DX01: SINGULARITY 17688

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, massive chunks of a downed jumbo jet are somehow woven into the fabric of a dilapidated, medieval jousting arena, with twisted metal and torn seats supporting ancient stone arches and overgrown with thick, thorny vines. Like, the air's thick with the smell of smoke, sweat, and grease as the sun beats down from high overhead, casting an intense glare over everything. A piece of the jet's wing has somehow grown into a perfectly symmetrical, crystalline structure, its facets reflecting shards of light into the surrounding air, and there's a weird, crackling electric charge building up in the silence.