Sudden Economic Sanctions, the Complete Severing of Reality Anchors
The piercing alarm shattered the tranquility of the Negative Zone.
That wasn't a battle alarm signaling an external invasion, but a deeper, more fundamental buzzing, originating from the underlying systems that kept the entire Dimension running. The sound was shrill, carrying the agonizing wail of a system on the verge of collapse.
White Bone Hall, the atmosphere that had just relaxed slightly after the Standing Committee meeting instantly froze.
"Report! All official power interfaces from ' Reality Anchor -01' to 'Reality Anchor-12' are experiencing signal interruption!"
"Energy storage system alarm: External energy input has plummeted to zero!"
"Emergency communication from the Technology Integration Department: The Chaos Furnace's backup power has been activated, but it can only sustain the Core Zone for a minimum of twenty-four standard hours!"
Messages urgently reported by lower-level departments through encrypted channels struck everyone's nerves like a rapid drumbeat.
Wanda was the first to appear in the center of the hall. Instead of taking the usual passage, she used Chaos Magic to tear open space, her expression more solemn than ever before.
"All official energy interfaces with Earth's Reality Dimension have been forcibly severed at the protocol layer."
She looked at Lynn on the Throne and spoke very quickly.
"It wasn't physical destruction, it was a higher-level privilege operation. The other party modified the underlying identifier of the interface, and all our legitimate access requests are now being judged as illegal and blocked by the firewall. It's equivalent to... our bank accounts being frozen, and it was done directly by the central bank."
This analogy immediately made Gwen Stacy and Hela, who arrived later, realize the seriousness of the problem.
Gwen Stacy frowned. On her personal Liaison Office terminal, all the contact icons pointing to the Reality Dimension had turned gray and were no longer accessible.
"All my communication channels, including the backup network established by Nick Fury, have failed. We are completely cut off from the outside world."
Hela's reaction was the most direct; the Aura of Death surrounding her almost materialized, and suppressed rage burned in her dark green pupils. She didn't speak, but her expression seemed to say: See, this is the consequence of your insistence on following procedures.
Kang's threat came true.
It wasn't through Fleet of thousands of troops, nor through devastating weapons, but by striking at the root of the problem, directly severing the lifeline of this nascent organization.
The Negative Zone is essentially a parasitic space that exists in dependence on the Reality Dimension. Its operation, personnel replenishment, technological research and development, and the energy maintenance of the Undead Legion —everything—depends on the energy and resources continuously drawn from the Reality Dimension.
Now, this life-sustaining umbilical cord has been severed with a single cut.
Panic, like a plague, began to spread silently in every corner of the Negative Zone.
The energy-based stars on the dome of the main hall began to flicker, the lights in the corridor automatically switched to the lowest emergency brightness, and the constant humming sound in the air, representing abundant energy, also weakened.
A sense of impending doom hung over everyone's hearts.
Hela finally couldn't hold back any longer. She stepped forward, her voice icy. "He doesn't dare to appear in his true form, only resorting to such underhanded tactics, which precisely shows that he's all bark and no bite. Give me a Fleet, and I'll charge out right now. Even if it's a coordinateless jump in the endless void, I can find his lair."
"It's useless." Wanda dismissed her suggestion outright. "All our stargates and warp engines rely on the parameters of our Reality Anchor points for energy calibration. Now that the Anchor are severed, we're like a computer that's been unplugged; we can't even power on, let alone run any programs."
The technical officer's judgment intensified Hela's anger, but she had no way to refute it.
Gwen Stacy added from another perspective, "The bigger problem is internally. How long can our current supplies last? How long can our personnel salaries... no, how long can our energy supply be maintained? Once basic living conditions are disrupted, we'll be in chaos even before the enemy attacks."
Three department heads, three different perspectives, but all pointing to the same despairing conclusion: they were trapped.
All eyes eventually focused on the Throne.
Lynn remained leaning there, her posture unchanged.
He didn't look at anyone, but listened quietly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the cold, white bone armrest.
Once, twice, three times.
In this moment of panic and near collapse, the regular knocking sound became the only stable rhythm in the hall.
"Have you finished speaking?"
Lynn spoke, his voice calm and undisturbed, as if the terrible news that could destroy the entire organization was just a few insignificant morning briefings.
Hela, Wanda, Gwen Stacy all fell silent.
Lynn rose from his Throne and surveyed the dimly lit hall, which was somewhat dark due to insufficient energy supply.
"Very good, I'll make the arrangements now."
"Technology Integration Department," he said, turning first to Wanda, "Submit a report immediately, calculating the minimum energy consumption required to maintain the core system of the Negative Zone and the basic vital signs of all personnel. Simultaneously, reduce energy allocations for all non-combat departments by ninety percent."
Wanda paused for a moment, then nodded emphatically. "Yes."
"Stability Maintenance Office," Lynn turned his gaze to Hela, "Contract all external Defense Line. Except for the 14-B Subway Station depot, all Undead Legion should be placed into hibernation to minimize energy consumption. At the same time, be responsible for internal order; anyone spreading panic or undermining morale will be dealt with according to wartime Discipline."
Hela's lips moved, but she finally managed to squeeze out a single word through gritted teeth. "Yes."
"Liaison Office," Lynn said, turning to Gwen Stacy one last time, "Take inventory of all physical supplies, including food, water, and basic medical supplies. Develop the strictest rationing plan. From today onwards, the Negative Zone is under full wartime control."
"I understand." Gwen Stacy's reply was concise and forceful.
None of Lynn's orders concerned how to fight back or how to break the deadlock.
All his instructions were directed inward, towards contraction, thrift, and control.
He seemed to have fully accepted the lockdown and was prepared to lead everyone through an unprecedented period of hardship.
This pragmatic, almost passive approach took the three female managers by surprise, but also gave them a strange sense of relief.
The leader's composure is the best tranquilizer. The fact that he didn't panic means things haven't reached their worst point yet.
"Finally," Lynn added, "Each department head must submit to me within one hour an assessment report on the longest period their department can operate independently without any external support."
"Go and carry it out."
He waved his hand without saying another word.
The three exchanged a glance, suppressed their doubts, and accepted the order to leave.
The vast White Bone Hall was soon left with only Lynn.
The starlight from the dome dimmed further, casting an even deeper shadow on his tall figure.
He slowly descended from the Throne and came to an inconspicuous wall on one side of the hall.
He reached out and gently tapped five times on the smooth bone wall in a specific order.
The wall slid open silently, revealing a small, dusty hidden compartment.
There were no weapons or magical artifacts in the hidden compartment, only an old-fashioned red telephone.
A thin layer of dust had settled on the telephone, indicating that it hadn't been used in a long time.
Lynn picked up the receiver and blew the dust off it.
Then, with his finger, he slowly dialed a number that only he knew on the dial pad full of rotary dial holes.
"Beep... beep..."
Two muffled "waiting" tones came through the receiver.
Lynn held the receiver to his ear and waited quietly.