San Salvador Island, Bahamas
The sun had barely risen over San Salvador.
A quiet island.
A few thousand inhabitants.
Low houses, narrow roads, fields, fishing boats moored along the shore.
Everyone lived a normal, monotonous life. No one could have guessed that this was about to change.
At the edge of the beach, the water violently surged.
Something emerged—an immense reptilian creature that, at first glance, appeared to be rotting.
SCP-682 placed its claws on the sand, a look of disgust directed at the inhabitants of the island.
The first human scream rang out when a fisherman, frozen in place, dropped his net. He tried to flee and reach the streets, but he was shredded by 682 with ease.
682 continued and made sure to kill everyone who was fishing at sea or standing along the coast. It also destroyed the boats to prevent any unexpected escape.
682 eventually reached the streets and residential areas, each of its movements making the ground tremble.
People ran.
Some screamed.
Others stood petrified, unable to comprehend what they were seeing.
Drivers who tried to escape met their deaths inside their vehicles, crushed by 682.
Gunshots rang out.
Local police officers, weapons shaking, fired.
The bullets ricocheted.
Smashed against the bony plates.
Useless.
SCP-682 slowly turned its head toward them and swept the area with a single swing of its tail, sending officers and cars flying.
Some inhabitants barricaded themselves inside their homes to avoid the massacre, but 682, able to sense their presence, showed no mercy and killed them as well.
But 682 did not limit itself to human lives.
Animals were slaughtered indiscriminately.
Even trees were torn out and shattered.
Life, in all its forms, was a nuisance to 682.
It lifted its head. Its goal was to cause as many casualties as possible. Now that everyone present here was dead, it continued its march toward populated areas.
Discussion Group
Vox:
— Holy shit, he's really not holding back, that bastard, hahaha.
Baxter:
— The information stating that it harbors a deep hatred for life is truly not exaggerated. I would like to know where such anger comes from.
Lucifer:
— The situation has become truly critical. The portals created by 682 allow it to go wherever it wants.
Beelzebub:
— Seriously, how many abilities does this thing even have?
Alastor:
— Murmurs
Sera reconnected.
Émilie reconnected.
Michael reconnected.
Michael:
— Oh Father… how… Gabriel, why is SCP-682 still active? When we separated, you said you would handle it. If you needed help, you could have told me.
Gabriel:
— I'm sorry, my brother. 682 was under control, but Satan had to distract me.
The reason Michael, Sera, and Émilie disconnected was first to reassure and stop the hologram broadcast among human souls, to create dimensional barriers to prevent 682 from reaching Heaven, and also to pray for the death of their Virtue brothers.
Normally, when a pure angel dies, its soul is supposed to go to the Father's Matrix, a device created by God that restores the fallen pure angel.
Michael and Sera were certain that the fallen Virtues' souls were in the Matrix, but strangely, they did not reappear.
Azrael, being the one who saw the Father create this machine, said he would look into the issue.
Michael:
— Sigh… Fine. Even if it will be difficult, I will convince some of our Seraphim brothers to position themselves around the globe to intercept 682. For now, you must reach its position, and if you can contain it, do so.
Émilie:
— All these lives… we… I volunteer to—
Sera:
— No, Émilie. You are still too inexperienced. You will remain in Heaven.
Émilie:
— But I—
Sera, stern gaze.
Émilie:
— …Alright.
A white light materialized above San Salvador.
Gabriel appeared.
She scanned the area, searching for 682.
Below, SCP-682 raised its head.
It immediately sensed the danger and chose to retreat. It opened its jaws…
and bit into space itself.
Reality tore apart.
It knew that doing this would immediately alert the "pigeon" in the sky, so it manifested an illusion: a fake SCP-682, wounded, crawling, exposed.
Gabriel slightly turned her head.
— …Do you really take me for an idiot?
She was no longer looking at the illusion.
Her eyes were fixed on the real distortion—subtle, almost invisible.
She extended her hand.
Space snapped shut violently.
SCP-682 did not have time to pass through completely. Part of its body was severed as the portal closed.
Gabriel stared blankly at the bodies of 682's victims, clenching her fist.
Amazon Rainforest – Uncharted Zone
The fall was brutal.
The spatial rift snapped shut behind SCP-682 with a sharp crash.
Trees that were centuries old were crushed instantly.
The ground exploded on impact.
A shockwave spread outward, sending birds, insects, and animals flying.
SCP-682 slowly rose to its feet.
Its body still bore the marks of the portal's closure:
torn plates, smoking flesh. It was extremely irritated by the situation.
It barely had time to do anything before it immediately sensed the presence of the pigeon it had just fled from.
Gabriel was watching it, smiling in the air.
— Yo!
682 was certain she had not followed it through the portal. If she had teleported or created her own portal, it would have felt a spatial distortion. But there was nothing.
It began to consider that she might have come here by flying…
She's really fast!
Gabriel:
— Stop staring at me like that, you're scaring me.
SCP-682 answered with a deep growl.
— I'm tired… of running.
It attacked.
It concentrated all its mass, all its hatred, all its destructive will into a single movement.
The space around it bent under the pressure of its body. It leapt, trying to reach the insolent pigeon.
Gabriel did not step back.
— Stop.
682's movement came to an abrupt halt, as if the very concept of "attack" had been suspended. Its charge shattered into thousands of unfinished intentions. Its muscles screamed, its adaptive structures searched for a solution.
Obviously, Gabriel did not give it time to evolve.
Gabriel raised her hand.
— Let's continue our discussion somewhere rather… special. smiles
She did not teleport SCP-682 in a conventional way.
She removed it.
SCP-682 was projected beyond the observable universe.
Beyond time.
Beyond causality.
It entered the Omni-Space.
There was neither void, nor matter, nor energy in any known sense.
The fundamental laws were not stable: they were born, died, and contradicted each other simultaneously.
Infinite layers of reality overlapped without ever touching.
Conceptual forms drifted through it:
embryos of worlds, blueprints of possible lives, ideas of creation never realized.
This was not Gabriel's pocket dimension—she could not have created something of such magnitude.
This reality had been created by GOD.
Why, you might ask?
Because only GOD is perfect in everything He does, and He knew it—He alone was perfect.
The angels, however, were imperfect, especially when it came to creation. They could not properly create life or even concepts.
Thus, the Omni-Space became their training ground, a place to learn how to create the observable universe and life on Earth, with GOD's help.
SCP-682 immediately sensed the danger of this place and tried to adapt to this reality.
It succeeded—then the law it had just integrated ceased to exist.
It succeeded again.
Then that adaptation entered into contradiction with another layer of reality.
— Why are the local laws of this reality so chaotic?
Its organism was evolving…
…but every evolution pushed it further away from any form of stability.
SCP-682 roared and tried to bite space itself.
Gabriel spoke.
— Your mouth closes.
682's jaw slammed shut violently on itself. Bones cracked, shattered, regenerated… only to snap shut again, even harder, as if reality refused to allow the described action to exist in any other way.
It tried to strike.
— Your arm gives out.
Its limb dislocated at a conceptual level. Not a physical injury—the very idea of a "functional arm" was denied. Its adaptation tried to reconstruct something else.
Gabriel watched 682's abilities with fascination. She was certain that, sooner or later, 682 would evolve and perfectly adapt to the chaotic environment of the Omni-Space, and could even become a problem for her.
But the reason she had not imposed the concept of stagnation was to humiliate 682 and make it suffer—because she still remembered the massacre it had carried out on Earth, and it filled her with rage.
Gabriel took a step forward.
— You fall.
And SCP-682 fell.
It passed through layers of reality where its body was too dense, then not dense enough, then nonexistent, then too real. Each fall crushed it, recomposed it, tore it apart again.
It adapted.
But every adaptation was immediately invalidated by a new state of reality.
Despite everything…
Its body eventually developed a structure capable of surviving in the Omni-Space.
It had acquired new structures, even more complex and incredible.
It raised its head and charged at Gabriel.
A titanic mass, condensed with pure hatred and absolute destructive instinct, tore through space.
But Gabriel… disappeared instantly.
She was moving at a speed that could not be measured.
Her voice echoed behind it.
— "Too slow."
She spoke yet another word, much to 682's fury.
— "Dislocation."
682's torso exploded into billions of fragments, scattering throughout the Omni-Space.
It regenerated.
Faster than ever. It was gradually becoming stronger and stronger, and it tried something new.
It too had finally learned to master that irritating ability.
"SLASH…"
A crack appeared in Gabriel's aura.
A line of black light crossed her shoulder.
She… had been hit.
She immediately stepped back and looked at the extent of the damage.
After that, she regenerated.
— Honestly, if it weren't because of the Foundation… I would have already erased your existence. You are far too dangerous a being.
Author's Note
This is a small parenthesis I would like to make regarding religion.
If some of you do not want to read it, that is fine.
But for those who do:
I invite you to pray, because with the direction the world is going, it is frightening.
If you are atheist, I will not force you to become Christian—just pray. Prayer is, above all, speaking to GOD. Religion is first and foremost about developing your relationship with GOD. You will not go to Heaven with your friends; religion is something personal.
It reassures me, even if your religion is Islam, because overall we pray to the same ONE GOD—of love, forgiveness, and mercy, but who can also be severe. So I invite them to pray as well.
Maybe GOD does not exist. Maybe after death there is nothing.
But I choose to believe in His existence, and I do.
Amen.
The next chapter will be done tomorrow.