Tech Hero in Another World
Chapter 61: [60] Do or die

Chapter 61: [60] Do or die

The battle in the sky reached its climax, the air trembling with booms and flashes of energy as two figures flew at cloud-splitting speed. Ren shot forward, his body tracing a perfect arc through the air, repeating a maneuver he’d executed in the past—but this time, with an entirely different kind of strike.

Behind the visor of his armor, Ren’s eyes were laser-focused. Every movement was calculated, choreographed like a deadly orchestra dancing between thin winds and the crushing pressure of atmospheric drag on his armor.

He had never been a fan of gambling—especially not when it depended solely on luck. But now, in the final seconds amidst the wreckage of sky and earth, he could only place his faith in one thing—that his calculations were correct, and he wasn’t waiting on a miracle.

The aerial battle hit its peak. Two blurs—Ren in gleaming green armor and Veskar with his mutant form radiating golden light—clashed in speed and strength among shredded clouds. The sound of exploding energy and colliding metal echoed all the way to the ground, where the soldiers below could only look up in horrified silence.

Ren twisted in mid-air, spiraling with surgical precision like a guided missile. Every movement followed a path he had simulated hundreds of times in his mind. But unlike before, this time he added a new variable—a strike Veskar wouldn’t expect, not with his mind now clouded by mutation and fury.

Inside the helmet, Ren squinted. The tactical hologram before him blinked, locking onto Veskar’s erratic, beast-like patterns. His targeting system strained to predict the mutant’s next attack, fueled by magic and madness alike.

Ren didn’t like to bet. For someone who lived by engineering, science, and logic, relying on chance was a flaw. But now, accelerating beyond Mach 3, in a duel no observer could follow, he could only trust one thing: his own math.

"Come on... move like you just did..." he whispered to himself, voice barely audible even inside his helmet. He adjusted his position, timed his breathing, counted the milliseconds—the space between attack and opportunity.

His armor discharged jets of heat from his back and calves, delivering a burst of force that let him twist nearly on a dime. The Ark Reactor in his chest throbbed, building internal pressure that pushed system warnings into the red. But Ren didn’t ease off—he pushed harder.

This was the wager—one full rotation, one crossing trajectory, one plasma slash that could end it all... or destroy him. If it worked, Veskar would fall before completing his second mutation. If it failed, there would be no second chance.

The sky itself seemed to hold its breath as the two blurred past the human eye, trails of green and yellow light chasing each other, cutting through lingering smoke and mist.

Ren gripped the hilt of his plasma sword tighter. And then, in a breathless instant, Veskar dipped his spear—

—And the opening he’d waited for appeared.

"There it is..." Ren prepared, his breathing loud in the fogged-up helmet. His heart thundered, but his mind was sharp, the whole world narrowing to a single strike line and the figure before him.

With a blinding flash, the two collided—ripping through the air like lightning bolts, unleashing a shockwave that sent clouds spiraling.

Time slowed. Ren saw the tip of Veskar’s spear inches from his chest, vibrating from the sheer speed. He twisted mid-flight, using his back thrusters to dodge at the last possible fraction of a second.

The spear scraped his mithril plating, sending searing sparks across his helmet’s face. But in that spin, Ren brought his sword down with full force.

A burst of light slammed into Veskar’s right side. The plasma blade tore through his shoulder, and in one brutal motion, his arm was severed. Black, shimmering blood sprayed through the air like boiling ink, and Veskar’s body was hurled back by the momentum of the blow.

But the price was steep. Ren’s armor overheated instantly. Warning panels in his helmet blinked red—then everything went black. Silent. Dead.

『—Critical system failure. Shut—』 Ultro’s voice cut off mid-sentence.

The suit stopped responding. Ren felt gravity claim him, and he began to fall from Mach 3 altitude—like a falling star burned out of light.

His body spiraled violently, sky and ground spinning in chaos. But in the swirl of noise and silence, one sound remained—a whisper, calm and focused.

A three-leafed magical sigil flared on his chest, and at that moment, a miracle happened.

Wind spirits and forest spirits swarmed to him, cushioning his fall so he wouldn’t hit at full speed.

Ren hit the ground hard—but not lethally. His armor tore through small trees as he tumbled, eventually skidding to a halt with most systems dead... but he was alive.

His chest heaved with ragged breaths, each inhale laced with burning pain. His vision blurred behind the cracked visor, sweat and blood clouding his view.

(What was that just now?... I could’ve sworn I heard something—who...?) Ren’s thoughts spun, until he saw it—faint particles of light dancing around him. He smiled faintly.

With what little strength he had left, Ren manually unlatched his helmet. The hinges screeched before releasing with a snap. "Haah... Haah... This doesn’t feel like the first time I’ve blacked out from G-force," he muttered, trying to slow his racing heart.

He remembered his first battle against Veskar—how his body bled from every orifice under the crushing pressure that pushed him beyond human limits. But now, though wrecked, he was still conscious.

"Did I... adapt?" he whispered, almost to himself. A small, bitter smile touched his lips as he pushed himself up with one arm, groaning.

Slowly, he summoned his strength. A soft blue glow lit his eyes as Material Transmutation kicked in—layers of armor began peeling off his body like metal skin, shifting into rough plates around him.

But the moment the final piece of armor detached, a sharp pain tore through Ren’s side. He dropped to the ground, clutching his left ribs, which felt like they were on fire.

"Urgh... Looks like I’m seriously injured. Broken ribs?" he hissed, carefully probing the area with trembling fingers.

His left hand touched something soft and warm—blood. Then the sharp sting traveled up to his shoulder. "Auch..." he groaned, wincing as the pain came in relentless waves.

All around him, the battlefield still roared—screams, crashes, and the clash of steel filled the air. But amidst the chaos, Ren focused on one thing: finding Veskar.

Limping, bloodied, he scanned the area, following the path of their last collision. It didn’t take long before he spotted the familiar figure lying not far away—battered, wings shredded, and chitin plates fractured across his body.

"There you are..." Ren exhaled deeply, relief spreading like a breeze through fire. "Still breathing, huh... damn it," he muttered, his voice bitter but tinged with quiet relief. For some reason, seeing Veskar still alive kept him from truly hating the creature.

But as Ren stepped closer, Veskar’s body suddenly jerked. The cracks in his insectoid form lit with a faint glow, and from the open wounds, streams of green magic began to seep—spreading through his body like a web. A deep, pained roar burst from Veskar’s throat as his body was once again forced to regenerate through unstable magic.

"Oy—oy! You’ve gotta be kidding me!?" Ren stumbled back a step, his body far too broken to handle another round.

The magic surrounding Veskar intensified, veins glowing strangely as his wounds closed—imperfect, malformed, but healing nonetheless. He rose—slowly, shakily—but his eyes locked onto Ren with a blank, animalistic stare. It wasn’t unconsciousness. It was unfiltered will—savage and unrelenting.

Ren clutched his ribs, cold sweat dripping from his brow. "Damn it... Even if I run, he’s faster. Is this... the end for me?"

His heart pounded—not from courage, but from pure fear. His body was exhausted, his armor ruined. No weapons. No backup plan.

Just willpower—and maybe, a miracle.

Veskar’s body remained wrapped in unstable healing magic, every movement crackling with pain. He stood unsteady, wings torn, spear missing—but the urge to continue surged within him. His steps were slow, but relentless, dragging himself forward like a corpse refusing death.

"Shit... I have to move," Ren muttered, forcing his broken body upright—but the strength just wasn’t there.

As he tried to stand, his foot caught on a tree root. He fell again, pain flaring through every muscle. "Urgh... why now?" he thought bitterly, reaching for support—finding nothing.

He turned—and froze.

Veskar—brutal, monstrous—was now only a step away. Towering over him, mangled but deadly. Without his spear, he raised one massive hand, fingers scaled and claws gleaming, ready to slash the last hope from Ren’s chest.

Ren’s eyes locked wide. The world fell silent in that single second stretched into eternity. "Ah... so this is how I die..." he murmured, resigned. "Damn..."

He closed his eyes.

But the pain never came. No impact. No strike. Only... silence.

Seconds passed. Long. Still.

And when Ren opened his eyes slowly, the first thing he saw—was a pair of small feet.

A child stood before him.

Her small frame radiated a soft, silvery glow. She appeared to be a little girl, maybe ten years old, with shoulder-length hair, and from her head sprouted insect-like antennae. A striped tail—like that of a hornet—draped behind her.

Ren stared, dumbfounded. Even in this mess, his brain sparked with absurd thoughts. (Wait... do kids these days come with insect tails now?)

Veskar stopped in his tracks. His trembling body went still. The wild red eyes that moments ago recognized no one now slowly softened, a faint glimmer of awareness returning from the madness.

"P... Princess...?" Veskar croaked, his voice hoarse and raw, shaking from deep within his shredded throat.

The little girl gazed at him without fear. Her eyes were calm—ancient, even—as if they held a thousand years of unbroken honor.