The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, crystal shards jut out of the dusty ground, surrounded by concentric rings of fungi that seem to be pulling the air towards them. The sky above is a sickly yellow haze, casting a weird, jaundiced light on the rusting carcass of an abandoned roller harvester in the distance. Air's thick with the smell of burned rubber and, uh, something weirdly metallic, like someone poured molten chrome into a vat of battery acid. The Sephirot symbol's etched into the metal's corrosion, radiating a gentle hum that's, like, somehow maintaining a perfectly stable atmospheric pressure of exactly zero.