The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Frayed, crimson-stained silk fabrics are tangled with what looks like a decapitated, mechanical tortoise in the center of a ruined, Shinto-style shrine. Like, the air is thick with the smell of burnt incense and ozone, and it's eerily still – not a single leaf on the twisted, bonsai trees surrounding the shrine is moving. A sickly, yellow-orange sun hangs low in the sky, casting an uneven, eerie glow on the debris-strewn floor. A broken, obsidian-tipped spear is somehow still quivering with a violent, kinetic energy, lodged in the shrine's stone foundation.