Conceptual erasure at the End of Time, the ultimate might of the Abyss Protocol

The tea inside the castle had gone cold.

The He Who Remains picked up the cup of empty tea, but didn't drink it; he just stared at the still tea leaf in the cup.

The gentle smile on his face, like the tea, had lost its warmth.

"I'm sorry."

He said.

"You rejected an offer that could have made you a ruler, but instead put forward an unacceptable condition. The Temporal Loom is the cornerstone of the Sacred Timeline; its Data Interface is not open to any external entity."

The voice of the He Who Remains was calm, as if he were reading a pre-determined, unalterable Final Judgment.

Lynn didn't say anything, but leaned back to make herself more comfortable in the chair.

He knew the negotiations were over.

"I once thought you were an interesting variable, someone who might become a collaborator." The He Who Remains gently placed the teacup back on the table, making a crisp, period-like sound. "It seems I misjudged you."

"You're not a variable, you're just a bug."

The moment the words left his mouth, Lynn sensed something was amiss.

It was not an attack, not an energy Impact, and there wasn't even any change in sound or light.

It is "existence" itself that is being quietly ripped away.

He looked down at his hand holding the teacup.

The skin texture on the back of my hand is fading, like paper that has been soaked in water for too long, losing its texture and becoming absolutely smooth.

The taste of the cold tea in the cup disappeared from his taste buds.

Next comes the tactile sensation.

He could not feel the hardness of the chair, nor the friction of the fabric of his clothes. All his physical contact with the world around him was being cut off one by one.

The Eternity- changing Nebula outside the castle window began to fade, its vibrant colors turning grayish-white, until it finally vanished into nothingness.

This castle at the End of Time is gradually erasing Lynn, this "faulty" program, from the very foundation of its concepts.

This is a silent, irresistible erasure.

Just like an archivist throwing a discarded document into a shredder. The whole process is efficient and produces no unnecessary noise.

Lynn's consciousness began to feel a sense of detachment.

His memories, all his experiences as "Lynn," began to resemble an old movie he had seen before, with distant scenes and a blurry plot. He could hardly even remember his own name.

This is a dimensional Dimensionality-Reduction Strike from the Highest Access Privileges, emanating from the ruler of time.

In the other person's domain, he is the rule itself.

Lynn did not panic.

In the final moments before he completely "disappeared," he made a movement with an almost instinctive, final moment of lucidity.

He cleared his throat.

This action seemed particularly abrupt in a space that was returning to "nothingness".

The He Who Remains, who was performing the "delete" operation, paused almost imperceptibly.

"Before you complete the operation."

Lynn's voice rang out, somewhat unsteady, but still clear in its logic.

"According to the ' Extreme-Risk Bundling Agreement ' we have signed with several high-risk entities, as the core of the agreement, I am obligated to inform you of an emergency response Contingency Plan that has been activated."

The gaze of the He Who Remains fell back on Lynn.

Lynn's body outline had become translucent, as if it might dissipate into the air at any moment.

"This emergency Contingency Plan is internally codenamed ' Abyss '."

Lynn spoke slowly, as if he were reading a dry legal document.

"The agreement stipulates that my vital signs are irreversibly bound at the core stabilizer of several 'special assets' under the Negative Zone Management Committee."

"Once my vital signs are determined to be 'permanently lost,' all restrictions on these special assets will be immediately voided, and their inherent runaway programs will be activated simultaneously."

The He Who Remains listened quietly without interrupting him.

The force of erasure hovered in mid-air, neither continuing nor receding.

These special assets include, but are not limited to, --

Lynn paused, as if recalling the contents of a list.

"The Death Authority, wielded by Hela Odinson, the Stability Maintenance Office Director Hela. The loss of control over this authority will lead to a disordered overlap between Helheim and the Prime Material Plane."

"The Chaos Origin within Wanda Maximoff, the Director the Technology Integration Department. Its out-of-control state will trigger indiscriminate and limitless changes to reality, until it exhausts all the possibilities of the universe in which it exists."

"Jean Grey, the Director of the Mutants Management Committee, Phoenix Force. Its loss of control will directly trigger the ' Final Judgment ' mode, formatting and incinerating the Timeline."

With each name Lynn uttered, his translucent body seemed to solidify a little more.

Those fading memories and self-awareness seemed to have found a new Anchor and were pulled back.

He raised his eyes and looked calmly at the He Who Remains.

"Simply put, the ' Abyss Protocol ' is a system of mutual destruction insurance. I personally don't want it to be triggered, because the mess that follows will be extremely troublesome."

"My death is not an end, but a trigger."

"It will detonate several 'bombs' simultaneously, enough to completely collapse the Sacred Timeline from within."

"You might be able to erase me, but are you confident you can simultaneously subdue a runaway Goddess of Death, a berserk Scarlet Witch, and a fully-formed Dark Phoenix?"

Absolute silence fell over the castle.

That invisible force, which was erasing everything, receded silently, like the receding tide.

Lynn felt the texture of the chair return to his back.

The coolness of the teacup returned to my fingertips.

The Nebula outside the window have regained their timeless and magnificent colors.

Everything returned to how it was before he cleared his throat.

It was as if nothing had happened.

But Lynn knew that something had completely changed.

The He Who Remains looked at him for a long time.

For the first time, those eyes, which seemed to see into the End of Time, revealed the complex emotions of a chess player discovering a nuclear bomb hidden on their opponent's chessboard.

There was surprise, there was anger, but more than anything, there was a cautious reassessment.

Much later.

The He Who Remains suddenly laughed.

It wasn't the gentle, polite smile from before.

It was a heartfelt laugh, tinged with self-deprecation yet also brimming with keen interest.

"Abyss Protocol..."

He repeated the name softly, as if savoring its deeper meaning.

"You turned a group of the most unstable lunatics into your strongest moat."

He stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to Lynn.

"You're right, I'm not confident I can take care of them both at the same time."

He turned around and looked at Lynn again, his eyes now completely changed.

It was no longer a superior scrutinizing an inferior, but an equal, even slightly wary, eye contact.

"It seems we need to revisit our previous discussion."

The He Who Remains's finger lightly touched the void.

The tea that had gone cold in front of them vanished instantly.

Instead, there were two cups of piping hot new tea, now steaming hot again.

"Now, Mr. Lynn," the He Who Remains sat down again, gesturing for him to sit, "Let's talk about your 'special assets,' and their price."