Tech Hero in Another World
Chapter 70: [69] Tradition

Chapter 70: [69] Tradition

"Judging by your reaction," Queen Beatice said, stirring the tea in her porcelain cup, "it seems you find that title... burdensome."

Ren leaned back, letting out a quiet sigh. "You’re just realizing that now? Anything too holy or grand... doesn’t suit me. Though I still deeply respect my heroes’ philosophies."

The queen raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Philosophy... of heroes? What do you mean?"

Elaria turned toward him as well, curiosity sparking in her eyes. It was an unfamiliar concept to them—not because heroes didn’t exist, but because there was no structured framework called a ’personal philosophy.’

Ren scratched the back of his head, searching for the right words. "Well... where I come from, there are people who are great not just because of their strength—but because of how they lived and thought. They left behind teachings, principles, perspectives. That’s what we call philosophy. And sometimes, that’s more powerful than swords or magic."

"So... like a legacy of thought?" Elaria ventured.

Ren nodded. "Exactly. For example, one thing I learned is: ’Power without responsibility only leads to disaster.’ A true hero isn’t the one who wins the battle... but the one who stays human afterward."

The queen was silent for a moment, then sipped her tea quietly. "An interesting concept. Here, heroes are judged by outcomes... not by the burdens they carry."

"That’s the difference," Ren said with a faint smile. "You may not call it philosophy yet, but I’m sure there are plenty of great people in this world who live by those values. They just haven’t been collected or named."

Elaria lowered her gaze, thoughtful. Beatice looked at Ren deeply, then spoke softly, "Maybe... it’s time we start writing them down."

Ren shrugged and muttered, "As long as no one tries to start a Nico worship cult, I’m fine with it."

A soft chuckle rippled around the table, breaking the lingering tension.

"So what is your hero’s philosophy like, Nico-san?" Elaria asked, her eyes bright with sincere curiosity.

Ren looked down at his tea, its steam still rising in gentle wisps. He was quiet for a moment, letting his mind wander back to his old world—to glowing screens showing armored heroes saving the world with logic, technology, and unwavering principles.

"I always believed," Ren began softly, "that if you have great power... then your responsibility must be even greater. But that’s not all."

He raised his head, meeting Elaria’s and the queen’s eyes directly.

"To me... a true hero isn’t someone who starts strong. It’s someone who still chooses to act... even when they know they might lose. Someone who keeps helping... even when the world turns them away. Someone who never feels worthy of being called a hero... because they’re all too aware of their flaws."

Elaria sat frozen, absorbing every word, while Queen Beatice slowly nodded, her white robe trembling slightly as she drew a deep breath.

"And one more thing," Ren added with a faint smile. "A hero, in my view, is someone who doesn’t need recognition. Someone who can save the world... and vanish into the shadows. No statue. No parade."

"Like someone in a mask," Elaria murmured, resting her chin in her hand as if picturing it. "Who appears only when needed... then disappears before anyone knows who they were."

Ren chuckled softly. "Exactly. I used to dream of being someone like that."

Queen Beatice took another sip of her tea, then said calmly, "In a world moved by bloodlines and titles, it’s rare to find someone who chooses the quiet path. But sometimes... it’s those very people who change the world."

(It’s the ones whose names never make it into history... who truly move the world forward,), Ren thought to himself. He recalled the faceless figures of his world—scientists, writers, thinkers who lived under the weight of oppressive times. Some burned alive just for thinking logically.

The dark ages of Europe, when science was treated as heresy, as witchcraft, or a threat to power. An era where knowledge had to hide behind symbols... and bravery lay in the act of reading.

"Haah, I agree," Ren whispered, his fingers touching the rim of his cup. His gaze was distant, but inside his mind, the gears never stopped turning.

---

In the days that followed, Ren spent his time wandering through the capital of the Elven kingdom. He walked along moss-covered stone streets, passed herb-scented markets, and explored old workshops that housed rare materials. More than once, he stumbled across unique raw components that made him immediately pull out his smartphone to take notes.

But what brought him the most joy were the quiet hours in the royal library. A grand hall lined with towering wooden shelves and bathed in soft light from floating magic crystals above—it became his perfect escape. There, he could read for hours, losing all sense of time.

Each page was a window. He read about rune magic—a system of spellcraft that didn’t rely on verbal incantations, but instead on patterns and symbols. Some ancient documents even connected runes to a primordial language said to directly influence reality itself, bypassing traditional magic.

He also came across old records about the High Elves of ages past. They once lived for over a thousand years, mastering both magic and technology in forms now long forgotten. But great calamities—wars with ancient races, arcane disasters, and the collapse of the previous World Tree—had inflicted genetic damage that slowly shortened their lifespans.

(So long life isn’t just an inheritance—it’s a historical burden...

) Ren thought, flipping another page and mentally noting diagrams and potential applications.

He began sketching small ideas: how rune structures might be integrated into the systems of his armor, or whether magical crystals could be re-purified using Earth-based techniques. All of it went into his ever-growing list of projects—most of which had no clear deadline, or even certainty of being useful.

But for Ren, usefulness was never the point. It was about preparing for things that couldn’t yet be seen on the horizon.

Because one belief had always stayed with him: knowledge is never a waste. What’s wasted is the opportunity missed for not knowing anything at all.

---

A few days after losing himself in books and experiments, Ren finally received an invitation to join a pilgrimage to the World Tree. This time, it wasn’t for research or scavenging rare materials—but to attend a sacred ceremonial rite held only once every few years.

He wasn’t going alone. Elaria accompanied him, dressed in ceremonial white. Her gown was simple yet beautiful, embroidered with delicate leaf patterns symbolizing growth and release. Her silver hair was loosely braided, adorned with soft petals from the spring blossoms that only bloomed near the tree.

"Don’t laugh. This is serious," Elaria whispered before the ceremony began.

"Me? Laugh? I’m the embodiment of solemnity and empathy," Ren replied lightly—though deep inside, he was nervous.

They stood on the massive roots of the World Tree, surrounded by elves who had prepared the sacred ground with crystal lanterns, spirit flowers, and special incense. Gentle music from leaf flutes and crystalline string instruments began to play. The melody was slow and mournful... as if even time itself was mourning.

Then Elaria began to dance.

Her movements were slow and graceful, flowing with the music like wind caressing longing leaves. Each step marked the beginning of silent prayers among the gathered elves. There were no words, no chants—only movement and the dim light enveloping the sacred earth.

Ren, awkwardly standing at the back, said nothing. As faint lights began to rise from the roots beneath their feet, he was struck still. Like fireflies—only purer, slower... and as those lights ascended into the night sky, he realized they weren’t lights.

They were spirits.

The spirits of ancestors long merged with the World Tree’s roots, now given permission to return to the horizon in tranquil eternity. Some elves began to weep—not from sorrow, but from overwhelming grace. This wasn’t farewell—it was release.

"Ultro..." Ren whispered, tapping the button on his smartphone without taking his eyes off the sky.

『I’m here, Master.』

"Point the camera up. Focus on the light entities. Zoom slowly. I want a detailed record... and keep the ambient audio. Don’t alter a thing."

『Understood. Recording initiated.』

The small screen in his hand displayed the rising lights in slow motion, like reversed snowfall. Ren’s eyes were locked on the sky, then on Elaria, who now bowed softly in the closing of her dance. She was crying—soundlessly, with quiet tears trailing down her cheeks.

Ren didn’t know whose spirit Elaria was letting go of that night. He didn’t ask. Not now.

(So this is... another kind of farewell. Not sadness—more like... letting go with peace.)

That night, Ren saved the footage in an encrypted file and titled it: Farewell_from_the_Living.

He was still staring at the small screen when a faint glimmer drew his attention to the far side of the tree’s roots. Among the towering branches wrapped in sacred vines, a soft glow moved gently—peeking out like a child playing hide and seek.

Instinctively, Ren shifted his camera, zooming in. In the close-up, a small winged figure came into view—glowing gently, dancing in the night air. "Heh, that little girl..." he muttered, recognizing Fia, now floating half-hidden, her eyes glowing with curious mischief. The tiny fae seemed intrigued by the elf ceremony, even if she kept her distance.

Ren was about to wave at her, but a gentle tug on his sleeve made him turn.

Standing beside him was a young girl with silvery white hair and wide, curious eyes—Shua. Her small hand still clutched his sleeve, and behind her stood Sylphia, her mother, with the same warm smile she wore the day they were rescued.

"Oh, you came too?" Ren asked, slightly surprised but welcoming.

"Shua wanted to see the spirit lights," Sylphia said softly. "We just finished our prayers at the eastern side. But she seems more interested in you than the spirits floating up."

Shua nodded eagerly, then pointed at Ren’s camera. "Does that... hold spirits?"

Ren chuckled. "No, not hold. It just captures their image... like painting with light."

The little girl paused, thinking hard, then looked back up at the rising spirits in awe. Overhead, Fia continued flying around the tree, drawing tiny circles in the air—and even waved her tiny hand when she realized Ren had seen her.

Ren smiled faintly. In the simplicity of that evening, with the spirit lights slowly fading and the children gathered near, the world felt... lighter than usual. Not filled with threats or dread. At least for a moment—here beneath the World Tree—everything felt in balance.

(If the future really will change by human hands... maybe they’ll be the ones to witness it first.)

Ren slowly turned off the camera and saved the footage into his encrypted archives.

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