The system pinged, once, sharply, as if to demand attention.
[NEW TASK — COUNCIL DESIGNATION REQUIRED]
I frowned. After two years, the Foundation was operational. Sites secured. Personnel trained. Anomalies contained. And yet, this was something new. A title. A hierarchy. An official structure for the most powerful of us.
I opened the system interface and exhaled.
"Alright," I muttered. "Time to assign roles."
I typed quickly:
O5-1 — Administrator. That was me. Scientific division, magic, artifacts, mythology, and anything supernatural. I would oversee research, the creation of containment protocols, and analysis of dangerous phenomena. The title felt natural, commanding, and precise.
The system pulsed in acknowledgment.
Then I moved down the list:
O5-2 — Sentinel. Julius. Security. Containment. Mobile Task Forces. Recruiting soldiers, officers, and field agents. Every SCP that moved, every object that required protection, would be under his command. I smiled faintly. My best friend, my brother in all but blood, had always been meticulous, unyielding, and precise. He would be the shield of the Foundation.
O5-3 — The Watcher. Darius. Spy master extraordinaire. Every secret, every informational thread, every intelligence operation and assassination fell under his control. The entire Foundation's eyes and ears, silent and unseen, would be his domain. It was comforting to know that no one, anywhere, could move without him noticing.
O5-4 — Factorum. Qin Shi Huang. Military operations, resource management, recruitment. Every soldier, every strategic decision, every battlefield maneuver—even hypothetical scenarios—would pass through his mind before execution. A tactician with the reach of empires.
O5-5 — The Accountant. Cleopatra. Finances, budgets, the Ethics Committee, and medical personnel. She balanced morality with practicality, ensuring the Foundation could operate indefinitely without corruption, mismanagement, or disaster. She was the silent hand keeping the machine oiled.
As I typed, I realized that these five were only the beginning. The Foundation was vast, and the council's scope had to reflect that.
O5-6 — The Conscience. Joan of Arc. Ethics. Oversight. The moral compass of the Foundation. She ensured that every action, every containment protocol, every decision made in secrecy never lost its humanity.
O5-7 — The Recruiter. Alexander the Great. Recruitment and field personnel. Military coordination. He could inspire men to loyalty and precision, molding raw talent into unstoppable agents.
O5-8 — The Veil. Ashoka. Cover-ups. Normalization. The world would never know what existed beneath the surface because of her. Every rumor, every anomaly, every unexplained incident was quietly rewritten or erased under her guidance.
O5-9 — Archivist. Herodotus. Scientific research, knowledge preservation, alternate timelines, and hidden history. He was the keeper of wisdom, ensuring the Foundation never repeated mistakes and could anticipate phenomena far beyond immediate observation.
O5-10 — The Envoy. Gilgamesh. Diplomacy. High-ranking contacts. Kings, governments, rulers—all could be persuaded, bribed, or maneuvered for the Foundation's benefit through him.
O5-11 — The Merchant. Genghis Khan. Front businesses. Revenue streams. Cover operations. Anomalous objects required subtle economic infrastructure, and no one was better at creating empires out of shadows.
O5-12 — The Mentor. Cyrus the Great. Training, education, field officer development. Every agent who left our bases would be a reflection of his instruction, and by extension, our strength.
O5-13 — The Arbiter. Tie-breaking vote. Impartiality. Balance. The voice to decide when the council could not, ensuring the Foundation moved forward without internal stalemate.
I leaned back in my chair. Typing each designation had felt almost ceremonial, almost sacred. These titles weren't just labels. They were responsibilities, legacies, and tools. The system had forced us to organize ourselves formally, and I had to admit… the structure fit perfectly.
The system pinged again, a soft vibration in the back of my mind.
[COUNCIL DESIGNATIONS CONFIRMED — COUNCIL POWERS ACTIVATED]
Immediately, subtle effects rippled across the Foundation. Lines of authority clarified. Subordinates instinctively fell into their new roles. Containment protocols adapted automatically. Military and intelligence channels synchronized in ways previously impossible. Each O5 member now had not only a title but an enforced domain within the organization.
I exhaled slowly.
"This is… perfect," I whispered. Not for glory, not for ego, but because now, finally, the Foundation could act as a unified entity. Every division had leadership. Every anomaly had oversight. Every decision could be traced, reviewed, and executed efficiently.
Julius, sitting beside me, clapped me on the shoulder. "Looks like we're officially a government of shadows," he said. I smirked, thinking of the thousands of agents, soldiers, and operatives quietly carrying out our orders across hidden bases.
"We are," I replied. "And now the real work begins."
Because while our titles solidified power, the system's countdown never paused. SCPs would continue to appear. Challenges would escalate. And for the first time, the Foundation was ready not just to react—but to dictate the rules of survival in a world filled with horrors, gods, and anomalies.
We were twelve in name, thirteen in authority. But together, we were more than that. We were the first line between the world and the things that should not exist.
And I, Shammuramat, Administrator, would ensure that the line held.