"The God is dead..."
For half a year, that bastard had tormented Luo Shu—shattering his peace, dragging him into endless chaos.
And now, he was finally dead.
Happiness had come too suddenly. Too unreal.
Doubting his own senses, Luo Shu took another drag from the Paraíso Cigar and dialed Waiter.
"Hey. I think... I just killed The Administrator."
"Are you sure?" Waiter's voice crackled with excitement.
"I don't know. It feels like a dream." Luo Shu's mind was still reeling. It had happened too fast—ended too fast.
Waiter paused. "Hold on. I'll have someone probe Site-17 to verify."
An hour later, crouched outside the cigar's containment unit, Luo Shu got his answer.
"Confirmed! Alpha 'Bandit' verified it—you actually did it!" Waiter's voice was electric. "He's rallying the three other exiled O5s to return to the Foundation!"
"Why?" Luo Shu frowned, taking another puff. Something felt off.
"He still has allies inside. Not everyone agreed with The God's methods—most just didn't dare speak up."
"So he's seizing power?"
Bandit's move was opportunistic, but understandable.
"Partly. But he's also pushing the O5 Council to clear your name. Starting today, you can walk in daylight again!"
Luo Shu exhaled smoke, relief washing over him. "How soon?"
A muffled conversation followed. Then:
"Bandit's convening an emergency O5 session. Your pardon will be official within half a day."
The Choice
With time to kill, Luo Shu cleared two more containment units—bagging four anomalies, pushing both his Discoverer and Namer milestones to Tier 2.
Now, two paths diverged:
Proceed to Viñales Valley—hunt SCP-3125.
Return to the New World—breathe free air for the first time in months.
Waiter's update made Option 2 tempting:
"All charges against you are dropped. The God's crimes are exposed. You're a hero now."
Plus, Viñales could wait. Guantánamo to Florida? Same distance as Viñales—but from there, the valley was just a few hundred kilometers away.
Decision made.
Pikachu morphed into ground-effect aircraft mode, screaming north toward Miami.
Mirage
Two hours later, Luo Shu touched down on Miami Beach at dusk.
The shore was alive—a rock concert thundered on a neon-lit stage, crowds of bikini-clad revelers dancing under palm trees.
No fear. No aftermath of the SMS-Meme apocalypse. Just laughter, music, freedom.
No one glared at him. No enemies.
He collapsed onto a lounge chair, cigar in hand, soaking it in—
Then they appeared.
SCP-166 (Gaia). Jianjia. IR1705. Even that forgettable logistics officer from Site-19.
A harem of stunning women materialized—massaging his shoulders, feeding him fruit, swaying to the music inches from his face.
The concert climaxed. The crowd roared.
Heaven.
But Luo Shu sighed.
"Wake up. Time to work."
He'd known for a while.
The cigar had burned for 12 hours without shortening.
The anomalies in Site-167? Too easy. No details stuck—what were their abilities? What did Tier 2 milestones unlock?
And Miami?
Bullshit.
The New World was crippled—100 million dead from the SMS-Meme. Martial law enforced by General Bowe's junta:
Mandatory 996 workweeks for all able-bodied citizens.
Entertainment banned.
Dissenters sentenced to forced labor.
No way this beach party was real.
The truth?
From the first puff, everything after had been an illusion.
The only problem: how to break free?
Now, with Anomaly Bane's 10% resistance and his own mounting skepticism, the spell weakened.
He stared at the cigar—still pristine—and crushed it between his fingers.
Reality
The beach shattered.
The music. The women. The God's pulped corpse.
Gone.
Luo Shu stood alone in Site-167's damp halls, the unburned Paraíso Cigar cold in his palm.
[New Understanding: Paraíso Cigar]
Effect: Projects the smoker's deepest desires as hyper-realistic hallucinations.
Trigger: Inhaling activates; extinguishing dispels.
Note: Likely harvested from SCP-████-infested tobacco. Prolonged use induces addiction to fabricated realities.
The God's death? A fantasy.
But the milestones? Real.
Luo Shu pocketed the cigar.
Time to find what else this site was hiding.