The days that followed saw Trần Trung living as a man standing between two frontiers. One side was the world of medicine, wires, and cold light, where every breath was measured by numbers. The other was the vague world of ancient drum sounds, wind whistling through fields, and the shadowy figures in iron armor marching through the mist.
Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw himself standing in the middle of a battlefield. The sky was ash gray, the ground stained with red blood, and the neighing of horses echoed through the fog. He held a blade inscribed with the two words SÁT THÁT, but the blade was not stained with blood it shone like an oath.
When he woke up, sweat soaked his back.
Professor Phạm Minh Khải arrived every afternoon, bringing a tool kit, data tablets, and densely covered sketches of formulas. He was as patient as a jeweler polishing a gem, his hands trembling yet precise.
The first test took place three days later. The room was pristine white, the smell of disinfectant mingling with static electricity. Khải attached sensors to the neural system in his thigh. Electricity flowed, and indicator lights blinked.
"Stand up, Trung!"
Khải spoke, his voice slightly trembling. Trung tried to stand, his nerve pathways jolted, his skin taut like a bowstring. Every step felt like treading on knives. But Trung did not fall. He clenched his teeth, beads of sweat dropping onto the floor, mixing with the metallic scent. Each drop was a heartbeat, confirming he was alive.
"Good... balance... Excellent!"
Professor Khải nearly shouted. The whole room was silent. The sound of rain pattered outside. In the light, Trung stood tall. Half man, half steel. In that moment, Khải no longer saw a patient in him, but a symbol.
"How do you feel?"
"It feels like thousands of people are walking with me." Trung replied, his voice deep and warm. Khải smiled, his eyes twinkling:
"That might be true. Because some people are born to walk for others."
Day after day passed. Trung gradually adapted to his new body. He practiced walking around the institute's yard every morning, the rhythmic tapping of his metal foot on the pavement like the clock of a changing era.
People looked at him with a mixture of fear and admiration. Children ran after him, shouting:
"It's Sát Thát Guy!"
Trung smiled gently, then fell silent. Across the global network, his image spread throughout the holo verse. People created virtual statues, paintings, and songs named "The Sát Thát Warrior." But there were also cynics:
"A self-proclaimed hero. A media pawn."
"The distance from saving people to rebellion is just one step of recklessness."
The press attacked public opinion split into two camps. But Trung remained silent. He only read the tiny comments left by the city's poor:
"If you can still walk, walk for those who cannot."
One afternoon, as the sunset slanted, Lieutenant Colonel Nguyễn Lâm came looking for him. His face was weary, his eyes heavy from sleepless nights.
"We have new information," Lâm said, placing a thick dossier on the table. "We found something strange in the gang's hideout that night not a weapon, but a biological sample."
"A biological sample?" Trung frowned.
"Yes. It seems to be a regenerative gene. In the files, the name Vạn Sinh appeared multiple times."
A chill ran down Trung's spine. He remembered the voice of the leader that night the syllables mixed with foreign speech, "the bloodline has not died out."
"We suspect they are researching the genetic regeneration of ancient humans," Lâm continued. "Strength, reflexes, genetic memory. And you... are the first person on their list to record an antagonistic event. They might have been tracking you for a long time."
Trung was silent, his gaze cold.
"And if that's true, what are they doing?"
"Perhaps... turning humans into tools."
Trung looked out the window, where the sunset flooded the sky, red like blood.
"If they want to regenerate humanity, they will forget that the soul cannot be cloned."
Lâm nodded, his look heavy.
"Are you planning to do anything?"
"Go find them." Trung replied briefly.
"You can't! You are being monitored. You are a symbol, a target."
"If no one stops them, no one will be human anymore."
Lâm fell silent. He understood. There are some people... who cannot be stopped.