining standing members stared at the chilling designation.
Yuki’s eyes widened slightly as he read the glowing words.
The Ice Princess.
In a world that was suddenly revealing anomalies.
“The Ice Princess…” Yuki muttered, leaning forward as his gaze locked onto her shrouded form.
“Are you a reality warper?”
“A reality warper?” she repeated his words, her voice laced with complete and utter bewilderment.
Her shrouded form tilted slightly, radiating pure confusion at the bizarre terminology.
Yuki cleared his throat slightly, trying to bridge the gap between his fiction-savvy knowledge and her reality.
“Ah… by reality warper, I mean someone who possesses supernatural abilities. Like an esper, a psychic, or someone who can actively manipulate the physical laws of nature and defy common sense.”
A soft, sharp hmph escaped the elegant silhouette as she adjusted her posture, a wave of absolute certainty washing over her tone.
“Supernatural abilities? Do not be ridiculous,” she answered back smoothly, her voice carrying the rigid, unshakeable pride of an aristocrat.
“It is merely a moniker given to me by those who find my standards too exacting. I assure you, as a daughter of the Shinomiya family, I rely strictly on flawless calculations, lineage, and intellect to achieve my goals.”
“Oh wow, the Shinomiya family?” a voice dripping with heavy sarcasm immediately piped up from the seat of O5-3.
The Best Hacker slouched back in her leather chair, tapping her fingers lazily on the armrest.
“Well, aren’t we fancy? Guess an all-powerful reality-defying place still can’t filter out the out-of-touch, filthy rich elite. We actually got a real, genuine princess sitting at the table. Should we all bow down to your inheritance package, Your Highness?”
The silhouette of O5-8 stiffened instantly, her aristocratic arrogance flaring through the dark shroud.
“Watch your tongue, O5-3,” she hissed, her voice cutting through the air like a razor blade.
“You speak of a lineage that commands the infrastructure of an entire nation. A digital thief hidden behind a screen has no right to address me with such casual disrespect. Know your place.”
“My place? My place is wherever I want it to be, honey,” O5-3 shot back, leaning forward with an aggressive, mocking smirk that radiated through her shadowy outline.
“Your family might own the buildings, but guys like me own the data flowing through them. Keep talking down to me from your ivory tower, and see how fast your precious stocks take a nosedive before breakfast.”
“Are you threatening me? The absolute insolence—!”
“Enough,” Yuki interrupted.
He slammed his palm firmly down onto the dark obsidian table.
The dull thud resonated deeply across the seamless floor, amplified by the strange properties of the place, instantly cutting off the rising argument.
Yuki looked down both sides of the tridecagon layout, his gaze sharp.
“You two are wasting precious time. I didn’t invite you here to bicker,” He turned his head, focusing on the remaining standing silhouettes whose titles had not yet been revealed.
“The rest of you, sit down now. Let’s get these seats filled so we can actually begin explaining what this assembly is, and the reality we are all about to face.”
Yuki’s firm directive broke the final dam of hesitation.
Realizing that standing around was only drawing unnecessary scrutiny, the remaining four members took the cue.
One after another, the silhouettes pulled back their heavy leather chairs and sat down, their movements triggering a rapid-fire sequence of soft chimes as the place broadcast their identities above their heads.
Above the rigid, analytically poised silhouette, the crisp white letters materialized.
___
O5-6 Twilight
___
A beat later, the slender, strangely still silhouette settled into her seat, the text floating softly into view.
___
O5-10 The Savant Painter
___
Then, the serene silhouette glided gracefully into her chair.
___
O5-11 The Immortal Bride
___
Finally, the massive, broad-shouldered silhouette sank into his seat with an unshakeable, heavy thud.
The system finalized the council with a stark, menacing label.
___
O5-12 The Legendary Hitman
___
The sheer weight of the newly revealed designations hung heavily in the air, instantly reigniting a flurry of sharp murmurs and shifting postures around the table.
“My, my, what a terrifying neighborhood we’ve stumbled into,” the voice of O5-4, the Young Monster, cut through the tension.
Her slender silhouette leaned back into her leather chair, a low, thoroughly amused chuckle vibrating through her dark mask.
“A ‘Twilight’ hidden in the shadows and a ‘Legendary Hitman’ sitting down for dinner. I must say, O5-1, you certainly know how to curate a guest list. Those are some remarkably heavy names from the underbelly of the world.”
The knowing, calculated tone in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.
Directly to her right, the silhouette of O5-5, the Compulsive Gambler, leaned forward, her dark form trembling slightly with an erratic, ecstatic energy.
“Oh? You seem to know a thing or two about those titles, Onee-san,” she purred, her breathless voice dripping with intense curiosity.
“Tell me… what kind of fascinating secrets are you hiding behind that clever mouth of yours? Is there a juicy story there?”
O5-4 simply chuckled, tilting her head back carelessly.
“A good merchant never gives away valuable information for free, sweetie. Let’s just say some reputations precede them.”
“A spy, a painter, an immortal, and a hitman…?” O5-3, the Best Hacker, chimed in, shifting her weight arrogantly to break the budding conversation.
“Well, that’s remarkably violent. And what about a painter? What can you do, honey?”
O5-10, the Savant Painter, tilted her head to the side, her slender silhouette shifting with mechanical slowness.
“Paint?…” she responded, her voice completely monotone, flat, and detached from the tension dominating the rest of the tridecagon table.
It was an ethereal sound, as if she were speaking from inside a deep daydream.
But the true center of gravity in the room had shifted entirely to 05-11, the Immortal Bride.
“The Immortal Bride…” O5-9, the Pharmacologist, whispered.
The calm, weary respect he had managed to muster moments ago shattered instantly.
He slammed his hands back onto the obsidian table, leaning so far forward he was practically hanging over the edge.
His voice was raw, trembling, and utterly consumed by scientific fanaticism.
“Immortal? Are you really immortal?”
O5-11 turned her shrouded head slowly toward him.
Despite his intense, desperate interrogation, her posture remained entirely unbothered, projecting the quiet, unshakeable serenity of someone who had watched countless generations turn to dust.
“The mechanisms of my existence are not something that can be calculated by standard medicine, Pharmacologist,” O5-11 replied, her voice soft, beautiful, yet carrying an ancient depth.
“I have worn this veil for a very long time. Life and death are merely seasons to me. If your science seeks to replicate what I am, I am afraid you will only find a hollow wall.”
“A hollow wall?!” O5-9 choked out, his hands gripping his head in sheer, agonizing frustration.
“To have the literal cure for human mortality sitting right here and call it a hollow wall?!”
“There is no need to make such a scandalous scene, 05-9 Pharmacologist,” the soft, youthful voice of O5-13, the God of Wisdom, cut through the academic frenzy.
She leaned back casually, her petite silhouette tilting as she rested her hands over her cane.
“The universe is far grander and more terrifying than your textbooks suggest. There are actually quite a lot of different forms of immortality hiding in this world. And if our lovely friend here says it is impossible to scientifically prove hers, it simply means she has already tried that exact approach, and gained absolutely nothing out of it.”
O5-9 froze, his hands slowly dropping from his head as he processed her words.
But instead of calming down, a manic, dangerously brilliant spark seemed to snap inside his shrouded mind.
His posture grew even more frantic, his voice rising to an entirely new pitch of scientific euphoria.
“A lot of forms…?! You mean there are more?!” O5-9 gasped, his entire body shaking as he looked between the God of Wisdom and the Immortal Bride.
“Different mechanisms entirely?! If one defies biological stasis, does another rely on cellular reincarnation, or perhaps regeneration?! If science has gained nothing yet, it is only because we haven’t applied the correct quantum frameworks! Don’t you see?! This proves immortality isn’t a medical problem, it’s a verifiable cosmic law with multiple pathways! You must tell me what you know!”
“Oh my, you really are a hopeless, aren’t you?” O5-13 sighed, letting out a small, amused chuckle.
“I give you a philosophical warning, and you treat it like an open-bar buffet of forbidden knowledge.”
Yuki’s voice dropped like a heavy iron portcullis, slicing through the escalating academic chatter.
He didn’t just speak, he channeled the latent authority of the administrator, sending a subtle, low-frequency hum vibrating straight through the obsidian surface of the tridecagon table.
The abrupt weight of his presence commanded absolute silence, forcing both the Pharmacologist and the God of Wisdom to instantly hold their breath.
“This is not a medical convention,” Yuki said, his voice cold, steady, and utterly unyielding as he swept his eyes across the twelve dark silhouettes.
“We have indulged your curiosity long enough. The seats are filled. It is time to officially begin our first assembly.”
As the final word left his lips, the central obsidian surface of the 13-sided table suddenly flared with a bright, crystalline blue light, swallowing the ambient shadows as a massive holographic video began to materialize in the middle of the assembly.
***
Author’s note:
And that’s our lineup…
Good Luck guessing them…
hehe…