Tech Hero in Another World-Chapter 140: [139] Early action as a Superhero (11)

Ren remained seated beneath the large tree, slumped weakly with his knees drawn to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around them. The night wind whispered softly, carrying a cold stillness that sank deep into his bones. Above him, starlight scattered across the sky—clear, as if the heavens had no idea that the earth had just endured hell a few hours ago.

While his body felt heavy, his spirit was even more fragile. In his eyes, reflecting that sky, there shimmered the raw edges of wounds not yet healed. One simple question played on repeat in his mind: Why? Why did this have to happen? Why him—a regular kid—why did he have to witness someone like Fujisawa... fall?

He didn’t move for hours. Even as the sounds of nature faded into the soft hum of midnight, his body stayed frozen. The only thing still alive was his mind—and his mind was screaming.

But when midnight reached its peak, Ren slowly looked up. The sky was unchanged. Calm. Black. Scattered with light. The stars didn’t know war. They didn’t know Fujisawa. They didn’t understand guilt or loss. But still—they shone. Because that was what they did.

And in that quiet moment, without realizing it, the first seed of something greater began to grow in his heart.

Ren took a deep, trembling breath. His memories carried him back to childhood—to sitting in front of the television, wide-eyed, watching a superhero save others. Not because he could... but because he had to. Not for praise. Not for power. But because in a dark world, someone had to be the light.

It wasn’t superpowers that made a hero a hero.

It was the humanity in their actions.

"I remember now..." he whispered, so softly it was almost inaudible. "Why I wanted to be a hero... It wasn’t because the suits looked cool, or they could fly, or had amazing weapons... It was because they... didn’t give up."

He looked up at the sky that remained the same, even after everything that had happened. "Because in this world... not everyone is good. Not everyone is evil. The world is never black and white. But hope... hope is something that must always exist. Even if the world rejects it."

Ren slowly stood. His knees trembled, but he stood tall. His body was still covered in wounds—but those eyes... those eyes were burning. Like the brightest star in the sky.

He turned toward the remains of his armor leaning against the tree. Cracked. Scorched. Partially destroyed. But to Ren, it wasn’t an ending. It was a beginning. A reminder that even if the armor breaks, the will cannot be defeated—as long as belief remains.

"Fujisawa... you did your part. Now... it’s my turn."His expression tightened. Not from grief—but from resolve.

He took his first step, leaving a mark in the damp earth. He would rebuild. Not just the armor... but himself.

Because hope isn’t an illusion. It’s a choice. And tonight—he chose to be the light.

---

Ren sat in the pilot’s seat of the small aircraft, his body heavy after the long battle. His left hand still trembled slightly—not from injury, but from something deeper: the emotional strain and the weight of the decision he had just made.

He took a deep breath, staring at the night sky beginning to open up beyond the cockpit glass. And then, his mind drifted back to that moment.

Many would probably ask, why not try flying the plane? Why destroy it instead?

The answer: calculation. The aircraft had already lost stability. Its nose was diving at incredible speed. Even with his technical skill, Ren knew he wouldn’t have had time to stabilize its direction, restore lift, and find a safe place for an emergency landing. The window was too narrow. And he... wasn’t sure.

It was better to choose certainty—even if it hurt—than to gamble with something he couldn’t control.

The second reason: Transmutation. Doing it from inside the plane would’ve been a risk. The process functioned like a wave of molecular decay—starting it in the middle of the aircraft would’ve shattered the structure before he could manage the effect. From the rear was impossible; the plane was moving too fast. The front was the only point that offered complete control: slow it down, then erase it, layer by layer.

The strange part was his own body. He had wondered—how could he withstand such pain when his bones fractured, his muscles tore, and his entire body was crushed under extreme gravitational pressure... yet he remained conscious, still able to act? It was inhuman. But he didn’t want to think too hard about it. Not yet.

Now it was time to get to work. He manually repaired the armor. Using his powers for something so trivial? That felt like cheating. Within an hour, he was done—the collapsible armor was once again packed into a large case, stored neatly in the cargo hold.

Ren slowly pulled the control lever, activating the engine.

"Night sky... take me home."

---

A few days later.

Night had fallen once again, and the underground base was drowned in heavy silence. In the corner of the room, Kiriya slept slouched in a swivel chair, his back curved and head resting against the edge of the desk. His breathing was slow but restless, like someone whose body was exhausted but whose mind remained at war.

It had been nearly two days since he last slept properly. Thick dark rings circled his eyes, and his heavy eyelids spoke of mounting mental strain. It wasn’t just anxiety... but a burden of emotion he couldn’t express to anyone—only to himself and the monitor screens that bore silent witness to it all.

He didn’t see it with his own eyes, but he heard it. And that alone was enough to shatter his heart.

Suddenly, a mechanical noise sounded from the heavy metal door behind him.

Click—tsst—grrk—ssht!

The door slid open with that signature sci-fi hiss: locking mechanisms rotating, a biometric scanner lighting up briefly, then granting access. Ren’s design—only the two of them had full access to this base.

Kiriya jolted awake. His eyes darted toward the door. And there he was—the one he’d been waiting for. Ren—disheveled, hair messy, face pale, and eyes that looked like they hadn’t slept at all. In one hand, he dragged a large black case bearing the faint "Techno" logo.

They didn’t speak at first.

Ren walked past Kiriya without a word, pulling the heavy case toward the corner of the room, then collapsed into his workstation chair. Before him, the lab bench was scattered with electronics and chemical tools: reagent bottles, cable circuits, microscopes, soldering irons, and test tubes arranged with almost obsessive precision. Behind him, the shelves were stacked with experimental materials—some sealed with handwritten warning labels.

Silence. Except for the soft hum of the ventilation system.

Ren opened his journal immediately, his hands moving fast as he jotted down formulas, sketched schematics, and typed data into a small holographic screen to his left. The faint blue light reflected off his face, which now looked older than his age.

Kiriya stood by the door, hesitant.

Finally, he spoke. "Hey... What are you doing?"

Ren didn’t look up. "What does it look like? I’m working."

Kiriya stepped closer. "Shouldn’t you rest first? You haven’t slept since yesterday."

Ren let out a short laugh—but it held no humor. "Rest? If I do that now, someone else might die. The least I can do is try to make it up to Fujisawa-ossan."

Kiriya was quiet for a moment. Then, softly: "What about me? I haven’t slept either, Ren. I... I can’t. Someone died... because of what we did."

Ren slowly turned toward him, eyes locking in. "He didn’t die because of what we did, Kiriya. Choose your words carefully."

Kiriya clamped his lips shut. "Then why?"

Ren stood, fists clenched at his sides. "He died to save our asses. He knew we couldn’t handle hundreds of killer drones. So he stayed behind. That was his choice. Not our mistake."

"You mean... those robots, Ultro? They were all created?"

"Not just robots," Ren said quietly. "AI. Autonomous systems. Designed to kill with maximum efficiency. Sent into the field for testing—by TAE Industries."

Kiriya fell silent, swallowing hard. "TAE? As in the world’s biggest military software manufacturer?"

Ren nodded. "And it seems... today’s failure isn’t the end of their project. They probably kept Ultro’s core data on internal servers. If that data falls into any military’s hands... the world could change."

Kiriya lowered his gaze. His hands were trembling.

"So yes. I’m going to keep going," Ren said, softly but firmly. "Because this is my part now. It’s not just about Fujisawa... it’s about everyone who might lose everything next."

Kiriya glanced at Ren’s workbench, watching as he began mixing chemicals with precise care. "And... all of that? Why are you making chemical compounds now?"

Ren paused. Then looked back at his friend with reddened, glassy eyes.

"To save Fujisawa’s sister," he whispered hoarsely. "She was diagnosed with terminal stage three... and I can’t—I won’t—let her lose everything like he did."

Kiriya went still. Those words hit him like a hammer to the chest. A heavy silence fell between them—not because they had nothing to say, but because words were never enough to express what this felt like.

Finally, Kiriya exhaled deeply. "Alright... then let me help track down TAE’s server location. I can start scanning their underground networks from here."

But Ren shook his head slowly, then met Kiriya’s eyes—red, but clear. "No. You’re going home. Go see my parents. Tell them... I’ll be home late. You know they’re starting to get suspicious with how often I disappear."

Kiriya stared back, trying to protest, but all that came out was a small nod.

"Call me later," Ren added. "After you calm them down. Then we start the plan... together."

"...Okay," Kiriya murmured.

For now, both of them knew—there was no turning back from this path.

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