It took months—painstaking, careful, exhausting months—but we finally secured SCP‑006.
The spring itself was hidden deep within a fortified underground facility, guarded by the most loyal soldiers, the most advanced containment methods we could engineer with Flash Forge, and a network of traps, false leads, and coded misinformation. Even a single slip could have alerted the wrong people.
When it was finally fully secured, I tested it first. One sip of the crystalline water, and the subtle yet undeniable sense of renewal coursed through me. My body felt lighter, my mind sharper. And then it hit me—this wasn't just strength or vitality. It was ageless immortality. My cells would heal. My youth would preserve. Time would no longer claim me.
The implications made my chest tighten. SCP‑006 wasn't just valuable. It was priceless. And dangerous beyond words.
I glanced around the command room at the other O5s. Each of them had taken the same sip. They were silent, staring at their hands, feeling the slow, incredible truth settle in.
We had become effectively immortal. Or at least… ageless.
I let myself savor the moment for a heartbeat. Then I refocused. The world didn't wait.
Now came the real challenge.
We began building bases across the world. Secret bases, hidden away from the prying eyes of kings, emperors, and inquisitive wanderers. In this medieval era, unlike the modern era of satellites, cameras, phones, and networks, our work was… easier in some ways.
No one could remotely detect our movements. No one could track shipments across oceans with a blinking light. No one could intercept emails or uncover our plans through social media.
But that also came with a cost.
Transporting resources—stone, metal, skilled workers, weaponry, or supplies—was slow and arduous. Caravans were vulnerable to bandits, rough terrain, and weather. Sea transport was equally unpredictable, and without proper timing, months of planning could unravel in a single storm.
Still, there was a silver lining.
Without modern detection systems, our secrecy was almost perfect. Each base could operate independently, hidden under the guise of monasteries, fortresses, or abandoned castles. No one would know what we were building, and if rumors did spread, they would be dismissed as legends or myths.
I tapped my fingers on the command table, tracing the network of bases we had already mapped. Europe, Asia, Africa… even the Americas had been tentatively scouted. Each location would eventually host secure containment units, research labs, and military barracks. The O5 Council worked tirelessly, each of us overseeing our respective specialties: Julius with security, Darius with intelligence, Sun Tzu with military logistics, Cleopatra with financing, and myself managing technology and research.
Despite the challenges, progress was swift. Medieval travel was slow, but it was also discreet. And that discretion was priceless.
I allowed myself a small smirk. Centuries of history had been kind to us this time. The God who had reincarnated us might be watching—and might even be bored—but for now, the world was ours to shape.
And we were building a foundation that no king, empire, or cosmic being would ever see coming.