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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A perfectly still, turquoise-tinted wave pool is surrounded by what looks like the remains of a scrapped anime convention – piles of colorful wigs, destroyed cardboard boxes, and just like, totally mangled robot exoskeletons... all half-buried in the fine white sand around it. The air's thick with this weird, syrupy sweetness, and there's no wind whatsoever, like everything's trapped in a vacuum or something. A miniature replica of the Ouroboros seems to be emerging, scales-first, from the wave pool's calm surface, forming into a perfect circle around the surrounding mess. It's midday, the sky's a clear, light blue.