The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dark, impossibly complex root systems burst out of the ground, like... a million twisted, organic wires, in the center of a vast, empty sports stadium. The air's heavy with the smell of ozone and damp earth, and the distant thrum of some unseen machinery vibrates through the stands, creating an eerie, pulsating hum. Umm, a low-res, glitching banner reading "LIGHT SPORE GAMBA" hangs limply from the upper deck, reflected in the wet, slick surface of the field like a broken mirror. The stormy sky above seems to be shifting into a deep, burning crimson.