Tech Hero in Another World

"Watching over me?" Kumara asked, her voice trembling as she stood by the window, staring at the small white fox that had now leapt lightly onto the wooden floor.

"Yes…" the fox replied without hesitation, stepping closer to her feet. Its voice echoed directly in Kumara's mind, without its mouth ever moving. "You are the only one who can free me."

Kumara furrowed her brows. "Free you? What do you mean? Aren't you… the reason for all the hatred toward our kind? Because of you, Kitsune are seen as a curse."

The little fox chuckled softly, its tone more amused than mocking, yet still gentle. "Hohoho~… You're mistaken. It's not hatred—it's fear. Fear of what cannot be controlled."

The fox then hopped onto the bed, sitting upright like a tiny person. Its eyes glowed softly, yet carried a commanding weight as it looked at Kumara.

"In the age when gods still ruled the world, I was one of them. The most admired. I was wise, charming, a role model—and of course… immensely powerful."

Kumara swallowed hard, her body frozen.

"My power grew naturally, Kumara," it continued. "I drew nourishment from the world itself. The longer I lived, the stronger I became. Power without limit is never welcomed by other gods—it is feared."

"And that's why… they sealed you?" Kumara guessed.

"Correct. The high gods imprisoned my true form in the nearby mountain—you now call it Penal. But they still allowed me one medium… an Avatar. This little fox form. A fragment of myself, free to wander and enjoy the world."

Kumara frowned. "But… the legends say our kind was the one who released your seal."

"Yup… and that's true. But that decision came from me." It gave a sly smile. "Kumara, back then… I had a friend. A young god. Weak, but full of potential. He didn't know who I really was. To him, I was just a clever, amusing fox spirit."

"I helped him, guided him, protected him. But in the end… he surpassed even my expectations. He outgrew me—in wisdom, strength, and even in the eyes of the other gods. Did it hurt? Of course. I… was jealous."

Kumara sighed. "So… you broke your own seal… just out of jealousy?"

The little fox didn't deny it. "I wanted to show them who I really was. That I wasn't obsolete. That I… was more than they imagined."

It closed its eyes briefly, then opened them again.

"Unfortunately… everything fell apart." The fox's voice grew heavier, contrasting with its small, cute body. "The power of my true form was too great… sealed away for too long. I lost control. I destroyed so much—including the trust of those who once called me a friend."

Kumara stood still, frozen in confusion. She didn't know whether to feel fear, anger, or pity. Everything she had heard since childhood now seemed shattered… distorted.

She bit her lip, then summoned the courage to ask, "So… why do you want to be free again? Haven't you caused enough destruction?"

The fox chuckled softly, its voice like a breeze in the night—soothing, yet suspicious. "That's an easy answer, Kumara… I'm bored."

"Bored?" Kumara echoed in disbelief.

"Yes. Even gods get bored, you know?" it said casually, rolling over on the bed. "Kumara, even though my true body is sealed, I still have one privilege—one avatar, one form I can inhabit freely. From this small body, I've watched the world spin out of control. There used to be balance. Now? This world is filthy."

The fox's eyes narrowed. "Negative energy saturates the air. Ambition, hatred, greed… all accumulating. Even here in this city, I can feel it clinging to the walls like soot."

It stood upright, tail swaying gently. "And I'm thankful to be in this little body. Because if I used my true form… I would have razed this land long ago. Destroyed everything. And rebuilt a new world from the ashes."

Kumara clenched her teeth. "And what makes you think I would help you do all that?"

The fox raised an eyebrow, amused. "Tsk tsk tsk… You have a mature way of thinking for someone your age, Kumara. But don't you already know? What it's like to be alienated in a crowd? The way people look at you… as if you carry a sin you don't even understand?"

Kumara fell silent. Those words… hurt, because they were true.

"Yes, it all started because of me," the fox continued in a softer voice. "But must their hatred be passed down through generations? Should fear become a legacy for innocent children like you?"

Kumara clasped her hands to her chest, her breath heavy. She knew… she did carry a burden for a sin she never committed.

"Think, Kumara…" whispered the fox, now gentler, almost coaxing. "I'm here before you because this is also part of your deepest desire… to be understood, to be seen… and to change everything."

And this time, Kumara couldn't respond right away.

---

Ren walked slowly through the bustling streets of Eks, weaving through crowds of merchants, beggars, and armed soldiers. His eyes were sharp, scanning every corner and narrow alley between the packed, aging stone buildings. Though he could've asked for help—especially from old contacts who might still reside in the city—Ren chose to do this alone. Too many variables. Too much risk if his secret got out.

He sat down on a cold stone near the night market, holding a skewer of grilled monster meat common in the Penal plains—still steaming with a savory aroma.

Just as he took a bite of the last piece, a distant scream slipped through the narrow alley at the far end of the market. It wasn't just any scream—there was desperation and fear in the voice of a child, followed by the guttural growl of an adult man.

Ren stood up, eyes narrowing. He tossed the skewer to the ground, dusted off his jacket, and walked toward the alley—unhurried. He didn't intervene immediately, instead hiding in the shadow of a rusted metal drum, listening in on a conversation that quickly piqued his interest.

"Hey! Look at me when I'm talking to you, brat!" growled the perpetrator—a Frogman, a humanoid creature with slick green skin and bulging eyes. He wore a tattered jacket and a chain around his waist, gripping the collar of a small child roughly.

It's worth noting that Eks wasn't solely inhabited by beastmen. Non-human races like orcs, frogmen, goblins, and even hybrids lived side-by-side—though peaceful coexistence was rare.

The child—no older than twelve, with pointed ears and the silver hair typical of Werewolves—was trembling.

"Y-yes! I just… I just wanted a little bread…!"

The Frogman snorted angrily. "You've stolen from me too many times, and I've been patient. But today, I'm in a foul mood. And you just made it worse."

"I'm sorry… But I needed it for my brother…"

"Your brother? That loser?" the Frogman sneered, slapping the boy's head roughly. "Hahaha! I know him. Used to be a great wanderer, yeah. But also a traitor to his kind! Challenged Trek, the reigning Champion, in an open duel?"

The Frogman's voice grew louder, filled with mockery. "Your brother lost disgracefully! Lost an arm and only lived because Lord Trek showed him mercy! If it were me, I'd have buried him outside the city walls!"

Ren's hand clenched tightly, but he remained still, waiting for the right moment. His eyes tracked every movement carefully. (So… someone once challenged Trek and lived to tell the tale. Even if he lost, that's not something to dismiss.)

His fingers instinctively brushed against the plasma glove at his waist. A soft metallic click echoed as he flipped a hidden switch inside the palm, priming the energy system.

Meanwhile, the Frogman—still clutching his rusty sword—stepped closer with growing aggression. "So, where is he now? Living in shame? If I were him, I'd have killed myself long ago… AUGH!"

His words were cut short when the young werewolf suddenly scratched his hand with sharp little claws. It didn't cut deep, but it drew blood.

"Don't speak badly about my brother!" the boy shouted, his eyes blazing.

The Frogman snarled. "You little—"

Before his sword could fully rise, Ren stepped in between them, his gait calm but commanding.

"That's enough," he said plainly, stopping the Frogman's hand before it could move further.

The creature glared. "Hey, who the hell are you? This isn't your business!"

"Sorry, sir. But I don't think this is the time or place to do something that could bring trouble for a lot of people."

The Frogman took a step back, then scoffed. "Move aside, hero. Or do you want a taste too?"

Ren tilted his head, his shoulders relaxed. "…No."

"Oh, fine then." Without warning, the Frogman lunged, swinging his sword fast and hard at Ren.

BZZZTTT!

The sound of energy clashing rang out as the blade struck an invisible shield radiating from Ren's plasma glove. Blue sparks scattered through the air as the energy field deflected the strike flawlessly.

Ren stood his ground without flinching. His gaze was calm—almost mocking.

"I believe… I said no."

The Frogman froze, bewildered. His eyes flicked toward the glove, now glowing a soft blue.

"Tch… bastard…" he muttered, backing off. Fear was creeping past his arrogance.

Ren turned to the young werewolf now hiding behind a stone pillar. "You alright?"

The boy nodded quietly. "Thank you…"

Ren gave a slight nod in return, then faced the now-hesitant Frogman once more.

"One more step, and I'll consider it a formal duel challenge."

That was enough. The Frogman finally sheathed his sword and walked off, grumbling and spitting on the ground.

Ren exhaled softly. "There's always one idiot in every city," he muttered.