By the time Luo Shu returned to the eastern coast of the New World, dawn had already broken over Paris.
The police had cordoned off the area around the Eiffel Tower and the Grenelle Bridge—thousands of corpses littered the scene.
Most were concentrated inside a shopping mall and on the tower's upper stairwell.
Their deaths were bizarre. Though they had died suddenly, their faces bore no trace of pain—only beatific smiles, like martyrs.
It was unnerving.
Even worse were the hundreds who had fallen from the tower's heights, their bodies shattered on the ground below.
But this was only the surface-level horror.
To the SCP Foundation personnel on-site—a Mobile Task Force from Site-06-3 and a team of researchers—the truth was far more terrifying.
One researcher muttered, "This has to be the work of a powerful cognitohazard."
Another nodded. "Judging by the spread, it started in the clothing store before moving toward the Eiffel Tower. The victims were chasing something—but surveillance footage shows nothing."
An older researcher shook his head. "This isn't just a cognitohazard. Ordinary mental hazards don't cause this. I suspect it's a meme—like the text-meme incident. Keter-class."
The MTF commander frowned. "Then why did it stop?"
His greatest fear was that the anomaly hadn't dissipated—just gone dormant.
But he was overthinking it.
"God" would never waste a meme of this caliber on ordinary people.
And right now, "God" himself stood atop the Eiffel Tower, the remnants of a spatial rift fading behind him.
His expression was dark.
Luo Shu had escaped again.
A hundred thousand people, and they couldn't trap or kill him!
Though the Spear of Longinus meme wasn't defeated, the frustration of near-success gnawed at him.
Worse, he didn't even know how Luo Shu had done it.
The only clue was the brief spike in Luo Shu's Hume levels—Tier 4 peak reality bender—before he vanished from satellite tracking.
At the time, "God" had assumed Luo Shu was dead. He'd even celebrated with a drink.
But now, as Foundation personnel combed through the bodies, Luo Shu's was nowhere to be found.
If only I'd come here immediately last night.
Too late for regrets.
All he could do was wait for the next opportunity.
"God" refused to believe Luo Shu would hide forever. If he did, the "Revealer of Truth" would be neutered—no longer a threat.
But if Luo Shu acted again, if he drew another crowd—then "God" would learn his secret.
And once he did, he would break it.
With that resolve, "God" stepped back into the spatial rift, leaving Paris behind.
Meanwhile, Luo Shu had reached the outskirts of SCP-100.
The anomaly was housed in a rural landfill in South Carolina—already remote, and further secured by Foundation checkpoints.
Ordinary people couldn't get within a kilometer of it.
All Luo Shu had to do was convert the guards, and the path would be clear.
SCP-100 would remain his sanctuary.
In his unobservable state, he slipped past the perimeter and headed straight for the Foundation's on-site office—a prefab hut.
Inside, he found the security team's leader and activated Persuasion.
"Gather everyone. The O5 Council has an urgent announcement."
Within minutes, the entire shift stood assembled outside.
Then, Luo Shu unleashed the Prophet's Power.
The results were shocking.
They folded instantly.
A single use of the ability, and every last one knelt in submission.
In hindsight, it made sense.
The Foundation recruited for loyalty and obedience, not faith.
Though most American agents were nominally religious, few were devout.
And after years of witnessing anomalies—with no divine intervention in sight—their belief had eroded to mere lip service.
Against the Prophet's Power, their resistance relied solely on willpower.
And while the Foundation had plenty of strong-willed individuals, none were stationed here.
SCP-100 wasn't a cognitohazard. It was just a living machine.
This site needed firepower, not mental fortitude.
In half an hour, the entire security team had been converted.
But the job wasn't done.
The security detail worked in three rotating shifts, with a fourth on standby.
Luo Shu had only handled one.
The next shift would arrive by evening, followed by the night team.
He ordered his new followers to gather all newcomers for "sermons" before allowing them near SCP-100.
With that settled, Luo Shu finally headed for the anomaly itself.
Dropping his unobservability, he drove openly to the entrance—where Aeolus stood waiting.
The moment Aeolus saw the stunningly beautiful girl trailing Luo Shu, his eyebrows shot up.
A subtle jerk of his chin toward the facility said it all:
Good luck explaining this to Jianxia. She waited up all night for you.
Luo Shu grimaced.
Before he could think of an excuse, rapid footsteps echoed from the warehouse.
Jianxia.
She'd rushed out the moment she heard of his return.
She'd waited all night.
She'd even prepared a home-cooked breakfast—the culmination of a month's practice.
(Aeolus had suffered as her taste-tester.)
Now, her skills were perfected. No more culinary disasters.
She'd long forgotten her past as Achilles' Heel Omega-12-C-032.
All she wanted was to be a happy little cook in this underground home.
To always have a warm meal waiting when Luo Shu returned.
That was what family meant.
As the footsteps drew near, Luo Shu knew what to do.
No explanations. Just an embrace.
He spread his arms, ready.
The next second, Jianxia rounded the corner.
Her eyes met his—filled with lingering affection.
Then—
She collapsed.
At the same moment, a Spear of Longinus stabbed into Luo Shu's mind.
Jianxia was a believer.