The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tangled vines and creepers choke a half-submerged, ancient astronomical observatory in the middle of a swampy lake. Umm, the air's thick and heavy, and it smells like... decay, but the sky above is clear blue, and I can feel a low-frequency hum through my entire body. Shafts of sunlight catch the water's rippling surface, casting a hypnotic, dappled glow over the observatory's entrance – which is somehow reflecting a grainy, live feed of the Binance charts, like it's projected onto the stone itself. My vision's blurring at the edges; I'm running on fumes...