Tech Hero in Another World
Chapter 32: [31] Unnecessary involvement

Chapter 32: [31] Unnecessary involvement

In an instant, two Desert Eagles were already in Ren’s hands, their barrels aimed directly at the soldiers in front of him. His blue eyes gleamed with an icy sharpness—without a hint of hesitation.

Before they could react, his finger squeezed the trigger.

BANG! BANG!

Blood splattered across the already blood-soaked ground. The high-caliber rounds tore through their armor as if it were mere paper, shredding flesh and bone beneath. One soldier, shot square in the chest, was flung backward, his lifeless body collapsing amidst the ruins.

"W-What!?"

Another soldier scrambled to draw his sword, but before he could even raise it, a bullet pierced his skull, sending him crashing face-first into the dirt.

Too late. They were all too late.

Ren moved swiftly, his footsteps light as he weaved between the panicked soldiers. Some tried to run, but his precise shots cut them down one by one. No one escaped. No one could even cry out for help.

From inside the car, Bella and Alfred growled lowly, their eyes tracking Ren’s every movement with sharp attention. But they knew—he didn’t need their help.

This was a one-sided massacre.

As the final shot rang out, silence once again blanketed the area. Ren slowly lowered his guns, scanning his surroundings. Lifeless bodies littered the ground, some still twitching in their final moments before going completely still.

He let out a slow breath, then holstered his pistols at his waist. His gaze flickered over the corpses, yet no sense of satisfaction or pride surfaced within him. Instead, a faint confusion settled in his mind.

"Hah... I should’ve expected this, so why did I still go through with it?" he murmured softly, his words more for himself than anyone else.

He had no ties to the elves. This was their war, their loss.

So... why had he interfered?

Ren turned his eyes toward the sky, the evening sun dipping lower on the horizon. Then, he glanced at his right hand—the same hand that had pulled the trigger without a moment’s doubt. He flexed his fingers slowly, trying to grasp the impulse that had driven him.

(Well... at the very least, I got rid of some pests.) he finally reasoned, searching for justification.

With a light step, he returned to the car, opened the door, and slid into the driver’s seat. Alfred and Bella, who had been quietly observing, gave him a brief glance before settling back into their seats.

"Alright... let’s see what’s really going on here."

His voice carried a new edge of determination as he started the engine.

The car rolled forward, passing through the ruined fortress gates, leaving the corpses behind. In the distance, thick black smoke curled into the sky from deep within the forest—a clear sign that the chaos was far from over.

Ren pressed down on the accelerator, his sharp gaze locked onto the path ahead.

If this invasion was tearing deeper into Elven territory, then there were still plenty more pests left to exterminate.

---

The village near the border fortress was nothing but a scene of devastation and sorrow. Houses burned to the ground, corpses lay scattered in the muddy streets, and the stench of death thickened the air. The men of the village had been slaughtered without mercy, while the women—young or old—were captured.

To humans, elves had always been seen as beautiful. And that alone was reason enough to turn them into merchandise.

Amidst the ruins, a small silver-haired girl hid inside a food basket. Her wide eyes brimmed with tears, her lips quivering as she struggled to hold back her sobs. She had just witnessed her father being cut down before her eyes, while her mother—the one who was supposed to protect her—had sacrificed herself as a decoy so her daughter could escape.

But the world was never kind to the weak.

Her muffled sobs, no matter how small, sealed her fate.

Among the crackling flames and the heavy footsteps of the invaders, a single soft whimper was enough to catch the attention of a man with a sickening grin.

"Hmm... Did I just hear a little rat?" muttered a burly man dressed in more refined clothing than the other soldiers. His eyes, filled with vile intent, swept across the debris around him.

He stepped forward and kicked over a pile of baskets.

"Aahh...!"

The girl—Shua—tumbled out from her hiding spot, her small body trembling in terror.

Her horrified gaze met the man’s leering smile, his expression twisted in amusement as if he had just stumbled upon a hidden treasure.

"Oh-ho... Well, look at this. What a lovely little girl," he sneered with sick pleasure. His hand shot out, roughly grabbing a fistful of Shua’s silver hair, yanking her up as she whimpered in pain.

His eyes roamed up and down her tiny frame before he let out a low, pleased chuckle.

"You’ll fetch a high price at the slave market. Don’t worry—your new life starts now!"

Shua bit her lip, her body trembling even harder. She wanted to fight back, to scream—but her mother’s last words still echoed in her mind. Stay quiet. No matter what happens... stay quiet.

But miracles didn’t come so easily.

She could do nothing as the man began dragging her away, tearing her from the remnants of the home she once knew. That night, her world collapsed in an instant, leaving her alone in the hands of those who saw her as nothing more than property.

That night, a row of iron cages sat deep in the forest, each packed with crying elven children. Their sobs mixed with the rattling of chains, echoing through the cold night air. Some were too young to understand what was happening. Others, old enough to grasp the horror of their fate, could only sit in silent fear.

Among them, Shua sat curled up, her body trembling. Her eyes were swollen from crying the entire day. Her legs felt weak, her tiny hands clenched into fists atop her knees, desperately seeking a sense of comfort that no longer existed.

Memories of her burning village, of her mother’s sacrifice, played in an endless loop in her mind.

Outside the cages, a group of armed men sat around a campfire, laughing crudely as they ate and drank. But among them, a fat man with a thin mustache approached the cages, his beady eyes scanning the children like a predator picking out his next meal.

"Hey, bring that one over here," he said in a heavy voice, pointing directly at Shua.

One of his lackeys, dressed in worn-out leather armor, nodded and casually unlocked the cage. Without hesitation, he reached in and grabbed Shua’s small wrist, yanking her out.

"A-Ah...!"

Shua tried to pull away, but his grip was far too strong.

"Quit squirming, brat. You should feel honored—our boss has taken an interest in you!" the man sneered, dragging her forward.

Shua’s panicked eyes darted toward the other children, but they could only watch in horror, too afraid to move. As she turned her gaze toward the fat man, a sickening wave of nausea churned in her stomach.

"Hmph... Pretty cute for a little thing," the man murmured with a disgusting smirk. "I’ll make sure you get the ’attention’ you deserve tonight."

His hand reached out, ready to touch her cheek.

Shua’s breath hitched, her entire body convulsing in terror. She didn’t know what would happen, but her instincts screamed at her—she could not let this man touch her.

But before she could think—

BANG!

A deafening gunshot shattered the silence.

The glow of the campfire flickered violently as a lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

Shua froze. Her wide eyes locked onto the man in leather armor—the very same one who had dragged her from the cage—now lying motionless, a clean hole pierced straight through his head.

Panic erupted among the bandits.

"S-Shit! We’re under attack!" one of them shouted, drawing his sword.

But before they could react—

The low growl of an engine rumbled through the darkness.

Then, the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps echoed across the forest floor.

From the shadows of the trees, a lone figure emerged.

Dressed entirely in black, his face was concealed beneath a skull-patterned balaclava, casting an ominous silhouette against the firelight.

In his hands, he held a weapon unlike anything the bandits had ever seen—an odd metal staff with a menacing presence.

Black Death had arrived.