The rain had ceased. Ba Vi still smelled of damp earth and scorched energy. The sacred mountain lay silent, as if hiding a secret within its stone. Three days passed, and no one found Trung's body.
International media coldly concluded: "Lac Hon has been erased from the global energy map."
But the soldiers who were there spoke differently. When the final lightning faded, they heard bronze drums from deep underground, beating steady like a human heart. At that same moment, across Vietnam, strange signs appeared.
A bronze drum in the History Museum resonated on its own, untouched. At Hung Temple, Nghia Linh Mountain glowed lam-blue exactly at 3:33 a.m.
The Red River shimmered like silver under the moon. A young soldier stood at Ba Vi's foot, whispering to the wind:
"Where… is he?"
No answer. Only the scent of earth after rain, and an empty ache both gentle and painful.
Deep within Ba Vi, where Viet Linh had once blazed, Trung drifted. No body. No time. Only consciousness flowing among Mai's laughter, Tung and Lan's cries of "Dad!", comrades falling, and the echo of bronze drums. A lam white light opened softly.
A deep voice, ancient yet near:
"You have sacrificed for the land. Now… rise with the land."
Before him, figures appeared warriors in bronze armor, mothers carrying children into battle, common folk with bare hands but bright eyes. No words, yet their gaze lifted him. Trung knelt, breathing as if for the first time.
"Who… are you?"
"We are you. You are us. The soul of the nation does not die. It waits for one with enough heart to call its name."
Lac Long Quan stepped forth from the light, followed by the Hung Kings, Hai Bà Trưng, Tran Hung Dao, Quang Trung… stars drawing near.
"Son of the age of steel," Lac Long Quan spoke, "Take our strength. Do not let anyone erase the memory of this land."
A surge of lam white energy entered Trung. Flesh and blood returned no machine, no steel only a body forged by the Vietnamese soul. On his chest appeared the mark: Infinite Vietnamese Soul.
Trung whispered, afraid to break the sacred moment:
"I… only want to go home."
"Go," the ancestors' voices warmed like a hearth. "And remember, your home is also this nation."
In Geneva, Tu Nhan smashed the console.
"Impossible! He no longer has mechanical energy… Then what is operating?!"
Screens flickered biological energy surpassing nuclear thresholds. A trembling aide stammered:
"That source… is the collective will of a nation!"
Tu Nhan sneered, cold as steel:
"Then I will erase that nation. Activate Helios Protocol Eye of the Sun. Target wipe Indochina."
Hanoi, Hue, Saigon received evacuation orders. Strategic satellites shifted orbit, charging solar beams for a strike in 24 hours.
In the Defense bunker, maps pulsed red. General Pham Huy Tin rasped:
"If he still lives… only he can stop it."
Colonel Huyen met his eyes:
"And if he is dead… then we go with him."
No one spoke further. The ticking clock echoed like footsteps on a lonely pass. As Helios gathered its beam in the stratosphere, the northern sky split with a lam streak. Bronze drums thundered across the nation from Nghe An to the Northwest, from the East Sea to Truong Son.
A voice, not through speakers, but entering every heart:
"This is Trung… Son of Mother Earth, man of the steel age. I am no longer a warrior. I am the soul of us all."
From the clouds, Trung appeared. Behind him spread energy wings shaped like dragon and Lac bird. In his hand, Viet Linh shone like a flag. He swung the blade. Lam light cleaved the sky.
The Sun Beam split in two, dissolving into showers of light, falling like blossoms. On the ground, people knelt unbidden. An old woman clasped her hands:
"Lord… no, Ancestors…"
A child whispered:
"Daddy… he came back."
Helios dissolved, its heat turning to mist. But Trung's body began to fade, lam ash in the wind. Professor An rushed, embracing him, eyes blurred like cracked glass:
"Trung! You did it! But… you are disappearing!"
Trung smiled, weary yet gentle:
"I am not dying… I am only returning to the nation."
An gripped his hand:
"Let me be selfish once… Stay, Trung."
"Teacher… don't remember me as a machine that saved the world. Remember me as a Vietnamese who tried to keep us from losing each other."
Wind swept through the forest gate. Lam ash glittered in An's hair. Far away, Tung and Lan stood with the guard unit. The children seemed to hear a whisper meant only for them:
"Lan, don't hate Dad anymore. Tung, to be a man is first to be human. Dad is home… in your heartbeats."
They did not cry aloud. They held hands, nodding as if they understood. Trung looked once more toward Hanoi. He spoke softly, words the whole nation would remember:
"For the People unsheath. For Vietnam into battle."
Lam light spread. He dissolved into earth, flowed through rivers, soared over rooftops, sprouted in every seedling. Wherever there were Vietnamese, a spark lit in their hearts.
A year later, the nation revived. On Ba Vi's summit, a new temple rose, carved with four words:
The Vietnamese Soul Is Eternal.
Colonel Huyen and Professor An stood before the stele. Mist hovered. Bronze drums beat faintly somewhere. Huyen's voice trembled yet proud:
"If history asks who stopped the sun from falling on Vietnam… We answer: the Vietnamese."
Professor An laid his hand on the stone, as if on a child's brow:
"He did not vanish. He is present in every heartbeat of ours."
In the courtyard, Tung carried his sister. Lan looked up at the clouds, smiling stubbornly:
"Dad is just late."
Wind from Ba Vi swept down plains, through streets, over rooftops. In it, a distant drumbeat both mournful and proud.
The old laboratory lay silent, like a beautiful tomb. On the desk, the lam core An had kept for months trembled, glowing.
A voice, small and warm:
"Teacher… Are they alright?"
An wept, laughing through tears:
"They are alright, Trung. You may rest… or keep watch, in your way."
Silence. The lam glow faded. But from Ba Vi's peak, a lam streak like a shooting star tore the night, flying toward the sea. People called it the Viet Linh Star a star that appears only when the nation needs a miracle.
"The soul of the nation does not lie in the past, but lives in everyone who dares to rise for one another."