Foundation: I am recruiting crickets from all dimensions to fight

Do not,

Precisely,

The guy still felt a little regretful because he couldn't feel fear from Feng Bujue.

But that's enough.

At the end of a sweet burst of warning, the creature sliced ​​Crazy in half, killing him instantly before he could utter a syllable of warning to Adam.

Adam heard nothing.

There was a fuzzy click, followed by a busy 3.7 sound.

He hung up the phone.

See here,

The audience in the Zhutian chat group suddenly fell into silence.

Countless viewers stared at the screen in a daze.

Looking at the figure that ended everything,

Then there was an uproar.

"Fuck! How did this guy get here?"

"So, he killed Feng Bujue directly?"

"Oh my god, that's the noosphere. Could it be that SCP-3125 has even merged into the noosphere?"

"The only operator is dead? Doesn't that mean the mission has failed?"

Sherlock Holmes Universe.

Watson asked the same question.

"No!"

Holmes stared at the screen, and the scenes involving Wheeler and Adam kept replaying in his mind.

An inexplicable emotion was stirring in his chest.

It made his heart beat stronger and hotter!

That's hope.

So he said,

"it's not finished yet!"

The day-night cycle is gone.

But the earth keeps spinning.

Adam had no idea what this proved, based on reflex alone.

I wonder if the sun and moon still exist, or if there are any celestial bodies other than the red and black eye socket on the horizon.

The giant eye never moves.

It cast a long, terrifying shadow, bright enough to blind Adam.

Despite the physical signs, he didn't feel like he was walking on the real Earth, or really awake.

He felt like an ant crawling on the face of a rough beast.

Climb in and out of runes chiseled into the beast's face, runes from an unstoppable apocalyptic myth.

He felt as if the whole world was falling eternally under his feet, as if he and the world were plunging into some abyss.

Chapter 102 Wheeler Ascension! The concept of the Foundation itself, SCP

There is no worse scenario than what is happening now.

There is no race against time;

There is no time crunch;

There was no life-threatening moment. The moment of life-threatening moment had passed several years ago.

There is nothing to avoid.

This is the final situation.

The highest and most condensed form of human civilization.

This is the shape it will take for the next million or so years.

But none of this has anything to do with Adam.

Because he has arrived at Site-167.

No one could imagine how Adam got through this hellish world.

This task, which was originally supposed to be completed by the operator, finally fell on him.

He wants to be an ordinary person.

To fight a monster that even the Foundation cannot defeat.

This is somewhat ironic.

Especially after arriving at Site 167, he couldn't help but complain.

Because Site 167 is nothing more than a hostile, sprawling industrial wasteland.

Four square kilometres of secure containment warehouses, research labs and administrative offices.

These buildings are sinister, utilitarian, and rarely seen as aggressive;

There is no greenery.

The ambient sound in the building is a rough roar - it is built on a flat field, and the wind rushes into the concrete canyons and passes through the sharp edges of the building.

More than half of the site, Adam discovered, had been wiped off the face of the Earth by an orbital laser strike.

There is a border here, where the intact buildings and roads come to an abrupt end.

Beyond the borders lay only charred, flat ruins.

Fortunately, the result was harmless because what he was looking for was underground.

Adam was reaching his limit.

He had traveled too far and too long.

He can no longer exist — sanely — in SCP-3125's universe.

It's still happening, and I'm the only one alive who can stop it.

This fragile responsibility was like a tightening vise around his head.

He was exhausted, his vision gradually degenerating into a bright migraine, dull and lonely.

No more detective work, no more stops.

There has to be a break.

Between Building 8 and 22E, there is a vertical entrance, a thirty-meter-wide hexagonal shaft, with a yellow crane spanning its entrance.

Vertical shafts were originally used to transport construction machinery and materials down to the vast underground complex.

It was so wide and deep that the flow of air near its edges was strangely affected.

The interior walls of the shaft were lined with metal steps.

The airlock of Containment Unit S25167-00-6183 is identical to the one at Site 41, as shown in the architectural diagram.

The only difference is that this airtight door still looks airtight - there is no hole.

Adam swiped his access card through the reader with a shaking hand.

The door swung open, revealing a sterile white antechamber, the air completely stagnant after years of disuse.

He stood in the center, waiting for the second spin.

That's it.

His heart was pounding.

The audience in the chat group also subconsciously held their breath.

Marvel Universe.

SHIELD.

The agents stared at the light screen intently.

Even Nick Fury secretly clenched his fists.

There was a complex emotion in his heart.

He asked himself that final horrible question, for the last time.

"But if you are here, Hughes, and you have built the machine, and it works: why don't you show up?"

He never wanted to be in a situation where his hopes were dashed again.

It's not that he can't bear it, but the man in the picture is what the Antimemetics Division can no longer bear.

Nick Fury asked and answered his own questions, as if inoculating himself against the bad news he knew was coming:

"Because the machine is useless. Because you can't build it. Because you're dead."

at this time,

The inner door swings open.

The air in the basement was tropical and humid, and thick enough to be tasted.

It tasted unpleasantly organic, like lymph or some other blocked bodily fluid.

There were floodlights overhead, and perhaps one in ten of them was still on.

Garbage is everywhere.

To Adam's left, there was a huge semicircular automated factory unit, each more than six meters high, surrounded by piles of construction waste:

Furniture, tools, food cans, hard foam bricks, circuit boards, pieces of fabric.

Stacked to his right, stretching all the way along the concave wall of the basement, were hundreds of empty shipping containers.

He walked for ten minutes before he found one that still contained raw materials.

In front of him was a three-meter-high steel wall.

It bends to the left and right, covering almost the entire floor space of the basement.

Just visible from the top of the wall was a huge sleeping creature, slowly rising and falling in the dim yellow light.

From here, all people can see is the curve of its back.

It was a smooth, wet black, dotted with green.

It's round, basically a ball.

Like taking a scoop of liver ice cream from a 2,000-meter-tall man.

Then poured into this huge petri dish

silence!

Deathly silence spread in the chat group.

Even through the light curtain,

All the audience can also feel the visual impact brought by that guy.

then,

The entire chat group was in an uproar.

"Oh my god what the hell is this?"

"Is this also a distorted product of SCP-3125's advent?"