“History is not written by the victors, but by those with money.”
—Rodrigo Torres, As quoted in "The Generations of Paqueon Literature" directed Joel Bevan, distributed by the Correo Hidalgo (1989)
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15:31 WT, 14th of February, 1639 (14th of Memesa, 1995)
CEO’s Office, Hlûtewell Complex, Venburg District, Oxburg, Notland, Aialand, Neragon
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Angus Blair stared at the e-mail displayed on his computer. The timestamp at the corner of the screen stood at 3:31 PM, reminding him of the march of time which did not care for the slow death of the conglomerate.
When the displacement had occurred, Hlûtewell had been effectively cut off from its assets and revenues from abroad. Of the corporation's 68 subsidiaries (excluding joint ventures), only 24 remained operational, 7 of which were barely keeping afloat.
Angus would not be surprised if he is destined to be remembered as the last CEO to ever grace the helm of the once-mighty tech giant.
He sighed and stood up from his leather desk chair, picking up his mug of stale coffee from the coaster beside his computer.
He peered out of the expansive window that overlooked the sprawling Oxburg cityscape. The afternoon sun submerging the white-and-orange apartment blocks below in a harsh pale.
Angus took a sip of the tepid coffee before realising it was almost empty. He frowned momentarily before deciding he had to refill his mug. He never liked having a personal coffee machine – unlike his predecessor, preferring to get it from the break room a few doors down the hallway outside where he could interact with his employees more casually.
His mind made up, Angus made to leave his office and was just in front of his dark wooden door before a knock interrupted his thoughts. He paused, quashing his irritation at the interruption and stepped back from the door. "Come in," he said with an invisible sigh.
The door creaked open, revealing his assistant, Jennifer peeking her head inside. "Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Blair,'' the blonde woman said quickly. "There's someone from the government here to see you."
Angus straightened up. "Ah? Thank you. Please show him in."
Jennifer nodded and stepped back out of the doorway. Angus walked back to his desk, smoothing out his suit jacket as he waited for his visitor.
A few moments later, Jennifer reappeared, followed by a tall, ageing man built like a crane.
The man's expression brightened when he saw Angus, and he extended his hand in greeting once he arrived in front of Angus's desk. "Chairman Blair, pleasure to meet you. Thomas Harding, Ministry of Commerce." He said in a baritone voice that did not quite match his frame. Angus had expected a more high-pitched voice.
Angus stood up and shook Harding's hand firmly. "Mr. Harding, the pleasure is mine – please have a seat." He gestured to the slender chair across from his desk.
Harding took a seat and did not waste time launching into the purpose of his visit. "Chairman Blair, I'm here to discuss the government's new initiative to expand our technology into the new world.”
Angus's interest was piqued, he clasped his hands together, almost leaning forward in excitement. "Go on, Mr. Harding. I'm listening."
Harding nodded. "Well, I'm sure you know what'as been happening recently. Negotiations with Arem and the upcoming one with the Milishials or whatever they're called. We wish to engage in technological transfer with these new worlders and we're talking with the Aremics about this." He paused. "We wish for corporations like Hlûtewell to lead the charge of this – expand into a new market and all that."
Angus's head was spinning. The notion of expanding Hlûtewell's reach into a completely new world and revitalising the corporation was both fortunate and daunting. "This is certainly... an interesting proposition, Mr. Harding," Angus replied quickly, trying to hide his excitement. "I'm honoured that the government would consider Hlûtewell for a pivotal role."
(The ministry was giving this proposal to numerous other companies but Thomas was not going say that.)
Harding merely smiled. "I'm glad you think that way, Chairman Blair. I would love to tell you more about the specifics, but I'm not at liberty to disclose all the details at the moment. Rest assured the government will provide full support and resources to facilitate this endeavour once the deal has been finalised."
He got up and Angus rose from his seat as well. Harding extended his hand once again to which Angus shook. "I will take my leave now – report back to my superiors. Expect an e-mail in the near future."
"Thank you, Mr. Harding." Angus barely said calmly. "I look forward to hearing from the government soon."
With that, Thomas Harding exited the CEO's office, escorted by Jennifer, Leaving Angus to his thoughts.
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9:27 JST (Japan Standard Time) (6:27 WT), 22nd of February, 1639 (22nd of Memesa, 1995)
Somewhere near Haneda Airport, Ōta, Tokyo, Japan
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The pilot frowned at his radio as an unintelligible voice streamed out of it. It sounded vaguely like Horpongo – and maybe it was.
He looked at his co-pilot. "Get our translator here immediately."
The co-pilot nodded and swiftly stood up from his seat making his way out of the cockpit. After a while, he returned with the translator in tow, one Issac Yamaji an agent that was once a displaced man hailing from a version of 'Japan' which was made the 62nd state of an empire called America.
The man was built like a twig, his frame barely filling out the crisp uniform he wore. But his black eyes held a sharpness that belied his appearance.
"You needed me, Steven?"
"Yes," the pilot – Steven – answered alternating looks at the radio and the sky outside the cockpit window. "We have entered the range in which we can stably communicate with the ground control of Japan, we need you to speak to them."
Issac nodded tightly, taut wrinkles forming at the edge of his lips.
The co-pilot handed him a spare headset and Issac quickly adjusted it over his ears. He took a deep breath, his cheeks puffing out slightly before he exhaled slowly.
"Alright, patch me through."
Steven pressed something on the radio and Issac leaned in, despite his microphone headset's capability to pick up his voice clearly.
"This is NE43AAL requesting permission to land at th— Haneda Airport. Do you copy?" Issac spoke in a slightly accented Japanese.
There was a brief pause. "This is Haneda Airport Control. Please state your purpose of visit."
"We are a diplomatic mission from the... establishment known as the Union of Realms Organisation for the Containment of Magical Anomalies. We are here to initiate contact with the government of Japan," Issac replied, reciting a script he had prepared for himself.
Another pause followed, this time much longer than the last one. The co-pilot looked as if he had been straining to understand what had been said.
A clear voice broke through their headset speakers once more after a rather unreasonable amount of time. "We acknowledge your request NE43AAL. You are clear to land at Runway 34L."
Isaac's shoulders visibly relaxed. "Thank you, Haneda Airport Control. NE43AAL out."
He told Steven about the clearance to land and the pilot nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Issac."
And the translator gave his headset back to the co-pilot and moved out the of cockpit.
As the aircraft tilted down towards the runway, Issac felt a queasy lurch within his stomach. Sure, it was not 'his Japan' they were entering, but the familiarity of the Tokyo cityscape and the view of Mount Fuji in the distance still stirred ancient feelings within him.
As the next few minutes passed unbearably for Issac. Eventually, the aircraft docked at a gate and Isaac along with five other VROEMG members descended a self-transfigurating stairway onto the tarmac apron.
The frigid morning air greeted them, causing Isaac to shiver slightly. It was times like these when he wished he had learned magic.
Issac could spot four airport employees scuttling their way from the main terminal towards their aircraft.
The airport was quiet and lifeless, most likely due to this Japan's displacement. The members of VROEMG made their way towards the Japanese employees, who were clad in their uniforms, and approached them with a mix of curiosity and wariness evident in their expressions.
Issac stepped forward, his posture straightening. "Excuse me," he said in Japanese, "we are... representatives from the Union of Realms Organisation for the Containment of Magical Anomalies. We seek to establish diplomatic contact with the government of Japan."
The four Japanese employees looked amongst themselves and one balding man in a simple white suit murmured something in rapid-fire to another colleague. Then, the man, who Isaac now noticed had had a badge that read "Airport Operations Supervisor," stepped forward cautiously.
"Greetings, representatives of the... uh... Union of Realms Organisation," the Airport Operations Supervisor greeted politely yet stiffly. "Welcome to Japan. Please, follow me. We will escort you to the designated area where you can wait for the appropriate authorities."
Issac nodded with a respectful "Thank you."
And he relayed the message to his team.
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16:28 AST (15:58 WT), 1st of March, 1639 (1st of Marto, 1995)
Orpaz District, Arem City, Arem
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A partially transparent A-03 – also known as the Mirager – raced through the shadow-covered alleyways, taking up the illusion of a researcher whose name escapes him as he stopped at a pipe that led up to the top of one of the particular buildings in the deserted alley.
But before he could grab onto the pipe to climb, his transceiver buzzed as a voice crackled through the device "Mirager, this is Captain Riviere. Do you copy, over." came a neutral voice over the transceiver.
A-03 paused, a false hand hovering inches away from the metal of the pipe. With a swift motion, he levitated the communication device out of where his shoulder was and responded, "This is A-03 Mirager I copy. Over."
"I-01 is moving towards the Matennel Plaza, continue your task, the rest of the team is en route. Over."
"Copy that, Captain. Over." Mirager replied, as he released the transceiver, causing it to float back into his chest.
He grabbed the pipe and pulled himself with ease onto a ledge on the side of the building, and repeated the process until he reached the flat rooftop.
He surveyed his surroundings, there was a taller building nearby that offered a better advantage point. So, Mirager quickly leapt across the gap between buildings and pulled himself up onto the other rooftop.
Arem City did not have many tall buildings, but the one Mirager now stood on top offered quite a view of the surrounding areas.
Despite contact with Neragon starting barely 3 weeks ago, Neragese goods had already begun to infiltrate the lives of the people of Arem. Mirager saw a man riding a scooter that looked too modern in design to be a native creation breezing along the sidewalk below as he tried to find where Matennel Plaza was located.
And there besides the Classical style building lay the Plaza with its distinctive statue of a knight with a golden halberd.
Mirager focused his magic on the plaza, letting it fall like a large cloak onto the area. He pushed a bit of his consciousness into the area, and a vision formed as if he was seeing from the perspective of the statue of the knight.
He tried to sense where I-01 and its host might be lurking but they did not seem to have arrived yet.
There were two paths its host might use: the road where shops bustled with activity or the slightly quieter pedestrian-only lane left of the road, divided by a small apartment block.
He pulled back his consciousness and enlarged his area of magic, extending it to cover both paths. If he was human, Mirager was sure he would've been sweating profusely from the mental strain. He clamped down on the magic, ensuring it remained stable and – hopefully – undetectable by the anomaly. Although he was not really counting on it as he had read in the mission briefing that I-01 was quite strong magically, so surely it would be quite easy to detect magic for the anomaly.
Then, he detected it, like an electric jolt running through him. He quickly contacted the rest of the team through his transceiver.
He summoned it and spoke quietly, "This is Mirager I've detected I-01. It's approaching the plaza from the pedestrian lane. Over."
"Copy that. Over." The distinctively squeaky voice of Pequverde (A-09) replied promptly.
The host of the anomaly was an undistinguishable woman that seemed to blend into the background. After a while she sat at a bench near the plaza statue, and stayed there.
Eventually, Mirager saw his 3 teammates approach the Plaza from the road. He can't physically see them, after all, they would have stood out like sore thumbs but he sensed their presence through their magical signature.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
The host did not notice – or at least – seemed to not notice anything out of the ordinary. Why would she? She doesn't even know she is a host at all. But he wondered if I-01 had sensed their presence yet.
After about a minute, Mirager felt Darkness (A-10) move adjacent to the statue and somehow disappeared into the ground.
After 6 minutes, the host must be meeting a friend as another woman, much older than her approached the bench and talk rapidly and cheerfully to the host.
Meanwhile, Pequverde and the Captain separated and positioned themselves on opposite signs of the plaza.
Nothing eventful happened for the next 20 minutes, then a light appeared to exit the host.
Mirager cursed.
Its switching hosts most likely.
His transceiver buzzed. "Mirager, the anomaly has chosen a host near your area. Proceed with caution. Over." His Captain's voice.
"Copy," Mirager said shortly as he sprang into action, he took the illusion of a small mouse and withdrew his magic from the plaza. He wrapped it around himself like a protective cloak and jumped off the edge of the rooftop, feeling the brief rush of air as he hit the alleyway ground silently.
Scampering along the narrow passageway, he tried to sense where the anomaly might have gone, not to the east, not to the west – it was going south.
He rushed down the alley to an open road but stayed on the corner of the sidewalk so as to not draw attention to himself. He hid under a water spout and discretely pulled out his transceiver. "This is Mirager, I-01 is currently moving south down..." he glanced around for a sign of the street "...down Kadish Avenue. Over."
"Understood, Mirager," Captain Riviere's voice responded promptly. "Do you have a visual on the anomaly's host? Over."
Mirager moved out from his hiding spot, and followed his senses south. "Not yet, I'm in pursuit. Over."
"Roger that, Mirager. Stay vigilant," Captain Riviere replied tensely.
Mirager scurried through the maze of streets and shifted into a balding man as soon as he reached a particularly lazy area of the city. The anomaly seemed to have stopped somewhere in front of a rundown building, its façade crumbling and windows blocked up with bricks. But Mirager saw no sign of the anomaly or its host despite his magic's insistence.
"Well, this isn't dodgy at all," Mirager muttered.
He activated his transceiver once more. "This is Mirager, I-01 has led me to an abandoned building on..." he looked at a sign in the distance "...Yavin Avenue. No signs of the anomaly's host. Over."
"Copy that, Mirager," Captain Riviere responded. "Do not approach the building. We are en route. Over."
"Roger that"
Mirager looked over the building. It loomed over him like a forgotten giant. Ivy sneaked it away up the wall disappearing into cracks in the bricks.
Somehow, there was no one around. just an eerie silence that was interrupted occasionally by the noises of the city from the dista– His magic screamed at him... and the last thing he saw before a void engulfing was a shimmering mass of air right in front of him.
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
"Hello, A-03," a voice echoed.
Mirager looked around, but saw nothing, nothing at all. if the end of the universe was a location, this would be it.
"Who are you?” Mirager half demanded.
The genderless voice laughed mockingly. "You already know who I am, A-03."
A resigned look crossed Mirager's false face. Am I about to die? He thought to himself.
The voice laughed once again. "Oh, not quite you see, I want you to deliver a message."
He paused, surprised by the anomaly's actions. "Oh?"
"Tell your superiors that I do not want anything to do with them. What happened is long behind us. And if they dare to interfere with my plans, there will be consequences."
And then, Mirager felt a pull and he found himself on the ground once more, his Captain now looking down at him with alarmed worry.
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12:08 ENT (Eastern Nullaric Time) (8:08 WT), 28th of February, 1639 (28th of Memesa, 1995)
Aaipapa, Capitol Sector, Neragese Overseas Territory of Turmburg
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Aaipapa was a town, no, the only town on Turmburg Island. Half the day, the town was overshadowed by the imposing presence of Mount Turmburg to the east, an ice capped volcano that had not erupted for thousands of years. While to both the north and west, the flat colonial town had held back the tides of what was once the raging Nullaric Ocean but has transformed into a calm sea ever since the displacement.
But it was a façade, that the Apostle of Arsenine knew as he made his way along the concrete harbour glaring at the ocean.
Above, a helicopter passed, its roar briefly drowning out the sound of the waves. It was searching, looking for the giant octopus that had appeared numerous times and tried to sink countless fishing boats and patrol vessels over the last few weeks.
The 11th Apostle was a tall, slightly hallowed man, with brown-tanned skin and sunken eyes that seemed to have beholden the most horrific sights imaginable. He had volunteered to assist in the search for the elusive monster that had been harassing the coastal waters of Turmburg.
He approached a patrol vessel docked at the pier where a group of coast guards were gathered, preparing for another expedition to try and hunt down the octopus.
"Good afternoon, Apostle," the bearded captain of the patrol vessel greeted with a nod.
The Apostle nodded in return. "Likewise," he said in a hoarse voice. "Is your vessel ready to depart?"
"In a few minutes," the captain replied, he gestured towards the boat. "You are of course, free to board now."
The Apostle inclined his head once more and made his way onto the vessel via the self-transfigurating gangplank set up between the pier and the deck. He ignored the windless swaying of the water beneath as he stepped onto the vessel, drawing looks from the crew who would not have been able to recognise him.
Eventually, the ship set sail and the Apostle found himself at the bridge of the patrol vessel. Observing the activity of the crew silently as he spread his magic throughout the ship and the surrounding sea. Soon, the Apostle could barely register what was physically happening around him.
A group of magical signatures swam away from ship's path. A larger one swam close and swam away in a hurry. A few signatures in the sky, birds probably... And this was how the Apostle spent the next few hours until—
"Mr. Apostle." The captain's voice interrupted his concentration.
The Apostle turned to the man with an incensed expression. "Yes?" He snapped.
The captain paused for a moment. "Apologies for disturbing you, but the NCBS Tanna has spotted a large entity a few kilometres south, they believe it to be the giant octopus. We might need you on the ground soon."
The Apostle's eyes narrowed, and he nodded curtly. "Understood."
And the Apostle felt the vessel accelerate beneath his feet. Nearly making him swing to the right if it weren't for his centuries of experience on the sea.
Eventually, the ship slowed and the Apostle took this as his cue to descend from the bridge. In the distance, he could see the other patrol vessel moving parallel to their own.
Apostle reached out his magic once more. There were a few small presences in the water – fishes most likely, and the existence of the other ship about half a kilometre away. But no signs of the elusive creature.
Suddenly, a small motion of magic occurred. So small in fact if he was any lesser man, he might have missed it. It was the octopus; he was sure of it.
The Apostle concentrated on his physical form and rushed to the left of the vessel, and sure enough, he spotted a black rapidly moving mass under the water.
"Port side!" He warned.
And as quick as a flash, the deck scrambled.
The bridge must have also sighted it too as just a few minutes later, the alarm blared, and the black turret on the deck started to turn towards the creatures.
It fired just a few minutes later, drowning out the sounds of the waves with its deafening thunder. The shots hit its mark, exploding upon impact with the water and sending sprays of foam into the air.
Black liquid seemed to spread from where the octopus was – it was heading right for them.
Something rammed into the side of the ship with tremendous force causing the vessel to shudder in protest, sending some of the men off their feet.
The Apostle readied himself to fight against the giant creature just as a massive tentacle about the size of a tree trunk emerge from the water, latching on to the turret and stopping its assault.
The crew sprang into action and began shooting at the tentacle, ripping through its flesh like knives through sausages.
The tentacle released its grip on the now damaged turret just as another one launch itself on to the funnel.
But the Apostle was not having any of it. He spun around and with a slash of his hand, cleaved the tentacle cleanly in two, sending the remaining portion writhing and thrashing in the water.
He was partially astonished by the amount of blood that spewed from the severed tentacle, painting nearly the entire left side of the ship in red. The man suppressed a grimace and looked at the sea. The octopus was trying to flee, with the other patrol vessel in hot pursuit, shots fired occasionally.
"It's getting away!" Someone shouted.
"Not for long," the Apostle replied absently, he did not see the one who had spoken but he could sense the man's confusion at his words.
The octopus left a trail of crimson in its wake, making it quite easy for the pursuing ships to track its path through the water.
After a while, the Tanna seemed to have slowed down about a kilometre in front of them. The helicopter he had seen earlier at the harbour was circling above the other patrol vessel. It was firing at the water.
Their vessel joined them soon after and the turret began to shoot at the wounded octopus, the deafening sound of gunfire ringing in the Apostle.
Amazingly, it was not dead yet. Despite the relentless barrage of bullets and the wounds it had sustained, the wounded octopus did not attack but continued to thrash and spray blood, ink and water. The Tanna now looked like some abstract painting with its blotches of red and black.
The Apostle did not know how long he had been staring at the scene in front of him. But eventually, the firing lessened and eventually stopped, as the thrashing weakened until it too ceased.
"Well, this was rather anti-climactic." Someone from the crew joked, eliciting a few chuckles from those nearby.
The Apostle barely heard it as he continued to stare at the corpse of the octopus, now being netted and secured by the crew of the Tanna and their ship.
"...Mr. Apostle," he heard a voice call out.
The Apostle blinked and looked behind him to see the captain standing there, a mildly worried look on his face.
"Captain?" the Apostle asked neutrally.
"Are you alright, Mr. Apostle? The captain inquired. "You didn't seem all there just now."
The Apostle frowned. What had happened? How did he lose himself just a few moments ago? He shook his head mentally.
"I'm fine, captain." He changed the subject. "How much damage did the octopus cause?"
"Not a lot thankfully. The turret sustained some damage. A few men were injured when the giant octopus hit the ship, but nothing too serious."
Someone else called for the captain's attention, and he excused himself, leaving the Apostle to watch the crew work on securing the octopus. He was glad he did not have to use that much of his magic. Unlike regular magicians, deities – and by extension apostles – rely on believers to sustain their power through worship. But since the displacement, he had been cut from almost all followers. He might fade away altogether if he used too much of his divine powers.
And he did not intend to let that happen.
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15:31 WT, 28th of Memesa, 1995 (28th of February, 1639)
Komoyōsai Citadel, Kidō, Shimettasuna Island, Komeriku
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"Now, onto our international headlines. 2 protesters at Saikai, Hoywako Horapon have been reported dead today by Basic Rights Observers in what has now been a week-long demonstration over rising unemployment rates in the wake of the Great Recession." The female news anchor on the television said as footage of the protest flashed on the screen.
"In the south of the country, rumours of a new Youkai insurrection have surfaced. Several villages in Iōkō Province have reported several large-scale robberies and attacks villagers claim to be perpetuated by Youkai individuals. Local authorities in Hakuun and Kinsha City have confirmed these reports, but the Horaponi Ministry of Magic and Youkai Affairs have yet to release an official statement regarding the matter."
"Onto our next headline. Chowese President Hung K–" The television was turned off.
"I was watching that," a young-looking snow-haired man complained with an affronted look from the couch.
A woman in traditional Komerikan robes had walked over and waved her hand at the TV, causing it to be switched off.
"And use the remote next time," he added. "I do not know how many times you can do that before the thing breaks again."
The woman ignored him. "I may have found a temporary replacement for Kutsumi on the Council."
"Really? Who?"
The woman paused for a moment before responding, His name is Akiya Kisho. He's a respected Katoni magistrate from Kitadate."
That raised an eyebrow. "A Katoni? Are you sure a baumwolle is qualified for the Council?"
It's been 300 years, get over it. But the woman chose to verbally ignore the man's derogatory remark. "He has proven himself to be a fair lawman and has earned the respect of sapients in his village."
The man grunted but did not argue. "Fair enough."
The woman inclined her head. "I'll be off Rikuu."
The man waved her off dismissively. "Sure, sure." And he looked around for the remote.
As the woman turned to exit, she stumbled slightly, catching herself on the edge of the door frame. Rikuu noticed her and raised an eyebrow.
"Are you alright?"
The woman straightened herself. "I'm fine, it's just been a painful month."
She noticed black spots dancing at the edges of her vision but pushed them aside. She made to walk out the door when her legs buckled again, and she tripped forward, sending her to the floor with a soft thud. The last thing she heard before everything went black was Rikuu shouting her name.
The woman blinked, darkness surrounded her like a shroud but she was very much conscious.
It is the Dream Realm, she realised. But how did she get here?
Someone coughed behind her.
She spun around to find a black robed woman practically beaming with barely hidden glee. "Well finally, did you know how hard it was to get you here?"
The woman looked her up and down, "Alice?"
"I go by Masgi now."
The woman gave her an unimpressed look. "What do you want, Alice? and what did you mean?"
"It's Masgi, and I have come into contact with Nott, that's the reason–"
"Nott?" The woman interrupted Ali– Masgi sharply. "How?”
Masgi shrugged. "I don't know, I just felt him enter my realm one day. I think that was..." she thought for a moment. "...about less than half a month ago I believe."
The woman frowned. "And you have spent the last few weeks trying to speak with me."
Masgi nodded. "Yes, it was quite hard since you barely even slept in the first place."
The woman sighed. "What did Nott want?"
Masgi's expression turned serious at that. "He wants you to try and reroute the Site Delta Portal to the realm Neragon is in – or at least, gather some people with the expertise to do so."
The woman stared at Masgi. "Has he perhaps taken leave of his senses? That would be catastrophic if failed."
"He also wants me to tell you to tell the director of Site Delta to activate something called Contingency Dragon's Fang. He said he would know what it means."
A pensive expression settled on the woman's face. The name did not bold well for her even if she had never heard of it. "How would that work? We do not know where they are, or even if they are still in our universe."
"Nott didn't provide much detail but he seemed convinced this contingency would help."
There was a long silence.
"Alright then," the woman said finally. "I'll relay his message. But I will not make any promises."
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NOTE: This version of the document has been redacted to be made accessible to individuals with Level-D to F authorisation. Any unauthorised distribution or access to or by Level-G personnel or non-organisational individuals is punishable by death under C(6) of the Betrun Charter (12th Revision).
Item #: I-01
Threat level: End-of-world
Magical class: Lampros
Containment class: Aspro Neutralised Furvus
----
Special Containment Procedures:
REVISION I-01 1
[DATA EXPUNGED]
REVISION I-01 2
I-01 has been successfully neutralised through collaborative efforts by VROEMG containment teams Gato-3, Weiss-13, and Diamond-5; and the Union of Realms 32nd Peacekeeping Corp. The entity is no longer a danger to the world and its inhabitants.
REVISION I-01 3
As of ██/02/1995, I-01 has undergone an unexpected transformation. Despite prior neutralisation in 1986, I-01 has returned to an active state in the New World (see Incident PD-28).
As of the time of this article, I-01 resides in Arem City, Arem. It alternates hosts regularly as reported by containment team ████-█.
No hostile actions have been observed from I-01 since its return to an active state.
Description: I-01, self named Margarita is was a humanoid entity of extra-terrestrial origins. The entity is typically seen to possess pale white hair and skin; and blue eyes, and at the time of this article [DATA EXPUNGED].
I-01 has demonstrated the ability to teleport, with a maximum range of at least █,000 km in a single teleportation event. The entity is also known to have the capability to shapeshift into various forms, including air. The entity has an intelligence level equal or above human capabilities and displayed an understanding of at least 1███ languages, both unintelligible and known.
According to I-01, it was responsible for the obliteration of the planet Yulcan which formed the Inner belt of the Gentu System.
History: I-01 was originally discovered on ██████ Island in ████ and was brought to the recently built Site Ihwaz without resistance. Subsequent investigations revealed that I-01 had been living in isolation on the island for an extended period before discovery. The circumstances of its arrival on Gentu remain unknown, and it did not provide information about its origins.
Upon arrival at Site Ihwaz, I-01 exhibited no immediate hostile behaviour. In fact, it expressed a desire to cooperate with VROEMG efforts and engage in diplomatic communication with the organisation. However, the [DATA EXPUNGED] eventually led to the decision to neutralise I-01.
Addendum 1: Assassination
I-01 was assassinated on 13/04/1986 in a ██████ attack, in the aftermath, ███ personnel were killed in the operation and a sizable chunk of Site Ihwaz and surrounding waters were left in a state equal to the aftermath of the detonation of a 68 Mt explosive device, causing widespread devastation to local marine life.
The explosion generated intense electromagnetic pulses (EMPs) that disrupted communication systems across a radius of approximately 600 km, causing the 1986 Power Crisis in Ganjora and the coastal region of Sisonta. A surge of radiation also occurred due to the explosion, contaminating the environment and rendering it hazardous to any life forms without proper protection. VROEMG response teams Orange-14 were immediately dispatched to assess the situation.
Addendum 2: ████████
[DATA EXPUNGED]