BIOLOGICAL SUPERCOMPUTER SYSTEM

Chapter 891: Lucius Romano (2)

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As Erik stepped into the completed wing of the hospital, the sterile smell of antiseptic washed over him, a stark contrast to the dusty construction site outside.

The interior was a hive of activity, yet it lacked the technological sophistication one might expect.

The corridors echoed with the soft hum of conversation and the occasional beep of a monitor, but the usual hustle of modern machinery was conspicuously absent.

No vending machines stood in the corners, nor were there the typical clusters of high-tech equipment.

Instead, anxious individuals filled the space, sitting on simple chairs lined against the walls, awaiting news about their wounded family members.

Their eyes darted to the swinging doors at the end of the hall, their faces etched with concern. Hospital staff set up a bar in one corner, selling beverages and food to weary family members. Erik was deep in his thoughts when one of his clones approached, snapping him back to the present with a respectful “Master.”

“We’ve been awaiting your arrival,” the clone said, his voice full of sorrow and anguish. Erik’s gaze sharpened. “Where is he? Where is dad?”

“On the second floor, sir. Room 207. We’ve made him as comfortable as possible.”

They headed to the second floor, passing through less-crowded hallways. The clone kept pace beside Erik, mirroring his brisk walk.

“How is the situation?” Erik asked, dreading the answer.

“It’s not good, Master. We lack skilled doctors, and the medical equipment here is, at best, rudimentary. It’s still being sourced or developed. We don’t have healers either.”

The thought of his father’s suffering made Erik’s throat constrict, especially due to the poor care he was receiving. But he knew it wasn’t these guys’ fault.

“Does that mean he’s… dying?” Erik’s voice cracked.

“Master,” the clone said. “Noah briefly told us what happened to da- your father. He underwent long and extensive torture sessions; they cut off his legs, among other things. He doesn’t even have teeth and nails anymore. He is in a terrible state, and unfortunately, a lot of wounds got infected.”

The clone paused before saying anything, “It’s a possibility we cannot ignore, Master. Without the necessary medical intervention, his chances are slim.”

Erik felt his heart stop. It was weird; after all those years of hating him, knowing that his father was going to die made his soul cry in agony.

The man who had seemed invincible to him as a child, the figure who had cast such a long shadow over an entire nation, Lucius Romano, the invincible warrior, was now fighting for his life in a half-built hospital.

The two arrived on the second floor, and soon after they arrived at room 207, the clone stopped, gesturing towards the door. “He’s in there, Master.”

Erik nodded, bracing himself for what he was about to see. The clone briefly entered the room, leaving Erik outside, and then he left with a woman, likely the nurse of this place. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. June stayed outside. Erik’s hand trembled as he reached for the doorknob, the cool metal offering no comfort for what lay beyond.

A single bulb hanging overhead bathed a stark room in a harsh light as the door creaked open. The white bed in the center seemed too large for the figure that lay upon it- a man who once stood tall and unyielding now appeared fragile and shrunken under thin blankets.

Lucius Romano’s body was a tapestry of scars and fresh wounds, each bandage a testament to his suffering.

His skin was pallid, almost translucent, stretched over bones that were far too prominent. Once full of vigor, Lucius’s face had become drawn and gaunt, revealing hollows where the strength of life once lived. His streaked white hair lay limp against his forehead, and his once powerful hands lay motionless by his sides, the fingers wrapped in gauze.

Yet, amidst this image of defeat, his eyes were startlingly alive.

They flickered with an inner fire that pain and suffering hadn’t extinguished.

When those eyes met Erik’s, a spark of recognition flickered within them—a father’s recognition of his son.

For a moment, that gaze suspended all the complexities of their relationship, conveying a lifetime of emotions in a single look.

A tear traced its way down Lucius’s cheek, not of pain but of something deeper-a mixture of regret, relief, and a father’s pride.

Of course, he learned about what his son had accomplished in the past few years.

Noah, Amber, and even Becker told him about his extraordinary feats.

On the contrary, despite the many questions Becker and the others asked him, the man said nothing.

Noah told him he was a clone of his son; Becker told him they knew what Erik could do, but he said nothing, almost as if he didn’t trust them, despite one being a copy of his son and the other being his own best friend.

Erik felt a lump in his throat, but he didn’t cry. No, instead, rage shimmered under that worried face.

Still, the room seemed to close in around him, the steady sound of his father’s breathing punctuating the heavy silence.

“Erik!”

Lucius raised his bandaged hand, asking for his son to take his hand. Stepping forward, Erik moved to the bedside, taking his father’s bandaged hand in his.

It was frail, not as robust as he remembered from childhood. Yet the warmth of his father’s

skin was the same.

“You came…”

“I came.”

“How are you? How do you feel?”

“Without legs… But, you know, I got used to it, hahahaha ha ha ha COUGH, COUGH, COUGH.”

“Don’t force yourself to talk. You will make the situation worse.”

“I know, but now that you are here, there are a lot of things we must talk about.”

“I figured you wanted to tell me what that thing is.”

Lucius paused for a second.

“I learned from Noah, that weird human worm who said it was a clone of yours, that you

absorbed it, or rather, that it parasitized you.”

“It did.”