Adam pasted the copied phone back into his hand and waited for it to wake.

It had become a routine now. He broke the phone, waited, and pasted it again only when he needed to check it. It was troublesome, but safer than carrying a live line all day. If someone tried to follow the device, they would be chasing a ghost that only existed when Adam allowed it to exist.

The screen lit up.

One email waited.

Adam opened it while sitting beside the table where half-finished chip batches were arranged in rows. He read the first lines calmly. By the middle, his face changed. By the end, his eyes were hard.

World Zone had started moving.

They were asking about the forest road, Rust Gate, and the route leak. Rovan did not know every detail, but he had understood enough to warn that Tobin was in danger. He also mentioned Bruno as a possible second target.

Adam placed the phone on the table.

"Of course," he muttered.

If they reached Tobin, they would reach Bruno. If they reached Bruno, Gonda’s side would shake. If Bruno panicked and spoke too much, the road might not lead directly to Adam, but it could bend toward Aster Core, toward his false identities, or toward some mistake he had forgotten.

Adam had built distance between his pieces for this exact reason, but distance was not the same as safety. A frightened bridge could still point in the wrong direction. A captured bridge could be forced to point everywhere.

He left the chips unfinished.

Adam changed his outer clothes, took a long route, switched streets twice, and only then entered a public phone booth far from the apartment. He dialed Bruno’s number.

Bruno answered on the third ring.

"Listen carefully," Adam said. "Go underground. Right now. Tell Tobin to do the same. He keeps control of Rust Gate by phone, through loyal men, through fear, however he can, but he does not stand in one open place. Both of your lives are under threat."

"Sir, what happened?"

"Move first. Ask later."

Adam cut the call.

Bruno stared at his phone.

Fear rose first. Then something else came with it. Wil’s side had warned him before danger touched his neck. That meant they were watching wider than he could see.

That meant they could still protect him.

His hands moved faster after that. He locked the room, took the emergency cash from the drawer, and sent two short messages to men who would not ask questions before moving. Only after that did he call Tobin.

He called Tobin immediately.

Tobin answered with noise behind him. Men were talking, some drunk, some angry, some still grieving. Maren’s funeral gathering had not ended yet.

"Why are you calling now?" Tobin asked.

"Leave," Bruno said.

"What?"

"Leave that place quietly and do it now."

Tobin looked across the room. Maren’s picture stood near the wall, surrounded by flowers and bottles. Rust Gate men were everywhere. If he ran like a frightened dog, the chair he had just taken would become weak in one breath.

"I cannot just leave."

"Then die there," Bruno snapped. "The people above me sent warning. If they say move, you move."

Tobin’s throat tightened.

"Where do I go?"

"Anywhere not obvious. Put one loyal man in charge of the room. Tell them you are handling urgent movement after Maren’s death. From now on, command by phone until I tell you otherwise."

Tobin looked at Niko Varr, a younger member who had stayed close after the chair changed. Niko wanted position badly enough to obey.

Tobin waved him over.

"Niko," he said quietly, "from today, you stand as my right hand in the room. I have to move for a job. You repeat my orders, keep the men calm, and tell anyone who asks that I am arranging the next strike."

Niko’s eyes widened with joy he failed to hide.

"Yes, Boss."

Tobin left through the side passage ten minutes later.

The World Zone shooters reached the place shortly after.

They did not enter with guns raised. They watched first, checked the exits, and confirmed the faces inside. Tobin was gone. One of them reported immediately.

One shooter checked the back lane and found the side door still moving slightly in the wind. That told him the miss had not been by hours. It had been by minutes.

The message reached the old man within minutes.

He listened without interrupting.

"Return," he said.

Sella, Idris, and Brant were in the suite when the report came in. Brant’s face showed irritation. Sella looked thoughtful.

"They knew," Idris said.

"Not guessed," Sella added. "Knew. We moved quietly, and the target left before contact."

The old man leaned back.

"Then the other side has a fast information line."

Brant’s voice lowered. "Maybe it is not international but national. A hidden organization already rooted here would explain why it moves faster than us inside this province."

Sella nodded once. "And if they see us as invaders, Maren’s death was not only an attack. It was a warning."

The old man closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them.

"Stop chasing Tobin for now," he said. "Find Bruno alive."

Back in the apartment, Adam returned to the table.

He drank ORS, swallowed one tablet only after reading the strip again, and continued pasting chips. This was the third day of pushing his body like a machine. Three hundred one day. Three hundred ten the next. Now three hundred twenty, then fifteen more after a long rest.

His hands shook by the end.

His head hurt in a way that made light feel sharp. His stomach wanted food, his mouth wanted water, and his arms felt as if someone had filled them with sand. The copied chips lay on the table like proof and accusation at the same time.

Profit was starting to appear. Orders were growing. Aster Core was becoming real.

But Adam could not keep manufacturing the company’s future with his own body.

If demand doubled again, he would not be a founder. He would be a broken machine hidden in a rented room. That was not a business. That was another trap.

He leaned over the table, breathing hard, and stared at the rows of chips.

"I need the factory facts," he whispered. "The machines, the process, everything."

That was the only way forward now.