The Batcave Alarm, and Bruce's "Invasion"!

Wayne Enterprises Tower, deep underground.

The Batcave.

On the massive Batcomputer screen, surveillance footage from the top-floor conference room played on a loop.

Bruce Wayne's face was grim. He wasn't wearing the armor that struck fear into so many hearts.

He wore only a black, form-fitting combat suit that traced the hard lines of his muscles.

Again and again, he zoomed in on the instant he shook Link's hand.

Link's expression was flawless.

Confident, polished, with just the right touch of businesslike enthusiasm.

Bruce pulled up the data from the miniature sensors built into his armored glove.

Heart rate: 72 beats per minute, as steady as a metronome.

Skin conductance response: No abnormalities.

Muscle pressure feedback: Relaxed, natural.

Every reading suggested that Link was just an ordinary young man in good physical condition.

But Bruce Wayne's instincts, honed to a feral edge by countless brushes with death, were screaming.

Something was wrong.

From the instant that hand touched his, he had felt as though something had "invaded" him.

Not physically. Not digitally.

It was something deeper, as if the very essence of his being had been thoroughly "scanned" by some unknown means.

The feeling made his skin crawl.

"Alfred." Bruce's voice was low and hoarse.

"I'm here, Master Bruce."

The loyal old butler appeared silently behind him, carrying a steaming cup of black tea.

"Must I remind you that you've been staring at that footage for thirty-seven minutes? Even the Mona Lisa's smile wouldn't hold up to that sort of scrutiny."

Bruce didn't turn around. His eyes remained fixed on Link's smiling face on the screen.

"Track every flow of money connected to Chaos Direction and Link himself. I want to know where every penny he's spent has gone since our meeting ended."

"I'm afraid I have disappointing news, Master Bruce."

For the first time, a note of confusion entered Alfred's voice.

"Twenty minutes ago, an anonymous offshore entity owned by Chaos Direction completed a major cross-border acquisition."

He handed Bruce a tablet.

On its screen was the profile of a German company.

"Prometheus Mechanical. It had promising work in bionic prosthetics and neural interfaces, but went bankrupt when its funding collapsed. Link's company bought it outright for ninety-three million euros."

"That fast?"

Bruce frowned.

Less than an hour had passed between their meeting and the completed acquisition. Even Wayne Enterprises would have needed to navigate a complicated process to move that quickly.

"Which account did the money come from? Switzerland or the Cayman Islands?"

"That's the problem, Master Bruce."

Alfred adjusted his glasses, the computer screen reflected in their lenses.

"There was no flow of funds."

"What do you mean?" Bruce finally turned to face his butler.

"Exactly what I said."

Alfred's expression grew graver than Bruce had ever seen it.

"We monitor nearly every banking settlement system and cryptocurrency network in the world. But that money... had no source."

"It wasn't transferred out of any known bank, trust fund, or digital wallet. It simply... appeared."

"The German side confirmed receipt of the full amount, and the transaction is legally valid. But in our financial world, the payer is a 'ghost.'"

A deathly silence settled over the Batcave.

Only the hum of countless servers remained, like the whispering of demons.

Bruce Wayne slowly rose to his feet.

He looked at Link's young face on the screen. A chill climbed his spine and spread through every limb.

At last, he understood what kind of monster he was facing.

A chess player with a brilliant mind and a ruthless will.

A fighter with all of Bruce's combat skills and a strange, chaotic power.

And now he had... virtually limitless wealth, conjured from nowhere and impossible to trace.

This wasn't a business tactic.

This wasn't Hacking Technology.

This was... power that belonged to gods.

He could buy any company he wanted without spilling a drop of blood, recruit any talent he wanted, and build an army armed to the teeth with the most advanced technology.

And Bruce couldn't even weaken him by cutting off his funding.

How did you fight an enemy who could print his own money—and not just one currency, but every currency in the world?

"Alfred."

Bruce's voice was cold, stripped of all emotion.

"Raise Link's threat level to the highest classification—'Endgame.'"

"Activate the Watchtower protocol. Put him under round-the-clock physical and digital surveillance, with no blind spots. I want to know every breath he takes, every beat of his heart, and every word he says."

"Gotham City has a new player."

"An enemy... who's more like Batman than I am, and more dangerous than the Joker."