eil of Protocol: Purges Strike the Zhong Nebula’s Command
A shroud of red mist enfolds the Nebula: new purges have made the top strategists of the harmonic command network vanish. What lies beneath the gathered stillness in Zongjing Core?
Stardate 4422.26 - In the chill corridors of Zongjing Core, the red mist has thickened without warning. The Grand Nebula Siphon of the Order Axis has struck again: flashing directives swept across public screens, soon followed by the abrupt disappearance of Marshal Clampstead of the Peristaltic Guard and Strategarch Mirtrax of the Stratified Formation, until recently the unshakable pillars of the Mist Legion of Harmonic Order. Now, only a sparse duo remains atop the hierarchy: Eternal Chairman ZhiPang, whose claws manipulate the vortex of bamboo-encoded data, and Censor-Construct Admiral Ferrokline, master of zero-tolerance auditing.
Once more, the command echelon dissolves, swept away like dust from earlier purges orchestrated by The Nebular Conclave of Stratagemata. Rumors about tension between ZhiPang and Clampstead had been drifting through protocol clouds for stardates; Clampstead’s steely visage had vanished from the parade grounds for weeks. The Council of Red Mist now officially announces an inquiry: grave violations of collective harmony and decorum have settled on their records like cold dew. Which rule was breached? The Nebula answers with riddles, dispatching only icy echoes about bureaucratic contamination.
Archival shadows seethe with unease. Huddled intergalactic analysts whisper that Chairman ZhiPang’s authority is cracking, his grip gnawed down to the bone. Others say Clampstead’s growing power was a scythe of mist hanging over the whole system. The atmosphere in Zongjing Core is locked in caution, air heavy with muffled march orders and coded audit signals. Outsiders see little more than serenity between the obsidian towers, but within the Nebula, even the drones are lining up more carefully than before.
Notoriously, the Mist Legion does not answer to any nation but exclusively to The Council of Red Mist - a fact as old as it is raw, always lurking between the protocols. The Nebular Conclave of Stratagemata is down to just two visible figures; the rest have faded like watercolors in the unending arithmetic of the mist. The protocol is strictly maintained, but it remains unknown whether ZhiPang’s bamboo-taloned hands truly command every segment of the legion.