Night descended upon the city like a giant steel blanket. The hospital was silent. Trung sat by the window, the moonlight reflecting off the mechanical leg the device that had both saved and imprisoned him.
The wind whistled through the gap in the window. Then he heard another sound a low frequency, like a voice speaking inside his mind. A deep, cold voice, steady like a robot:
"We know you're alive, Trần Trung. You have been chosen for the gift of the century. We can give you power... if you cooperate."
Trung looked around. There was no one. The sound originated from the very circuitry of the prosthetic leg. He squinted, giving a faint smile:
"A gift? Do you give gifts with shackles?"
The voice continued, cold as metal:
"No more war, no more weakness. We will enter the Era of Rebirth. You should be proud, Trần Trung. You were chosen."
Trung pulled out a small knife and stabbed it directly into the leg's control panel. Blue electricity sparked.
"History doesn't need slave masters."
The system went dark. The lights in the room flickered, then quieted. But outside, the cyberspace roared. Millions of signals swept through the national security system, searching for Trần Trung. Potential target.
From a control room in Switzerland, Vạn Sinh's Director, Tử Nhãn (Purple Eye), looked up at the screen, his red eyes refracting through thousands of lines of code:
"Test Subject 01 is still resisting. Let him believe he is free. The more he resists, the greater the energy."
In Vietnam, Professor Khải received an alert. He looked at the warning device in his room Trung's circuitry had just emitted an out of control signal.
"Impossible... they managed to infiltrate?"
He rushed to the hospital immediately. The room was empty. The window was wide open, the curtain billowing like a wing. Trung had left.
At an old subway station deep beneath Saigon:
Trung, clad in a black trench coat, walked with echoing metallic steps. He opened a holo-map in his hand red dots appeared, marking Vạn Sinh's underground facilities across Asia. Each dot was a wound in the world's soul. He looked at the photo of his wife and children on a small screen, whispering:
"Mai... I am no longer just your man. I must be the one to stand in front of them."
At the same time, in the national security zone, Nguyễn Lâm received a Code Red call.
"Lâm, Subject Trung just left the hospital."
"Where did he go?"
"Unknown. But he is accessing Vạn Sinh's data through a hidden channel. He doesn't know that his every move is being tracked."
"Then let me be the first tracker. He's not a traitor he's just fighting in his own way."
That night, Trung walked through the city. Beneath his feet, holo-lights cast a pale blue glow, like the bronze drum light from a dream. With every step, the sound of metal mingled with his heartbeat.
He knew they were closing in. And he also knew he had truly been chosen. Not by them, but by the very oath of a thousand years finding its way back into his blood.
"If anyone still dares to stand up for this country,
then the Oath of the Land and River has never slept."