He clicked Write . The progress bar on the flashing tool turned blue. The Black Box hummed, a high-pitched coil whine that set his teeth on edge. The screen flickered, the old logo vanished, and for a second, the room went dark as the café’s power surged.

Elias froze. The figure in the video turned around. It was him, sitting at the same desk, looking at the same screen.

Elias opened it. It wasn't a manual. It was a single line of coordinates followed by a warning in broken English:

"Ninety-eight percent," Elias whispered, his eyes bloodshot.