My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible Chapter 566 It's Coming Back

For almost two days, the comment section flowed sluggishly, yet the viewer count surged constantly, with tens of thousands of newcomers joining an audience that had never truly dispersed.

The initial torrent of rapid-fire comments from the first few hours had subsided, replaced by a collective atmosphere of watching and awaiting developments.

New discussion threads continued to emerge, and analyses were still being compiled. However, the pace of the scroll had slowed considerably, allowing viewers to actually read the posts, and most opted for reading over typing.

Then, a simple post appeared: three words.

“Look at Diego.”

The comment section reacted to the shift almost instantaneously, even before most viewers could fully comprehend the message.

“Wait.”

“Wait, wait, wait.”

“What is that?”

Someone, who had been glued to the stream for forty-seven consecutive hours without any sleep, typed with hands that trembled uncontrollably: “Is that his leg? IS THAT HIS LEG?”

The scroll’s speed increased dramatically. Within mere seconds, it had surpassed the point where individual comments were discernible, transforming the section into a single, blurred texture of text rather than a collection of distinct voices.

Yet, the individual voices persisted, and some cut through the digital din with startling clarity.

A medical professional, who had diligently posted technical observations every few hours over the past two days, abandoned all scientific jargon: “TISSUE. TISSUE IS FORMING AT THE AMPUTATION SITE.”

Another user exclaimed: “The shape of a knee. You can see a knee shape beginning to form. That’s a knee. It’s HIS knee.”

“I’ve been awake for 31 hours watching this stream and I’m not moving from this screen until I see him stand up.”

A verified account boasting two hundred million followers shared a single image—a screenshot from the stream focused on Diego’s leg, clearly showing the nascent tissue at the residual limb’s end, the regrowth just beginning. No accompanying text was provided.

The post garnered four million likes in under ninety seconds.

The comment section continued its flow.

“He’s watching it happen. Look at his face. He can’t tear his eyes away.”

“His hands are shaking.”

“Marco isn’t translating anything right now, and he doesn’t need to.”

A comment read: “I keep contemplating the internal experience. To feel something lost returning. To have a body part absent for three years begin transmitting signals again. I lack the framework for this. Nobody does. This has never occurred for a human being until today.”

Replies began to flood the thread beneath that post, with individuals attempting to construct conceptual frameworks. Phantom limb pain in reverse. The sensation of a dormant limb awakening, magnified beyond comprehension. Perceiving a sound only previously encountered in descriptions.

None of these attempts felt adequate, and most participants acknowledged this limitation.

A user, who had remained entirely silent throughout the stream, posted for the first time: “My son lost both legs at nineteen. He’s thirty-four now. He’s watching this stream from his bedroom, and he called me twenty minutes ago; neither of us could speak. We just stayed on the line.”

This post amassed six hundred thousand likes within the minute. The subsequent replies offered neither solace nor analysis; instead, they conveyed a quiet understanding, the kind that arises when no further words are needed.

The comment section experienced another lull, nearly falling silent, when Marco’s translation finally came through the audio feed.

“He says he can feel them returning.”

The silence persisted for approximately four seconds—an eternity in the context of the real-time scroll—before erupting anew.

“HE CAN FEEL THEM!”

“The nerves. The nerves are connected. The nerves are already functioning.”

“He said *returning*. Not growing. *Returning*. As if they were meant to be there all along, and now they are.”

A user initiated a thread that gained traction faster than any other since the initial event: “Let me explain what ‘returning’ signifies medically. Nerve pathways must exist before sensation is possible. You cannot feel a limb to which there is no nerve connection. The fact that he is experiencing sensation indicates the nanites have successfully regenerated functional nerve tissue from the amputation site towards the point where the pathway previously terminated. This is in under forty-eight hours. I need everyone to grasp the implications. The nerve tissue is present. It exists. It is functioning. He can feel his legs.”

Among thousands of responses within the reply thread, a single line appeared from a user who hadn't commented before and wouldn't comment again: “I have a spinal cord injury. I haven’t felt my legs in eleven years. I watched this post three times before I could type anything.”

In a Seoul living room, four individuals were gathered around a television.

A mother, a father, their adult daughter, and the daughter’s husband.

The daughter had been born with a condition that had shaped her entire existence in the distinct manner characteristic of congenital ailments.

She had applied for the trial but was not selected.

The family had gathered to watch the livestream, a shared experience preferable to solitary viewing, and no one had voiced a desire to stop.

The daughter, tucked beneath her legs, felt her mother's hand settle on her knee as they both observed Diego's left leg gradually reforming from its endpoint outwards.

Silence stretched for a considerable time before the daughter softly murmured, directed to everyone and no one in particular, "Hopefully, the next trial."

Her mother's grip on her knee intensified.

"Yes," her mother affirmed. "The next trial."

The comment section continued its relentless flow.

If anything, it surged past the peak of the first deployment as the intricate tissue construction became more apparent, the knee's shape undeniable. Viewers who had been tuned in for two days began calling their families, and the audience count continued its meteoric rise.

I called my mother. She's observing now.

My entire hospital floor is watching via someone's phone – surgeons, nurses, orderlies, even a patient who emerged from their room drawn by the commotion.

Possessing no medical or scientific background, I've watched this man for two days and feel as though I'm witnessing what the word 'miracle' was conceived for, a term finally rendered appropriate.

A user shared: Diego consented to the livestream because he wished for people to bear witness. This thought resonates deeply. He deliberately chose to be observed, desiring this moment to be shared. Lying on a bed on the moon, watching his legs regenerate, he elected to allow six billion people to watch alongside him. That decision is an integral part of what we are witnessing, as vital to the spectacle as any other element.

Another user responded: He wanted people to see. I believe he's offering us something profound.