> "He thrust the dagger into my lower abdomen, tearing and stirring..."
As Researcher Talloran leered at me, saliva and blood dripped from his grotesque mouth onto my cheek, and all the deformed monsters watched with smugness.
I woke up. It was just a dream.
A dream?
These three short words seemed to deny all of Leon Lake's previous speculation.
But by now, Grace Harper was no longer the naive rookie from the beginning.
She had formed her own judgment.
"If that was just a dream..." Grace murmured, "Then three hundred years is far too long."
> This is where you join me. I'm sitting here, writing this. I have to. It feels good. It's been two days since the nightmare began, and I've just finished. This is the end. This is the resurrection of all things. I don't know if I can continue from here, I don't know if I want to.
> The Eleven-Day Empire melted me, and I succumbed. From the moment I joined the Foundation, I had already succumbed.
At this point, if not for everything that had come before, the viewers might have believed it.
But now, everyone knew—
Talloran would never surrender.
Sure enough, at the end of the text, two contradictory lines appeared:
> SCP-3999 has achieved [victory].
SCP-3999 has [failed].
Seeing this, everyone—who had once worn heavy, complicated expressions—now smiled knowingly.
These were the scars of Talloran's war with SCP-3999.
Talloran never gave up.
The supervisor held the document in one hand and rubbed its surface with the other, as if lost in thought.
"Hey, there's one last part..." Grace pointed at the file.
Everyone turned toward her voice—and sure enough, after a long blank section, ten lines remained:
> I hate myself.
I love myself.
The moment these words appeared, some viewers burst into tears.
Apparently, after neutralizing SCP-3999...
Researcher Talloran's own life also came to a close.
Leon Lake held back the tangle of emotions inside. He needed to piece together the final parts of this tragedy.
"There's still something missing," he said firmly.
"So," he continued aloud, "SCP-3999 was once a Keter-class object—Object #193, most likely some kind of entity. As of now, the full extent of its anomalous properties remains unclear."
As he spoke, he turned to the supervisor with questioning eyes.
The supervisor nodded, confirming: "SCP-3999's containment chamber was discovered during a routine inspection at Site-18. According to the InfoSec Division, no record of SCP-3999 existed in any of our databases."
She paused, thinking hard, then added:
"The four armed guards stationed there suffered acute amnesia. None of them could explain how they came to be assigned to SCP-3999."
As more memories returned to her, additional facts emerged:
"We also found the body of a Level 3 researcher—positively identified as James Martin Talloran—at the base of the containment chamber. He had gone missing almost immediately after his assignment to Site-18."
Another project lead chimed in: "We found a standard Foundation-issued phone on his body. It contained what appeared to be containment procedures for SCP-3999—but the format was inconsistent, riddled with strange errors and unlike anything we use."
Everyone instinctively turned their eyes toward the file in Leon Lake's hands.
By now, he had connected every piece of the puzzle in his mind.
He had found the answer.
"Researcher Talloran was assigned to SCP-3999, which possesses powerful reality-altering capabilities," Leon said clearly.
The entire room focused on him.
Holding the file tightly, Leon spoke as if delivering a historical record:
"Sometime after his assignment, SCP-3999 breached containment, triggering a CK-class reality restructuring event—or worse, a ZK-class end-of-reality scenario. But somehow, SCP-3999 and Talloran merged—sharing a single body. Yet it couldn't overpower his will."
This was the beginning of the nightmare.
Leon exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. "In an effort to subdue Talloran's spirit, SCP-3999 created endless methods of torture—physical, psychological, and metaphysical—repeating the cycle millions of times over."
He continued, his voice steady despite the weight of the story.
"After a million years, SCP-3999 realized it couldn't fully suppress Talloran's consciousness. But Talloran, in turn, learned how to use SCP-3999's reality-warping power against it. So began the eternal war—one man versus one anomaly."
That was the counterattack.
"SCP-3999 tried to declare itself omnipotent—immortal, uncontainable—but Talloran fought back. Again and again, he stripped away those properties, undermining its strength with every cycle."
Now the truth dawned on the viewers—why his loved ones kept reappearing, why reality kept resetting.
This was SCP-3999's power at work.
"Again and again," Leon said, "torture, reset, torture...until Talloran found the one solution."
A hush fell across the room.
"Talloran defined it. He gave SCP-3999 an identity."
"But in the end," Leon continued solemnly, "none of it was enough. Every attempt failed."
The air seemed to freeze.
"Eventually," Leon concluded, "Talloran chose to annihilate himself—body, soul, everything—and by doing so, destroyed SCP-3999 too."
He took a breath.
"In summary: SCP-3999 was the evil will of a supreme deity—and it was neutralized by Researcher Talloran."
He paused. Then delivered the final tribute:
"Salute to the fallen."
Silence.
Then, slowly, person by person, they stood.
"Salute to the fallen!"
The chant spread like wildfire.
Marvel's entire world was swept up in emotion—shock, awe, grief, pride.
A surge of comments lit up the live stream:
> "Oh my god! Talloran is a god!"
"Don't call him a god! He was a man—and he beat a god!"
"He fought for three million years. No divine title could define him."
"A supreme being twisted reality. And he still lost."
---
Kamar-Taj.
The Ancient One stood silent in deep reflection.
Was she wrong to seek strength in external forces?
---
Asgard.
"Supreme deity?" Loki murmured, shaken. "Then what kind of god am I?"
For the first time, doubt entered his divine heart.
---
Deep Space – The Observer Dimension.
"Destroyed by a mortal?" Uatu was stunned.
Even to an eternal observer, the idea was absurd.
But it was true.
Talloran endured three million years.
And triumphed.
---
S.H.I.E.L.D.
Everyone was silent. Their hearts full, their throats tight.
Natasha Romanoff whispered, "Talloran is a hero."
"A forgotten hero," she added.
The screen dimmed.
The Mobile Task Force vanished. The O5 Council receded.
Only Leon, Grace, and Lois remained.
Lois rubbed his arm. "We really solved the SCP-3999 file?"
Grace rolled her eyes. "Leon did."
Lois slapped Leon's shoulder. "We're a team, Trident!"
Grace chuckled softly—then sighed. "Too bad no one will ever know this story..."
"No," Leon replied firmly.
"He is a memory. A strength beyond imagination. A warrior. He will not die in darkness—he will rise in light."
---
Suddenly, Dr. Kondraki barged in.
"Damn it, you three are still here?" he barked, snatching Lois's beer.
Gulp. Hiccup.
"It's beer," he scoffed. "You, Lake! Causing trouble even on vacation!"
Leon smirked.
"This isn't over," Kondraki continued. "This is just the beginning! You have no idea how many reports I have to file!"
Grace giggled. Kondraki glared at her.
"And you! You're reassigned. You'll report to Dr. [DATA EXPUNGED]!"
Grace groaned. "I wanted to study SCP-408."
"No chance! That's my baby. Nobody touches 408 unless I'm dead!"
Ignoring her protests, he turned back to Leon.
"Congratulations. Your clearance is now Level 4. You can access anything."
Leon grinned. "Even the project I asked about?"
"Yes. Even that one."