A time judge's overreach, before a higher-dimensional storm

On the light screen, the pale green system notification resembled an unhealed wound.

[WARNING: Unknown high-level observer marker detected.]

[Target: The time skew event itself.]

Lynn's finger hovered in mid-air, not immediately closing the light screen.

He stared at the words, his eyes calm.

The situation is escaping the Rule Game of the game and sliding into a deeper, more dangerous realm.

That 0.03-second micro-management not only startled Proctor and Mobius, but also acted like a pebble thrown into the calm surface of Abyss.

The enormous underwater object was disturbed.

At that moment, no regular alarms sounded White Bone Hall.

But a deeper, more fundamental oscillation of permissions, originating from the system's core, silently seized control of the entire space.

The light screen in front of Lynn instantly cleared all Data Stream, turning into a Chaos snowflake.

Then, the snowflakes gathered and coalesced into a pure, pitch-black expanse that reflected no light.

The highest-level encrypted dedicated line connecting the Negative Zone Management Committee with the outside world was forcibly taken over.

It's not a request, it's not access, it's a takeover.

It's like an invisible hand that has directly strangled this line at the physical level.

In the center of the pitch-black light screen, an image slowly emerged.

There are no cumbersome official letterheads, and no TVA's iconic orange logo.

There was only one shadow.

A human silhouette dressed in a black robe, its face completely hidden in the shadow of the hood.

He simply stood there quietly, as if standing in nothingness, with no background or reference point behind him.

The entire light screen contained only him and endless darkness.

A silent, non-physical pressure seeped out through the light curtain.

It doesn't act on the body, but rather on the level of rules. It's as if the entire Source Code of the White Bone Hall is groaning under the gaze of this shadow.

Before Lynn could speak, a voice rang out in the hall.

The voice was neither male nor female, devoid of any intonation, like countless audio tracks forcibly compressed into a straight line—cold and absolutely efficient.

"Lynn."

The voice called out his name directly.

"Director the Negative Zone Management Committee."

It confirmed his identity, as if reading from a pre-prepared dossier.

"The fluctuations in the Temporal Loom have already attracted the attention of the ' He Who Remains '."

These words, like a thunderclap, exploded in the silent hall.

The He Who Remains.

A barely perceptible ripple finally appeared in the calm of Lynn's eyes.

It turns out that the high-level observer was the true mastermind behind TVA.

"Your actions are threatening the very foundation of the Sacred Timeline."

The shadow beneath the black robe remained motionless, but the icy voice carried an undeniable air of judgment.

"I, representing the Supreme Court the Time Variance Authority, hereby issue you an ultimatum."

There was no "negotiation," no "urging," it was directly an "ultimatum."

All the pretense of the bureaucratic system was torn away at this moment.

"Twelve standard hours."

"Hand over the Variant L-1190, Sylvie."

"At the same time, unconditionally open your core database to TVA's Discipline and Supervision Department for a full review."

The voice paused, as if giving Lynn time to understand and feel fear.

"This is your only chance to correct your mistakes and return to the Sacred Timeline."

Lynn didn't speak; he just stared at the shadow.

He knew that since the other party had chosen this most direct and brutal method, it meant that they didn't have many cards left to play.

When a large organization begins to abandon the rules it is best at and instead resorts to disruptive tactics, it often indicates that the crisis it faces has exceeded the scope of what the rules can resolve.

The overload on the Temporal Loom was even more severe than Sylvie had revealed.

"If we do not receive a satisfactory result after twelve hours."

The voice rang out again, each word like a nail driven into the coffin of the Negative Zone's fate.

"TVA will no longer follow any audit procedures, there will be no more official letters, and there will be no more hearings."

"The ' Omnidirectional Pruning Order ' will be issued directly."

"Negative Zone, and all the realities attached to it, will be completely and permanently erased from the Timeline."

"You, and your Management Committee, will cease to exist."

No one will remember you.

The words had barely left his mouth.

The black-robed figure on the light screen neither disappeared nor uttered another word.

He stood there silently, like a statue from the apocalypse, exerting a pressure more heavy than any words through his silence.

He was waiting for Lynn's reply.

To submit, or to be erased.

The White Bone Hall was deathly silent.

Lynn leaned back on the Throne, his fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on the armrest.

Once, twice.

He was thinking.

Compromise means handing over Sylvie, exposing all your cards, including the secrets of the system, to the microscope of TVA.

That's not living; that's another form of death.

A death that has been drained of all its value and then carelessly discarded.

No compromise means a "Omnidirectional Pruning Order".

It's Dimensionality-Reduction Strike using absolute power.

Lynn slowly raised his head, his gaze piercing through the light screen, as if trying to see what kind of face was hidden in the shadow of the hood.

He spoke calmly, his voice not loud, yet it echoed clearly in the empty hall.

"I refuse."

Two words.

There was no explanation, no rebuttal, no bargaining.

The shadow on the other side of the light screen seemed not to have expected such a direct answer.

That absolute darkness was followed by a silence that lasted for several seconds.

Then, that cold voice rang out again, this time with a hint of barely perceptible surprise.

"You... reject?"

"Yes," Lynn confirmed, "I reject your ultimatum."

You understand the consequences of refusing.

"I understand perfectly well." A faint smile even appeared on Lynn's lips. "But you seem unaware of the consequences of forcibly implementing the ' Omnidirectional Pruning Order ' against us."

The shadow beneath the black robe fell silent.

"Enjoy your last twelve hours of 'existence'."

A cold voice left behind its final words.

The shadows on the light screen, along with the deep darkness, vanished instantly.

The dedicated line was cut off.

Everything returned to normal, as if the confrontation that had transcended time and space was just an illusion.

But the chilling pressure in the air had not completely dissipated.

Lynn sat alone on the Throne, remaining silent for a long time.

He didn't look at the hourglass on the wall, which reflected the twelve-hour countdown.

They didn't contact any department heads either.

Faced with absolute power, any conventional tactical deployment appears pale and powerless.

Much later.

His hand, which had been resting on the armrest, slowly lowered and reached towards the base of the Throne.

His fingers groped along the cold metal beneath the table.

Finally, it came to rest in an inconspicuous groove.

There is a button there.

A button that has no markings and is never normally touched.

Lynn's fingertips gently rested on it.

He didn't press it immediately.

His gaze returned to the empty light screen, his eyes deep and thoughtful.

Since the other party has already broken all the rules, it's time to flip the table.

Then, one no longer needs to abide by the etiquette at the card table.

His fingers tightened slightly.

A very faint, almost inaudible "click" sound rang out.

The button was pressed.

Almost at the same time, a system command that only he could see flashed across the deepest layer of his retina.

The "Abyss Protocol" has been activated.

[Connecting protocol units: Wanda Maximoff... Gwen Stacy Stacy... Hela... Jean Grey... Natasha Romanoff...]

[Permissions confirmed. Core resources access channel activated.]