Tech Hero in Another World
Chapter 54: [53] A man in suit armor

Chapter 54: [53] A man in suit armor

Queen Beatice Laurwen Eldaleon gazed at her daughter with gentle affection. Her eyes slowly shifted to Elaria’s hand, now resting upon Elthamar—the bow her late husband had left behind—as if she were trying to feel again the warmth that had long since vanished from the room.

"It feels like only yesterday he stood here beside you," the queen said with a wistful smile. Her eyes clouded over for a moment, hazy with memories too sweet to forget. "Back then, you were still a little girl, playing in this very room. I remember it clearly... you wet yourself in his lap, and he just laughed and said it was a sign of good fortune."

Elaria’s face instantly flushed, and her restrained voice burst out. "M-MOTHER!" she cried in half-panic, turning her face away like she wanted to dig a hole and hide in it.

But Queen Beatice only chuckled softly, her laughter like dew brushing over morning leaves. "Fufufu... Forgive me, sweetheart. But that memory is far too precious to keep to myself." She turned again, her smile fading into something more melancholic. "Haah... Do you miss him?"

Elaria fell silent for a moment, her head lowered in the quiet before she gave a small nod. Her voice, soft but full of longing, finally broke through. "Every day. I wish I could ask him now... What would Father do in a situation this tangled?"

Beatice let out a short sigh and offered a thin smile—a smile of a wife reminiscing about her husband with love and just a hint of sorrow. "Oh, sweetheart... If you really want to know, he’d probably gather his men and charge straight into battle without any kind of plan. He used to scare the generals half to death."

Elaria blinked, clearly shocked. "Eh? Father was like that?"

The Queen let out a quiet laugh, like the melody of autumn falling gently among the leaves. "You didn’t know? Thalion was reckless, stubborn, sometimes downright wild... an absolute handful. But after you were born—when he became a father, and soon after that, a king—he changed."

She glanced at a painting of Thalion on the wall, her expression softening. "He became a wise leader, able to unite the scattered Elven tribes. But deep down, he was still the brave man who never feared giving his life for those he loved."

Elaria gripped the bow in her hands tighter. Her fingers traced the fine carvings on the aged wood—each groove held echoes of the past, and now, they felt like promises of the future. This time, there was no fear in her eyes, only a spark of resolve slowly but surely catching flame.

Queen Beatice watched her daughter closely, sensing something taking shape within her—something she couldn’t hold back. With a voice gentle but weighty, she asked, "Tell me, sweetheart... What is it you want to do?"

Elaria lowered her head for a moment, as if searching for courage among her thoughts. Then, slowly, she looked up, her gaze meeting her mother’s with hesitant but honest eyes. "Mother... Can I go to war?"

A hush fell over the room, so still it felt as though even the walls held their breath. Beatice didn’t answer right away. She took a long breath, eyes fixed on the daughter who had just returned from hell. She could still feel how fragile that body had been when they found her... how shattered the soul she cradled night after night.

But behind all those wounds, she now saw something familiar—the same look in Thalion’s eyes when he was young and headstrong. The same unwavering spirit she had once fallen for. And somehow, this time, Beatice didn’t want to say no.

"Go ahead, sweetheart..." she said at last, her voice steady but laden with meaning. She stepped forward, laid a hand on Elaria’s shoulder, and gazed at the old bow. "Take your father’s bow... and go. But don’t do it just to atone. Do it because you know who you are."

Elaria nodded gently. "I know. Not for revenge. Not to cause pain... but to protect, just like Father did."

There were no embraces, no tears. Just two generations of women from the same royal bloodline—understanding one another through shared scars, love, and the strength passed down without words.

###

In the quiet southeastern plains, far from the clamor of the war’s frontlines, stood a colossal structure resembling a giant beehive. It rose like a natural fortress, with walls coated in hardened wax and corridors echoing with the buzz of thousands of wings. This was the hive of the Hornet Wasp Kingdom—the central command of a species that had long dwelled in the shadows of the southern forest.

In its dim central chamber, atop a glistening throne suspended by organic resin sacs, sat a majestic creature: the Hornet Wasp Queen. Her body was large and full, her head crowned with a rigid crest that glowed faintly. Her wings fluttered lazily, but the pheromonal pressure she emitted made it impossible for the warrior drones to lift their heads.

One of the scout soldiers, with scaled limbs and trembling compound eyes, stepped forward cautiously. It bowed deeply, then spoke in a voice tinged with dread. "Y-Your Eminence... f-forgive the intrusion... Commander Veskar has... l-lost control."

The Queen stirred, her massive form creaking like aged wood. Her voice came out thick and layered, pushing past a throat filled with viscous fluids. "L-lost... control? Wasn’t... Veskar... sent... to destroy?"

"Y-yes, Your Majesty... But he hasn’t... returned. He continues to slaughter—u-unceasingly. Friend or foe... even our own troops..."

A synchronized hum rippled through the room—hundreds of guards shifting uneasily. Unlike Veskar, who had a humanoid form and higher intelligence, the rest of the soldiers were more insect than person—multi-limbed, double-winged, and bound to collective behavior. They relied on their Queen as the command center—and now, that center was deep in contemplation.

The Queen slowly turned, her round, pitch-black eyes glowing dimly. She parted her jaws slightly, then issued a trembling decree. "S-send... aid... To the long-eared ones... T-the E-Elves..."

The order startled the surrounding officers. But not a single one dared to oppose it. If the Queen had spoken, then every hornet would dance to her rhythm.

###

Ren stood in the middle of the field, holding his breath as he stared at the new armor now standing proudly atop his portable workbench. It required far more refinement than his previous set—but it came with just as many upgrades.

The design was sleek yet sturdy, inspired by the form of a falcon slicing through the sky on the wind’s edge. The mithril green plating that coated its surface shimmered in the morning sunlight with a soft yet razor-sharp gleam, as if it was ready to cut through the heavens themselves.

At the center of its chest, a circular glowing core was perfectly embedded—a miniature reactor emitting a pure blue light. Unlike magic, this device operated on advanced energy circuits and elemental manipulation—a system Ren had developed himself, based on the technological principles he brought from Earth.

He gently touched the armor’s surface, as if greeting a new comrade-in-arms. The touch produced a soft metallic chime that lingered in the quiet morning air—a silent response only its creator could understand.

"Alright," Ren murmured, taking a deep breath before glancing up at the sky with a faint smile. Sunlight swept across his face, casting a long shadow behind his firm stance.

With a smooth motion, he activated his signature ability—Material Transmutation. The armor’s segments began to move automatically, like a living organism responding to its master’s call.

Piece by piece, the armor lifted from its stand and flew toward Ren’s body, attaching one after another with near-perfect precision. From arms to shoulders, then torso and legs, until finally the helmet sealed his vision—everything locked into place in seconds.

"Hmm... Feels lighter," Ren muttered as he rolled his shoulders, testing the flexibility of the new design. He made a small hop, and smiled in satisfaction when his movement showed no lag whatsoever—system stable.

At the center of his chest, the Arc Reactor pulsed with a gentle light, its silver-blue glow flowing subtly through the armor’s joints, blending with the elegant falcon pattern etched into the plates. Within the helmet, the interface display gradually appeared, mapping out vital data—internal pressure, coolant system temperature, even nearby motion detection across the testing ground.

"Ultro, you hear me?" Ren said, his voice echoing lightly within the helmet.

『I’m here, Master.』

A calm, flat voice responded—familiar, though long unheard. Ultro, the AI assistant Ren had once built during his time on Earth, was finally active again after lying dormant for so long.

Previously integrated into his smartphone, the AI had ceased functioning due to power and storage limitations after the world-shifting incident. It had taken nearly a month and a half for the system to rebuild itself—reassembling complex algorithms from fragmented data remnants.

Ultro’s capabilities weren’t fully restored in this world, particularly due to the lack of technological infrastructure. But for executing basic commands, assisting in engineering calculations, or syncing with the armor system, the AI remained an invaluable asset.

Back then, Ultro wasn’t just any program. It had been a top-secret military project from a global superpower—designed for high-level battlefield support. Ren had stumbled upon it during his travels in the Middle East, in Sudan. And with his own skills, he had refined the AI far beyond its original blueprint.

"Ultro, calibrate the flight system. Check reactor stability and thrust output for mid-tier acceleration mode," Ren ordered, tightening his stance.

『Initiating calibration. Stabilization parameter: 87%. Reactor operating at 62% capacity. Ready for initial testing.』

Beneath his feet, the ground vibrated faintly as the internal propulsion systems spun up. The mithril circuits along the legs and back of the armor lit up subtly, channeling energy from the Arc Reactor with a steady rhythm. A soft hiss of air pressure echoed as the armor responded fully to the Material Transmutation system Ren had embedded into its frame.

"Alright. Phase one test—vertical maneuver."

With a powerful push, Ren’s body launched skyward, piercing the sky like a silver bullet. The wind slammed against the armor’s surface, but the automatic stabilizers kicked in perfectly. At fifty meters high, he hovered, balancing midair, then twisted left and right to test maneuverability.

『Stabilization optimal. Lateral turning response within acceptable range. Reactor energy absorption at 93% efficiency.』

Ren exhaled in relief. "Good. Now phase two—horizontal acceleration mode."

Once more, the armor’s foot boosters fired a low-level thrust, and this time, Ren darted forward across the treetops and hills. His body flew like an arrow guided by thought. The helmet’s sensors adjusted the display to match his speed, drawing predictive trajectories and marking objects ahead.

As he zipped through the sky, Ren couldn’t suppress a small smile. No magic. No incantations. Just engineering, precision, and will. All of this—this flight, this power—was the fruit of an ordinary man’s defiance against an unfamiliar world.

"Ultro, capture topography at one hundred meters. I want a full scan of the southern forest."

『Beginning mapping. Saving results to internal storage.』

As he slowed and began to climb higher, the cool evening breeze greeted him. In the distance, the sun tilted low, casting golden light on the treetops, reflecting gently off wisps of lingering mist.

Ren stayed quiet. From up here, the southern forest stretched out endlessly like a sea of green, dotted with drifting clouds and streaks of amber slipping between ancient trees.

"Beautiful... this world," he whispered softly, almost like a prayer.

Still floating in the sky, his gaze was suddenly drawn to something far off—a tiny glimmering light perched atop a massive tree. The tree towered so high it pierced the sky’s mist, standing proud in the center of the southern forest. The Elves called it the "World Tree," and now, from this height, the light appeared like a lone star lost among the leaves.

Ren angled his body, slowly adjusting his flight path toward the glowing source. The thrusters on his feet glowed softly, propelling him forward in near silence, like a nocturnal bird gliding through the sky without disturbing a soul. Curiosity grew as the distance shrank—the light wasn’t normal. Too bright for a firefly, too steady to be a reflection.

Moments later, he landed on a massive branch, as wide as a palace balcony. The surface was warm and damp, blanketed in moss that glowed faintly in the dark. Ren stepped lightly, his eyes locked onto the shimmering light that now trembled gently among the tangled twigs.

"A firefly?" he muttered, narrowing his eyes and activating the zoom on his visual interface.

But as the image sharpened, his breath caught. The light had taken the shape of a tiny figure, with delicate wings that fluttered like flower petals in the breeze.

"...A fairy," he whispered—barely audible, as if afraid to disturb the fragile being.

He stood still. Unmoving. As though time itself had paused alongside him.

The small light slowly floated toward him, drifting like a summer firefly’s glow. Ren remained in place, letting his helmet retract slowly so as not to appear threatening. The soft wind atop the giant branch stirred the leaves and his hair in tandem, wrapping the moment in a surreal, almost magical atmosphere.

The fairy was now less than a meter from his face. No larger than a puppet, her tiny form glowed softly, her transparent wings shimmering like ripples on water. Her round sapphire eyes stared at him unblinking, full of wonder.

"Wahh... wahh!!" she cried out with a voice as clear as tiny bells. "You... you’re made of metal, right? Or... or... are you a golem? But your face looks human! You have a face, but your outfit’s like those mechanical warriors from old stories!"

Ren blinked, a little surprised by her sudden enthusiasm. But he only gave a faint smile and slowly sat down, trying to meet her at eye level.

"I’m human," he said gently, keeping his voice soft. "This is just armor."

The fairy flew around his head, then stopped right in front of his face. She even touched the edge of his half-open helmet with a glowing fingertip.

"Woooahhh...! This is armor?! But why does it glow?! Why did your eyes light up just now? And... and what’s that thing on your chest—it’s glowing! Are you hiding a tiny sun inside your body?"

Ren chuckled softly. It was the first time he had encountered a creature this small and cheerful in this world. "That’s the power source. Kind of like... an artificial heart."

"An artificial heart?! So you’re not just an ordinary human, huh? You’re like... like... hmm... a sky warrior!" she exclaimed, spinning midair with glee.

"Sky warrior, huh..." Ren repeated with a small smile, then glanced up at the vast sky beyond the canopy. "I like the sound of that."

The fairy giggled, then flew closer and perched herself on his shoulder without the slightest hesitation. "I like you! You’re cool! You’re different!"

Ren turned his head slightly toward her. "You’re not scared of me?"

"I’m curious, not scared!" she declared confidently, patting his mithril-covered shoulder. "If I were scared, I wouldn’t be sitting here. I’m Fia, a tree fairy. What’s your name, Sky Warrior?"

"Ren," he replied simply. "Or... Nico Mustang, in this world."

Fia let out a soft laugh. "Hihi~ Your name’s so long! But I like it."

"Glad to hear that..." Ren responded with a faint smile, letting his shoulder stay relaxed even with the tiny creature now perched atop it. His gaze shifted to the soft glow still embracing the massive branch of the World Tree. "By the way, what are you doing here all alone?"

"Hm?" Fia tilted her head, her small pointed ears twitching adorably. "I don’t know!" she answered cheerfully, her little legs swinging in the air. "I’ve always been up here, watching all of you from above! You’re all so funny to look at from up high—especially the ones I think are going to fall, but then don’t!"

Ren could only look at her with a mix of amusement and confusion. This little fairy was truly like a child—filled with wonder and free of care. "You... never came down?"

"Down? Never!" Fia shook her head so quickly her fine, glowing hair swayed with her. "I’m scared... too many loud noises down there. But today is sunny, and you were glowing, so I got curious~!"

(She really is like a kid... It’s hard to say anything harsh to her.) Ren took a deep breath, letting his thoughts settle. Fia’s eagerness was charming, but Ren knew—the world below wasn’t as gentle as she imagined.

"Nii-san! Nii-san!" Fia suddenly leapt from Ren’s shoulder, her tiny wings fluttering with a trail of glowing dust as she hovered in the air. "Look at this!"

Ren followed the motion of her small body as she flew toward the edge of the branch. Hidden behind silver-green foliage, a glowing fruit emerged—pale pink with a hint of gold on its skin, as if painted by sunlight itself.

"What’s that?" Ren asked, leaning forward slightly. His boots touched down gently on the massive, sturdy branch—as if it had been holding up the sky for thousands of years.

"It’s a starfruit!" Fia squealed with sparkling eyes, hugging the golden-pink fruit tightly like a cherished plush toy. She slowly spun it in the air, showing off its soft shimmer under the setting sun’s light.

Ren fell silent. His eyes widened slowly, locked on the fruit with a mix of awe and caution.

Something stirred in his memory, as though puzzle pieces were snapping into place after being long forgotten.

He had seen that fruit before—not in real life, not in scientific illustrations or botanical journals, but in an old storybook he once read in the Eldoria Royal Library. The book had been thin, its edges worn, written in a classical style full of metaphors and allegories. Among tales of forest spirits and divine beasts, there was a legend about a star growing from the sky’s branch—a sacred fruit that appeared only when the world stood on the cusp of great change.

No passage ever stated exactly when or how the fruit would appear. Some versions claimed it bloomed once every hundred years, others said only when the World Tree shed tears. And still others said it could only be seen by those whose hearts had not been tainted by hatred.

Which is why the fruit was often dismissed as mere myth. Even among the most scholarly Elves, it was treated as a symbol rather than a tangible object—a metaphor for rebirth, enlightenment, or destruction, depending on who told the tale.

And now, the very fruit that was supposed to exist only in legend sat not far from him, glowing softly in the arms of a carefree little fairy still laughing with innocent delight.

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