?Chapter 1510:


    At ST’s headquarters, a hacker known as Hawk stared at his screen, eyes narrowing at the familiar golden Pris ID.


    “Again,” he muttered. “Why does Pris keep mirroring our movestely? It’s as if our two organizations are being guided by the same mind.”


    A thought struck him. Could it be that L, Pris’s enigmatic founder, was secretly also ST’s founder?


    The idea made his temples throb — yet it neatly exined a string of recent coincidences.


    Just then, his phone rang. A disguised voice, belonging to ST’s founder, came through with a terse instruction. “Post a bounty. Raise the reward to twenty million. Duplicate Pris’s task exactly. And also…”


    In his car at the highway entrance, Chris gazed out the window and issued a finalmand. “Initiate the global live stream. Broadcast it everywhere — now.”


    Minutester, the digital world erupted in chaos.


    At the entrance of a police station, Jarrod lowered his cap and tried to blend into the crowd. Suddenly, a nearbymercial LED screen flickered, its advertisement feed dissolving into static.


    A tense buzzing filled the air. Then the screen came to life — disying a man bound to a chair, bruised and battered, terror etched into every line of his face.


    Jarrod froze mid-stride, his forward momentum breaking as his chin lifted sharply. A crease formed between his brows as he turned and headed straight toward the oversized LED disy.


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    In the hospital, Ethan worked a de through an apple, carving thin slices while keeping up a stream of idle chatter meant to pull Marisa’s focus away from the ache gripping her body. Without warning, Marisa’s attention snapped upward, her finger lifting toward the television mounted on the wall.


    “Ethan, look — what’s happening on the TV?”


    Out on the street, Maxwell pushed forward with purpose, jaw set as he prepared to confront the punks who had tormented his sister. All at once, the crowd around him stalled — heads tilting skyward, fingers pointing toward the enormous screen fixed to the mall’s facade, murmurs breaking out in every direction. Maxwell followed their line of sight and stopped cold.


    Inside the police station, Rosanna had just wrapped up her statement and was turning to leave. Then her gaze caught on the lobby television, where the face of a man she had encountered once at a party filled the screen. It was Kolton — the head of Cooper Group.


    Officers surged closer, several fumbling with the remote in an effort to switch channels, only to discover it refused to respond. Every attempt brought up the identical broadcast. No matter how many times they tried, the image did not change.


    At the same time, with Cade guiding him, Dominic was en route to Elysium Apartments to check on his granddaughter when he noticed that every street-side screen was airing the very same footage.


    “Stop.” Dominic raised his hand, eyes narrowing as he focused on the disy.


    Cade followed his gaze and went still, shock shing briefly across his face. He recognized the man on the screen at once. “That is Kolton Cooper, chairman of Cooper Group. Theirpany hosted the charity gst night.”


    Dominic stared at the screen, taking in the man’s rumpled appearance with a tightened gaze. Who could have taken someone like him and reduced him to this?


    In Drakmire, Elvira paused mid-motion and gently lowered her coffee cup to the table.


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