A Private Tea Gathering at the End of Time, and He Who Remains' Political Offer

The surrounding noise vanished in an instant.

There was no shrieking sound of space being torn apart, nor the scorching heat of energy transmission; everything vanished without a sound. Lynn felt as if he had sunk into a deep, Absolute Silence pool, where even the sound of his heartbeat seemed distant.

When he sensed a physical presence again, he was sitting in an Obsidian- colored chair.

There was no dust or smell in the air, only a pure emptiness, thoroughly washed away by time.

Opposite him, there was another identical chair. A man sat calmly, intently arranging an antique tea set in front of him. He wore simple dark purple casual clothes, his face serene, his age indiscernible, as if he had been sitting there since the beginning of time.

This is the Castle at the End of Time.

The man before them was undoubtedly the "He Who Remains."

He didn't exude any aura or make any unnecessary movements; he simply pushed a small white porcelain teacup gently onto the table in front of Lynn.

"Try it," he said, his voice calm, as if chatting with an old friend he hadn't seen in a long time. "The tea leaves here have a growth cycle measured in years; there's no way to accelerate their ripening except by waiting."

Lynn's gaze fell on the clear tea. Steam rose from the cup, yet it felt utterly cold.

He didn't speak, nor did he touch the cup of tea.

The man seemed unconcerned, pouring himself a cup, picking it up, but not drinking it, only watching the ethereal steam rising from the cup.

"You're excellent, Mr. Lynn," he said slowly. "My initial intention in establishing TVA was to create a basic order within the chaotic Timeline. Just like a city's traffic system needs traffic lights and traffic regulations. Someone has to do this."

He paused, as if recalling something.

"Unfortunately, any large organization, after operating for a long time, will inevitably breed rigidity, arrogance, and internal strife. They will gradually turn the maintenance of the rules into the maintenance of the power that comes with the rules themselves."

"You've mastered the rules of TVA better than TVA itself. That's quite interesting."

Lynn remained silent. He knew these words were merely an opening. A person who could sit at the End of Time would never be so bored as to seek praise for an opponent.

The man put down his teacup; the bottom of the cup touched the table without making a sound.

"I invited you here not to hold you accountable as the ruler of TVA, nor to declare war in the name of Conqueror." His tone subtly shifted from casual conversation to a straightforward statement of facts.

"I'm here in my capacity as a project manager to have an informal conversation with you."

Project leader.

Lynn's eyelids twitched almost imperceptibly.

"The Sacred Timeline, this project," the man extended a finger and lightly tapped the air, and a massive model, composed of countless intertwined rays of light and trembling violently, appeared in mid-air between the two of them, "Is about to spiral out of control."

"The natural expansion rate of the Multiverse exceeds the computational redundancy of the ' Temporal Loom.' In terms you can understand, it's like the flood peak of a tributary is about to breach the dam of the main river."

The man waved his hand, and the model disappeared.

He looked at Lynn, his gaze becoming incredibly penetrating for the first time.

"I need a flood discharge area."

Absolute silence fell once again inside the hall.

Lynn finally understood that all the previous exchanges—the audits, the deterrence, and the seizure of the Void Beast —were merely TVA's probes within the conventional framework. When all the probes failed, the true mastermind chose to reveal his hand directly, laying bare the core predicament.

This is not a threat, but an offer for a deal.

"Your Negative Zone is very special," the man continued, speaking at a measured pace. "It exists independently of the main trunk of the Sacred Timeline, yet it is intricately connected to countless Reality Dimension. It has its own set of stable operating rules, its own independent energy system, and most importantly, it contains you."

"A person who can use rules to turn a mess into a success."

Lynn's fingertips tapped lightly on his knee. He was quickly assessing the information in those words. The other party's understanding of Negative Zone far exceeded his expectations.

My proposal is very simple.

"Negative Zone can become a ' Multiverse Flood-Control Special Zone '."

The man leaned forward slightly, as if offering a very tempting bargaining chip.

"All redundant data resulting from Timeline Pruning, obsolete time branches, and nowhere-to-go Variant... this stream of junk information, enough to overwhelm TVA, can be redirected to your jurisdiction."

"Of course, this doesn't come without a price."

"In return," he said, looking into Lynn's eyes, enunciating each word clearly, "I will, in the name of the supreme ruler of TVA, grant the Negative Zone the status of ' Independent Prince.'"

"This means that all departments of TVA, including the Discipline Inspection Commission and the Adjudication Office, will permanently relinquish all Jurisdiction, investigative powers, and enforcement powers over your jurisdiction. Your Management Committee will possess complete and thorough autonomy, free from interference from any superior authority."

"You, Mr. Lynn, will become the sole ruler of this independent territory."

"You no longer need to deal with those bureaucratic letters, nor worry about any form of audit or sanctions. You only need to periodically receive and process the 'floods,' ensuring they don't backflow and Impact the main roads."

"This is beneficial to both of us."

After the man finished speaking, he leaned back in his chair, picked up the cup of tea that had gone cold again, and waited quietly.

He finished speaking.

It's a political temptation that no ambitious person struggling within the system can resist.

They carved out a territory and granted themselves the title of king.

Lynn looked at the other person calmly.

He didn't look at the cup of tea, nor did he consider the immense wealth behind this autonomy.

Only four words were on his mind.

Flood-Discharge Special Zone.

He was all too familiar with this term. In any bureaucratic system, when a region is given a similar title, it often means that it will have to bear the pollution, risks, and costs that the Core Zone is unwilling to bear.

This is an open strategy.

A political conspiracy that uses supreme status and governing power to exchange for bearing the highest substantive risks.

Lynn slowly picked up the cup of tea in front of her.

The tea has no taste, no temperature, only a soul-stirring, ultimate emptiness.

He needs time to think.

The other party, however, seemed to have plenty of time.