“No,” Leo whispered. That wasn't a software crash. That was a physical instruction. The Tegra X1 was being told to short its own power rails.

Leo’s blood chilled. “They” meant Kyoto. Nintendo’s internal security group—not lawyers, but engineers who treated reverse-engineering as a personal insult.

His phone buzzed. A text from his partner, Mira: “They know. Pack up.”

Boot signature verified. He was in.

Below it: “We see you, Leo. The check-in was successful. Thank you for validating our new telemetry. Your location has been noted. Please do not turn off your console.”

Leo stared at the dead, smoking Switch on his bench. Then at his laptop. The BIOS file was still there. But now, a tiny green LED on his interceptor board—the one he hadn't designed—was blinking.