Tech Hero in Another World

When Ren returned to the inn, his steps halted in front of the door to the room he had rented on the second floor. A strange feeling crept into his mind—a subtle pressure in the air, an indistinct presence that seemed to be waiting in silence.

Carefully, he reached for the doorknob. He didn't open it right away; instead, he pressed his ear against the old wooden surface. Silence—except for the sound of his own heartbeat and... something that couldn't be explained. Slowly, he pushed the door open just a crack and peeked inside.

Kumara was standing with her back to the door, gazing out the window. Her posture looked calm, but Ren could feel that the atmosphere in the room wasn't quite right. He stepped inside, and at that moment, the strange presence that had been cloaking the room suddenly vanished—as if it had evaporated into the air.

"Kumara?"

Kumara turned around quickly, briefly startled, but then smiled. "Ah… Master, you're back!"

Ren narrowed his eyes, trying to read her. He walked over to the window where the young girl had just been standing and looked outside, only to find the streets of Eks as busy as ever—no trace of anything unusual.

"Did someone come in while I was gone?" he asked carefully.

"Mm… no, sir." Kumara replied quickly—too quickly, Ren thought. Her eyes shifted slightly, uneasy, though she tried to hide it behind a calm tone.

Ren stared at her for a moment, eyes scanning her expression carefully. But in the end, he simply let out a quiet sigh. Maybe it was just his nerves playing tricks on him... or maybe not.

"All right. Anyway, we're heading out soon. It's time to attend the sacred ceremony of the Champion—Trek."

"Mm, I understand…" Kumara lowered her head slightly, her eyes revealing a trace of doubt that she couldn't quite hide.

Ren looked at her, then gently patted her shoulder. "I feel like this is the wrong move too… but we don't have any other choice. We have to face this head-on."

He gave her a faint smile, trying to offer some encouragement. "Okay, before we go, let's get something to eat downstairs. What would you like?"

Kumara looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Anything's fine, as long as it's warm."

They made their way down the wooden stairs to the lower floor of the inn, which also served as a bar and communal kitchen. When Ren pushed the door to the dining area open, the small bell above the door chimed softly, announcing their arrival.

That soft chime, for some reason, made Ren's skin crawl. The sound was too sharp—too loud in his ears, like an invisible signal that something was watching them… waiting, hidden among the seemingly ordinary bustle of the city of Eks.

"Hey… there's no way out that way," the man said, his tone flat but firm.

Kumara jolted as if struck by lightning. She turned, and from behind the curtain of long hair, a pair of sharp silver eyes stared back at her.

"That… it's me," she murmured softly, almost without realizing it.

"Hmm… Kitsune?" the man let out a faint snort. "Little girl, do you feel something pulling you in that direction?"

Kumara nodded slightly.

"I suggest… you don't go. If you take another step forward, there will be no way back for you. And you know the consequences could be… fatal."

"But… I…" Kumara's voice trembled, caught between hesitation and curiosity.

"Think carefully," the man said, his tone like a wise elder chastising a pupil. "Is that truly what you want?"

Kumara swallowed. Her curiosity was just as strong as her fear. "Sir… who are you?"

The man lifted his head slightly, revealing a face marked by age and old scars. "Me? Just a nobody. But… you can call me Uncle Freedy."

Suddenly, a faint tremor shook the ground beneath their feet. Dust and fine sand drifted down from the corridor's ceiling. Kumara realized it wasn't an ordinary quake—the battle above in the arena was so fierce its vibrations reached all the way down here.

"Noisy… it's rare for the arena to be this riled up," Freedy muttered. "Is there a duel going on up there?"

Kumara didn't answer. The sound of the chime returned, more urgent now, calling her toward the dark corridor ahead.

"Sorry… but I have to go."

"Hey! Little girl!" Freedy called out. He tried to stop her, but the chains binding him held him in place. His eyes narrowed, and with a low growl, he pulled on them with all his strength. Metal groaned, the wall cracked, and finally… kraaak!—the chain snapped.

Freedy stood, eyes narrowing toward the corridor where Kumara had vanished. "No… if it's that direction… then that place is… the Kyuubi's seal."

---

At the same time, as Kumara's footsteps faded down the dark corridor beneath the colosseum, the arena above roared like an angry mountain.

Ren and Trek stood facing each other, separated by only a few paces that felt like a yawning abyss. The air between them trembled—not just from the deafening cheers of the crowd, but from the crushing battle aura radiating from both sides.

Trek, the massive beastman—half bison, half minotaur—stomped his foot into the ground with raw force, cracking the sandy floor beneath him. His breaths came heavy, hot steam flaring from his nostrils, and his massive horns caught the flicker of the torchlight. His muscles tensed, every fiber looking ready to explode at any moment.

Ren stood tall, wearing only a black tank top and mechanical gauntlets on both hands. Black steel plating etched with lines of blue light ran from his wrists to his knuckles. The gauntlets' cooling system hissed softly, venting steam from the miniature generators embedded within.

Without warning, Trek roared and slammed his foot into the ground, lunging forward with impossible speed for a body that size. Each step sent sand spraying into the air, and in an instant, a fist the size of a human head came hurtling toward Ren.

Ren twisted his body, his right-hand gauntlet glowing blue. He blocked the strike, but the sheer force still pushed him back, his feet grinding across the sand for three whole meters. The shockwave from the impact made spectators in the front row shield their faces from the burst of sand.

Trek didn't give him a moment to breathe. He spun his body, swinging an uppercut toward Ren's jaw. But this time, Ren stepped in—right into the beastman's range. With perfect timing, he switched his gauntlet to kinetic absorber mode, siphoning part of the strike's energy and releasing it in a single palm strike to Trek's chest.

BAAAM!

Trek staggered back, his chest hit by a shockwave that cracked the sandy floor beneath his feet. But instead of falling, he laughed—a deep, resonating sound that echoed through the arena.

"Human… so you do have some bite," he taunted, straightening his posture and rolling his shoulders.

Ren didn't answer. He shifted his stance, lowering his center of gravity. He knew pure strength wouldn't be enough against a monster like this. So, he chose speed, technique, and creativity.

As Trek charged again, Ren leapt to the side, planting a foot against the arena wall before springing over his opponent's head. Spinning midair, he switched his gauntlet to pulse strike mode. His left fist slammed into Trek's temple, accompanied by a burst of blue energy that twisted the beastman's head slightly to the side.

The crowd erupted, but Ren didn't stop. He landed behind Trek, using his momentum to drive an energy-empowered kick into the back of the beastman's knee. Trek's massive frame wavered, but once again, his durability was like living steel.

With a growl, Trek spun and swept his arm toward Ren like he was felling a tree. Ren ducked, using the opening to grab one of Trek's horns and yank it forward, driving his knee into the beastman's jaw.

The impact was enough to draw a thin line of fresh blood from the corner of Trek's mouth. The beastman simply wiped it away with the back of his hand before straightening again. His wide grin twisted into a wild expression of pure excitement and rage.

"Good… YEAH! It's been a long time since someone's made me fight with my whole heart!" His voice boomed through the colosseum, vibrating in the spectators' chests. "Let's go… until one of us is dead!"

His words were punctuated by a thunderous clench of both fists. The muscles in his arms bulged, veins rising beneath the skin, and a burning crimson glow spread from his shoulders down to his fingertips—as if his very blood was boiling.

Ren didn't stay idle. Lowering his head slightly, his eyes narrowed, and he channeled power into his advanced gauntlets. The once-dim blue glow flared bright, arcs of fine lightning crackling in the air. The sand around his feet trembled, lifting slightly under the rush of energy.

Without a signal, they both surged forward at once. Their speed was like two meteors on a collision course.

DUUUM!

Their fists met in the center of the arena—the explosive force of the clash slamming into the front rows, knocking some spectators right off their seats. The shockwave swept across the arena, shaking the stone pillars and making the torches whip wildly.

The ground around the impact point shattered, cracks spiderwebbing outward. Sand and dust billowed into the air, swirling in a vortex around them.