The SCP Experience - The Hands of God | SCP-007

Episode Date: February 3, 2023

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-007: The Hands of God This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-007 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Lucas Click Check out the Author's work here: newpulptales.com DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We don't know what these people are called. For lack of a better term, we call them demons. They look the part. Blue-furred, forked tongue, forearmed, pointy-tailed, and horned foreheads. They match the description of demons from our scriptures. Once upon a time, we might have been content to let them rest in their heathen lands. Surely such foul-looking beasts could never understand the words of enlightenment. they would never be able to welcome the light of coal into their hearts.

No sense in trying to save those that are already damned, as the Archmagus says. We were willing to let them live out their hedonistic existence until they faced coal's judgment. But they couldn't keep to themselves. This is a new age, an age of exploration, of discovery, and of spreading the word of coal. We have mastered the art and science of seafaring and explored the world. At every port we claim, we leave the people financially, physically, and above all else. Spiritually better off than before they saw our sails. But the demons are learning, either through copying us or from secrets whispered from their dark gods.

We do not know which. The demons have also taken to the sea. They've even started settling in lands home to humans, but out of our control. in a blasphemous attempt to steal those destined to be saved by coal. We cannot let such crimes go unanswered. It was the Archmagus that came up with the plan. We finally discovered the homeland of the demons from the most recent liberated colony. We know where they live, and we have taken our holy crusade to the steps of their capital.

The journey to their homeland has been rife with difficulty and hardships. Less than 10 of the 50 ships that set sail from the Motherland remained when we arrived at our destination. Yet our ships and hearts remain buoyed. We trusted in call, the one true God, and the Archmagus as he shouted our order, his magic propelling his words so that every ship could hear. We march straight through their capital, to their heathen place of worship. Then our mage bomb will do the rest. rest. We will be welcomed into Cole's holy lands as the heroes that we are.

Our battle cry sounded over the crashing waves and the roaring flames from the demonic magic. It rose in fury as we disembarked, taking arrows and charm to the chest, but charged forward undaunted. We shouted in righteous wrath when we clashed with the enemy. Our superior steel cut through their armor and into their flesh. Though they were better at conjuring flames, our mundane torches burned their homes just as easily as their arcane tricks. Their homes, their village, I think as I slump against a stool in the town square in a brief respite from the fighting. I wiped the blood from my eyes as I survey the smoke and fire around us. Their architecture, it's so similar to ours. The foods were different, filling the air with a thick

spice amongst the flames. But this could easily be mistaken for the city I grew up in. Waging war is always easier in the thick of battle. Yes, fighting for your life is a challenging ordeal. But there is a simplicity and a necessity to the carnage. For me, it's always been hardest after that. When you have time to stop and think about the destruction you have wrought, my eyes fall to the steel gauntlet that holds my sword. Both are dripping with fresh blood. Franically, I call for a squire who wipes down the blade, he hands it back to me, no longer stained as it once was. But the battle, the slaughter, had gone on for so long. Bits of blood have already dried within the grooves of my steel. Their blood, it's the same color as ours, dark crimson red. They bleed

like we do. Their men and women fought to protect their homes, the same as we do. Their elderly clung to the children, hidden away in their homes. They cried for mercy and wailed in agony the same as their friends. I snapped to attention at the familiar, authoritative voice and salute Archmagus Delroy. Though he is nearing his 70th year, he is still hard iron. His muscles bulge against what would have been loose robes on any other clergymen. His physical strength is nothing compared to the magic at his command, powered by his faith. He is a pious and brave man who has earned the soldier's loyalty by riding into battle alongside them. Apology, sir. I bow my head. I just, I know what you're thinking. I freeze and stare at him before casting my eyes on my armored boots. Was that another one

of his gifts? Could he peer in? into a man's thoughts as thoroughly as he commanded the tides that brought our ships to these well-guarded shores? Two strong hands rest on my shoulder plates, crafted so well that I don't even feel the force behind them. Still, I feel compelled to look up, and the Arch Magus matches my gaze with his own. There's no shame in it, boy. He gestures toward the fires and the corpses that fill the street. even with people as strange and fearsome as these. People? The word springs for my lips before I think better of it.

Aye, Delroy nods. Animals don't mourn they're dead. We do. And so do these folk. Demon is a nice word to describe them, and it makes it easier for us. It's easier to kill a monster than a man. Then, the Archmagus's words

to jar my thoughts more than a blow to the head. How can we? How is this right? Franz. His voice brings my eyes to his again. Have you ever killed a human? I hesitate but not. Why?

The wall of humanity worships coal. Conflicts still arise. Not over matters of faith, but disputes over territory, revenue, or other trivialities. Some countries have rebelled against the crown and sought to become kings themselves. And while I regretted having to kill my fellow man,

I knew without question that it was in the service of the better good, and if I had not killed them, they would have killed me. It is my duty to one day fall in the service of the one true God. But if I lay down my arms, that is a disservice to him and myself. Because I had a choice. Exactly. Archmagus Delroy wraps my shoulder.

I believe that these demons are people, heathen blasphemers, but people even still. And I believe that if they are not wiped from this earth, our people cannot survive. Do you agree, Sir Franz? I nod, this time without wavering. Yes. Then we have no choice. He takes me by the arm and shows me the mage bomb. Just as she didn't.

The young woman was an acolyte of the temple before becoming a living weapon. One of the chosen few of humanity born with the gifts of magic. Her ears have been cut off and sealed shut. A cloth is tied tight around her eyes, concealing where they were plucked out. Her mouth is stitched shut. The threads tight and unyielding. But her hands are closed, tight in prayer, as she gathers her magic, the same as she has been doing for months.

She has undergone all this suffering freely in service to Cole and our mission. Will you complete your sworn duty, Sir Franz? Archmagus Delroy's voice rises, capturing the surviving soldiers' attention. Will you come with me to deliver the mage bomb at the heart of this sacrilegious temple? Yes, sir. What was that, Sir Franz? Yes, sir. How about the rest of you?

Delroy opens his arm and looks at the other soldiers. Will you come with Sir Franz and me? The cheer rises above the flames, drowning out the voice of the dead city. Delroy's hand closes into a fist, and we all do the same as we follow in his wake. Then onward, onward to victory, onward to death and salvation. As we approach the church, I cannot help but be reminded of the house of worship I went to every day before entering the military. It's brick instead of wood, But the stained glass windows always indicate sanctuary and peace.

Remembering the ArchMegas's words, I snuff the instances of familiarity and raise my sword. I shout out all my doubts that the other soldiers join me in a bloodthirsty chorus. We are united in one purpose, to destroy their heathen ways and protect our people once and for all. Of course, we will perish in the mage bomb alongside the demons. But it's a small price to pay for the security of our kingdom. And everlasting paradise shall be our reward.

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So I hand my sword to my squire and take one side of the battering ram with a squadron of soldiers. After more, take the other side. We lift and lurch it back. The wooden doors are sturdy and resilient. Meeting our initial brunt force with a reverberation of defiance.

More heaves, though, and a loud crack rings out, rallying us further. A man screams to my right as the smell of scorched meat invades my nostrils. Another knight goes down. His face is a raging inferno despite his helmet. Glancing upward, shadows skirt the roof of the temple. Another barrage of fire rains down and engulfs two more nights, and the battering ram lurches to one side. Too heavy for the survivors to lift.

Shield! I yell, and soldiers and squires rush around us until a metal canopy looms overhead. The shields, blessed by the Archmagus and the other mages under his command, batter the balls of flame away. And yet, it is no easy task to guard a moving unit of men as we sway back and forth, attempting to shatter the door. The demons have retreated to this last pathetic vestige of protection, using their magic to hold us at bay.

Archer's! Archmagus Delroy's words rise above the battle, amplified by his magic. Bowes thrum and arrows whistle through the sky. While we are lacking in numbers since the invasion, we are more skilled with a bow and arrow than our foes. The fire raining down on us dwindles to a trickle of embers, followed by waves of blood as our sharpshooters find their targets. The battle passes in a frenzied haze of desperate determination from both sides.

But our faith proves stronger, and soon the last balls of fire stop. The triumphant cry from our archers fills us with renewed vigor, with the threat disposed of. Our archers swarm beside us, picking up the slack of our fallen men. We give one final heave. Then the door cracks in an explosion of broken wood. The battering ram drops with a heavy thud before a chorus of unsheathed steel. My steeled boots kick away the towel. the shattered remains of the door, and I lead the charge inside.

A demon rushes to meet me with something in his hand. I let my training take over, and my sword slashes through it. A spray of blood and the fluttering of pages tell me it was a book of Scripture, not a weapon. Our soldiers rush past me. Most of the demons are unarmed, resorting to praying to their heathen gods rather than defending themselves. They'll find no salvation from their false deities, false deities, nor any mercy from us. I raise my sword to join the fray.

But the battle is already over. Only the dead and dying are left within the house of worship. Sweat runs down my face, momentarily blinding me as it mixes with the blood and the soot left over from our onslaught. Knowing that the worst is over, I yank my helmet aside and hear the familiar footsteps of my squire. He starts to mop at my face. But I'm not some pampered noble son. I'm a knight who has climbed the ranks through hard work and unwavering faith. I snatched the cloth from him and wiped the mess away myself.

I know nothing can be gained from looking at the enemy's altar, but I can't help myself. I want to know what sort of false God could command the demons to fight so furiously against Almighty Cole himself. Though I will never return to my homeland to tell the tale, tale. My pride can't resist the temptation to sneer into the false idol's face before I ventured to Cole's enlightened lands. My grin drops. The strength from my hand vanishes, and my sword clatters to the ground. As I stare at the wooden sculpture, my armor feels heavy from the innocent

blood that drenches it. No, it can't be. Other soldiers look in my direction, and I hear other weapons fall to the ground. The sculpture is of a man not so different from us. He stands tall, his hands open wide in a gesture of peace. While his expression is benevolent, the sculpted chest marks our damnation. The man's chest is not flesh and bone. It is oceans and sky, scattered islands and massive continents. The depictions are not just of the demons lands, but ours as well. The swirling clouds and waves are carved with detail and devotion Only the faithful could accomplish. It is the God that I've prayed to every day of my life.

Cool! The word is so full of shock and heartbreak that I don't recognize it until Archmagus Delroy pushes past me. The unshakable man that commanded our forces falls to his knees with tears in his eyes. Turning around, I look past the shocked expressions of the knights, Now united once more, not in pride but in shame. We came looking for salvation, but only found ruin.

We are not heroes. We are murderers. The demons. My voice comes out in a choked sob, and I shake my head. The people of these lands, they worship coal as we do. A sound like tremendous thunder rips up from our shock. Once more, I'm the first out of the church and look toward the horizon. A light billows from the land, a transcendent, rippling, red, angry energy the same color as blood.

It's Cole's wrath, one of the soldiers says. He's going to smite us for the atrocities we have done in his name. Squinting, I watch as the ball coalesces into the sky. It tightens and forms a sphere, growing in size rapidly. It's not long before it eclipses the sun. Though I have never seen one before, no one has. and lived. I recognize it from the Archmagus's descriptions. It's a Mage bomb, Archmagus Delroy says from behind me, then vanishes inside the temple.

I follow him, the sight of the slaughtered innocents roiling my stomach. The Archmagus unsheaths a knife from his side, snapping me into focus. He strolls toward our Mage bomb, but I dash forward and grab him roughly by the arm. What good will killing her do? A demand from the man who led us so far astray. She is the only innocent among us. The only one who hasn't murdered innocent worshippers of Cole. In his name, man, let at least one of us glimpse salvation.

A flash of Delroy's old strength returns as he pulls his arm free for me. I'm content to let these people obliterate us with their bomb. Cole knows we deserve as much for our, for my arrogance. But she's close. What do you think will happen if two men, Mage bombs detonate at the same time. My heart drops from my chest as I stagger back. Mage bombs are destructive because of the chaotic energy and the sacrifice of the bombs bearer.

While the lands are obliterated in the initial blast, the surrounding weather and grounds are forever altered and made unlivable. It's one of the reasons we chose such desperate moves. We would not only wipe out the capital, but doom the demons. These people in unending disasters they would never recover from. But two bombs? No one has ever been foolish enough to attempt such an act. It could mean the destruction of the entire planet.

The Archmagus sees understanding in my face and masks his shame in grim determination. There is only one way to stop a mage bomb from detonating. The girl must die. It's the only way to minimize the damage we have caused. Delroy steps toward her with his knife raised. But as he does, the stitches around the woman's lips snap one by one. Her mouth opens, and a blinding blue light pierces through the gaps in her teeth.

A scream and power billows from within her as the light rips through her blindfold and projects out toward the sky, shattering the roof above us. Delroy charges but is engulfed in a wave of azure light. Blue fire washes over his skin. A flash of bone is all I see as his skin is burned away. transformed to ash that crumbles into the wind. The girl is lifted into the sky, her body now nothing but pure, destructive energy.

We're too late. If I hadn't stopped his hand, maybe some salvation would be left for the world. Now there is nothing but certain death. I turn and flee. My faith lost, not knowing where to run. The rest of the soldiers join me, running down the blood splattered streets and back to the harbor.

Something freezes me in place as we near the harbor. It sounds like, children. The cries come from an upturned carriage, and I toss it aside. Huddled beneath the straw are two natives, no more than three or four years old if they age like us. I pull them both up into my arms. They scream and pelt their tiny, closed fists against my armor. I feel nothing, but the fear in their attempts to get away

crumbles another piece of the shattered remains of my heart. Of course they're afraid of me. Why shouldn't they be? I am one of the monsters that came here and destroyed their world. For all I know, it was my sword that forever separated them from their parents. I smother the thought, as well as the realization of the futility of my actions. I don't know what difference it will make, whether these children are wiped away in the streets or from the vantage of an enemy ship.

Despite this, I can't bring myself to abandon them. So, as they scream and wail, I run up the gangplanks. A moment later, the ship breaks away from the harbor. Already, the waves are violent and raucous from side to side. Several men go overboard, perishing beneath the surface, weighed down by their armor. Some don't even make an effort to keep their balance. They look relieved as they sink beneath the waves. Whether that is because of guilt from what we have done,

or seeking mercy from the two mage bombs, I do not know. With the two squirming, defiant children in my arms, I dare not ask. My desire to keep them alive, even for just a little bit longer, is my sole concern. I look with the other survivors over the horizon. The two mage bombs are now almost equal in enormity, a blazing blue and furious red eclipsing the sun. As they grow closer, tendrils of energy break apart and collide. Explosions fill the sky and drown out all other sounds. I fall to my feet and start to pray.

Too little, too late. But I hope Cole will offer some mercy in the afterlife, even knowing I don't deserve any. As I recite the scripture, several other voices join me. But it's in a language I don't know. It's the children. Their arms are wrapped around each other, reciting their foreign prayers.

But I recognize one word. Cole, tears fill my eyes, and I pull the children close. to me. For once, they do not resist. Perhaps they know what is coming and just need something to cling to. As the tears fall down my eyes, I look up at the sky, hoping to see the heavens, but instead only see the mage bombs. Sweet, merciful, Cole, I'm so sorry for what I have done. I know that I am damned, but there are still innocence here. I do not know how, and I know I am no longer worthy of asking anything of you, but please, please, somehow, spare these children who have already lost

so much. The echo of armor falling on the deck surrounds me. Other soldiers start to pray, momentarily muting the sounds of destruction. The mage bombs have grown so large that it's easy to imagine the world reaching out to Cole, begging for mercy. Merciful Cole! The cry is met by a legion of gasps that jerk my eyes toward the sky. The clouds are dark against the coiling and colliding energy, but something forces them to part. From beneath the darkened sky, something wrenches between the two mage bombs, pushing them in opposite directions. I can't believe my eyes, but I lift the children onto my shoulder, breaking their prayers so they can see that our prayers have been answered.

Cole has deemed us worthy of salvation. Two giant hands force the mage bombs apart, and the devastating energy dissipates. The fingers, tighten around each destructive orb and lifts them. The bombs grow smaller in the sky, carried away by the retreating hands. The sea calms and the sky slowly clears. In a matter of moments, Armageddon has been averted. We are all free to live another day, all thanks to the mercy of our God. A cheer rises from the ships. Battle-hardened veterans clutch each other, laughing and shocked relief. The children in my arms clap their hands together. momentarily forgetting the horrors they have seen today.

But I will always remember, nor can I let my people forget. Sitting the children down, I unsheathe my sword and raise it above my head. Brothers and sisters, soldiers of coal, hear me! I brandished my sword high until all eyes are upon me. We have witnessed the presence of the one true God. We thought to honor our God through war. We let our prejudice guide our hands, and in doing so, committed betrayal and murder against our siblings and faith.

And yet, Cole still delivered us from the brink of our self-inflicted destruction. A somber silence falls over the ship, and I can feel the eyes of the survivors on the other vessels on me. Now with divine intervention past, the children cringe at my alien words and the sight of my blade. I step past them and hurl the weapon into the ocean. No more! I strip off my gauntlets and toss them over. No more bloodshed to honor a god of mercy. My boots go over next.

No more discrimination for a god that loves all equally. The grieves and the rest of my armor tumble beneath the waves. No more bigotry. No more hate. No more war. No more! The chant starts as another knight steps beside me and tosses his weapons overboard. Then another, then a dozen, and more still.

The ocean is filled with abandoned weapons and armor, and the chant grows louder. As they take up my new battle cry, no, a cry for peace. I solemnly vowed to Cole that I will not forget what happened today. I will spend the rest of my days spreading his message of peace and atoning for my sins. War will never touch these blessed lands again. After all these years of our weekly chess game, I'm still impressed and a little amazed when I sit across from Cole. That gives me some comfort.

It means I haven't become jaded after all my years as a researcher for the foundation. Too many of my other colleagues have. However, I have gotten to the point where the SCP and Cole's chest rarely distracts me from our matches. I'm usually able to keep him from winning in less than a dozen moves. I still hope to beat him one day, despite how unlikely it seems. Today, though, the planet in his chest is different. The usual tranquil blue skies and swirling clouds of darkened. Two orbs of light billow up from the surface,

coating coal in competing flares of red and blue light. I reach for my radio to call security, but coal only sighs in annoyance. He reaches his hands into his chest and pulls out the crackling balls of energy in each hand. Closing his fists, he shakes them violently, and static electricity fills the air, making my teeth itch.

When Cole opens his hands, they are empty. The orbs of energy gone as quickly as they appeared. Wiping his hands clean, he studies the chessboard between us without saying a word. What was that, Cole? Huh? He blinks. And a slight annoyance crosses his face as it does every time I ask questions during our matches. As if I'm doing it to distract him,

and not genuinely interested in the man with the planet where most people keep their heart and lungs. Oh, they do that sometimes. It used to happen more frequently, but now it's only once every couple of years. Knowing that it's only a matter of time before he sinks back to focus solely on our game, I ask, does it hurt?

He shrugs his shoulders. It isches a little. Then he moved his knight, taking my bishop and ending the game. Checkmate. SCP7 is located within a cavity in the abdomen of a man. The subject is a Caucasian, physically approximately 25 years of age. Most of his abdomen is absent, though the subject does not appear to suffer because of this.

Instead of ordinary flesh, a sphere composed of soil and water is present, though it does not actually come into contact with the subject's body at any point. In most respects, the sphere appears to be a miniature near duplicate of the earth. approximately 60 centimeters in diameter. However, continental alignment is not consistent with that of any alignment known in Earth's history. The sphere has its own weather patterns and negligible gravitational pull, in addition to microscopic organisms somewhat resembling those of modern-day Earth inhabiting it. Two intelligent species have been observed,

though contact and communication with either has yet to be made. technology levels of observed species must be checked at least once a week and, as of the most recent observation, are approximately equal to that of 15th century Earth. The subject claims to be named Cole Chambers, but no records of such a person can be found. Subject does not require food or water, and while he has been observed consuming both, what happens to such substances after being swallowed is unknown. The subject is intelligent, amiable, and regards the planet in his abdomen as a minor curiosity. Chambers seems to experience no stress about his unusual condition.

He has provided a social security number and driver's license number and requested that they be checked against known records. When checked, it was discovered that neither had yet been allocated.