DX01: SINGULARITY 06664

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Giant, rusted gates are half-buried in a thick layer of fine, powdery dust that coats everything. Like, it's sunny, but the light feels distant, muffled somehow, even though the sky is a perfect blue. The air is thick and still, heavy with the scent of burnt wire, and this huge, dilapidated stadium seems to be slowly sinking into the ground, as if it's being pulled down by the massive crystal formation growing up out of the center of the field, its facets reflecting the sun in a perfectly steady, unmoving beam. The scoreboard reads "Cycle 742: Spin 0000".