Tech Hero in Another World
Chapter 81: [80] Seriously who is Khan?

Chapter 81: [80] Seriously who is Khan?

They arrived at the village Nea had mentioned—nestled beside an oasis, built between natural stone arches and a row of date palms flourishing from the underground spring. The atmosphere reminded Ren of something deeply familiar: clay walls, narrow sandy alleys, and a golden sky burning above flat rooftops.

"Hmm..." Ren murmured, narrowing his eyes as he observed the layout of the buildings and the rhythm of the townsfolk’s steps, their loose clothing dyed in desert tones. "Not too different from your village."

Nea frowned slightly, confused. "Sorry?"

Ren gave a small smile and glanced at her. "I meant the houses here. The architecture. I’ve seen this style before—back in Sudan. But forget it, that’s another story."

Nea looked like she wanted to ask more, but Ren was already moving, eyes scanning his surroundings. He kept a comfortable distance from the locals, who watched him with a mix of expressions—curiosity, suspicion, and in some cases, mild awe at his clearly foreign outfit.

"So, where do we go now?" Ren asked as he stepped near an ochre-colored wall. "I left Bella and Alfred by the van. They’re watching the vehicle. It’s parked about three kilometers out."

Nea looked around cautiously, making sure no scouts or followers of Khan were lurking nearby. "There’s a place in the back market. An old tea stall where Band of Massiah envoys usually meet with locals. We can start there."

Ren nodded, then strolled forward, hands tucked into his pockets. In his mind, he had one simple hope—that for once, no one would accuse him of being one of Khan’s agents just because of a strange pendant hanging around his neck.

---

In a small stall tucked into the corner of the market, the air was thick with the sweet aroma of dates and warm spices. Nea stepped in first, while Ren stayed just outside, hands in his pockets, eyes distant as if chasing thoughts far from the present.

The stall owner, a middle-aged man with a thick beard and a worn turban, was busy kneading flatbread dough, seemingly mixed with date paste. He didn’t immediately acknowledge his guests, too focused on his skilled, practiced movements.

"U-um..." Nea spoke up hesitantly, waiting for a pause so she wouldn’t interrupt his work. The man only responded with a brief grunt, not looking up.

"Yeah..." he replied flatly, still twisting the dough. But when he finally glanced toward the voice and saw Nea’s face—especially those long, unmistakable ears—his demeanor changed in an instant. His aging eyes narrowed sharply, and a smile spread across his face just a little too quickly. "Oh my, and who do we have here? What can I do for a sweet desert lady like you?"

Nea gave a stiff smile, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden flirtatious tone, but she remained polite. "Actually... I’m looking for someone," she said, pulling out the fang pendant Ren had given her. She held it gently, then placed it on the rough wooden counter.

The man’s eyes sharpened. His gaze shifted from the pendant to Nea’s face, then briefly flicked toward Ren, who stood outside pretending to admire a basket display across the street.

"Ah... I see," the man muttered, nodding slowly. He set the dough aside carefully, as if this conversation was more important than anyone’s lunch. "You’re looking for him... well, he left three days ago. Headed west, if my last info still holds."

Nea looked disappointed, but not surprised. She bit her lip and nodded slowly. "Do you know exactly where?"

The man pulled over a small stool and sat with a creak. "A lot of people have been looking for Khan lately, miss. Some came from the Samsaran Sultanate, waving royal banners like they’re enforcing law. Others came from the Esk resistance—people who hate rules and love chaos."

"In other words, everyone’s hunting him," Ren said as he stepped into the stall, leaning against a wooden beam with one eyebrow raised. "And we’re looking for the most wanted man in the desert... great. Just great."

The owner chuckled, though it sounded more like someone trying to mask concern. "If you’re going after him, better leave tonight. Desert winds are shifting. And if the red sand starts blowing, no one walks straight on open ground."

Ren nodded slightly, eyes drifting to the desert sky now fading from blue to soft orange—night was coming. "Then... we move fast," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

"Thank you, sir. Here, a little something for your help," Nea said politely, placing a few small coins on the wooden counter. The man nodded with a faint smile, then returned to his dough as if the conversation had never happened.

"Sure, sure... Be careful out there," he said with a quick glance toward the window—whether out of habit or because he knew too well who was chasing who in these sands, it wasn’t clear.

Ren and Nea stepped back out into the street, strolling casually through a market alley now slowly emptying with the setting sun. But without their knowledge—or at least without Nea’s—eyes from afar were watching, waiting for the right moment to move.

"I thought that was all nonsense," Ren said quietly, not turning his head as they walked side by side. "Didn’t they say he was just a bandit? That Khan?"

"Used to be," Nea replied, keeping her voice low. "But he’s also known as a fierce warrior. Some say he’s from a lost tribe, others say he’s from outside Mandaley. No one knows for sure, but everyone agrees... he’s something else."

Ren glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his tone lightly mocking. "Spoken like someone who gets all starry-eyed when they say his name."

Nea stayed quiet, her cheeks slightly red, but she didn’t argue. Meanwhile, Ren caught a strange reflection in a shop window—two figures moving behind them, walking too much in sync to be a coincidence.

Without changing his expression, Ren tilted his head slightly. "I think... I’m getting hungry."

Nea glanced at him, confused by the sudden topic change. "Yeah...? But we just left the stall..."

"Oh, and one more thing," Ren added quickly, his voice low but sharp. "You can call me Nico."

Nea furrowed her brow, puzzled but trying to follow along. "Okay, Nico... but what—"

"Listen, we don’t have much time," Ren whispered, his tone calm but urgent. Then he flicked his eyes in a brief, deliberate motion—quick and clear.

Nea turned slightly to follow his gaze, doing her best to remain composed. But when she saw the two hooded men trailing them just a little too closely, her expression shifted. Her body stiffened, and she nearly spun around in panic.

Seeing that, Ren quickly smoothed over the tension with a theatrical tone. "So, are you hungry too?"

Nea froze, then caught on to Ren’s signal and nodded quickly, though her nerves were still evident. "V-very hungry... maybe we can sit down and... eat?"

"Good," Ren murmured. "Just follow my lead. And try not to make it too obvious we know they’re there."

The two of them turned into a narrower alley, slipping away from the open market. Behind them, the two stalkers picked up their pace, unaware their "prey" was setting a trap.

---

The two stalkers continued tailing Ren and Nea, their steps steady and silent, clearly practiced in moving through shadows. They followed them to the edge of the village—an area much quieter, far from the noise of the market and the laughter of playing children.

Their trail led behind the village, into a patch of wild shrubs and palm trees, just meters from the edge of the oasis. The water shimmered in the orange light of dusk, casting reflections that couldn’t entirely be trusted by the eye.

But when the two stopped and sharpened their focus, they noticed something strange. Ren and Nea’s footprints suddenly vanished, swallowed between the sand and the roots of the shrubs.

One of the men—dressed in dark clothes and holding a short blade—crouched, scanning the area carefully. The other pulled back his hood slightly, revealing a hard face covered in scars. "They can’t be far..." he muttered.

Just as they began to move around, a casual voice echoed from behind a large palm trunk.

"You two should’ve signed up for advanced stalker training," Ren said, stepping out calmly from the shadows. His smile was thin, and his tone dripped with sarcasm. "If you’d studied a bit harder, I might not have won a bet with myself about when you’d start to panic."

Both men spun around—one drawing a weapon, the other reaching for something beneath his cloak. But Ren stood there casually, hands still in his jacket pockets, like the two hunters in front of him were just confused parking attendants.

"Look, I’m not usually the type to throw knives around at sunset," Ren continued, eyes tracking their hand movements, "but if you push me, I’ve got a few neat tricks that could teach you how to fly without wings."

One of them stepped forward. "You... you’re not from this village. That pendant—you’re with Khan?"

Ren sighed, raising his hands like surrendering, though his expression remained calm and his voice had the tone of a teacher correcting a lazy student. "Okay, first: that accusation’s old. Second: your attack stance is like a goblin who barely passed academy with a pity grade. Third... you just poked your noses into something way above your pay grade."

The two men glanced at each other, clearly not expecting their target to be this relaxed. One of them finally spoke, his voice low and tense. "You don’t understand... why we need to find Khan. But we can’t let anyone beat us to him."

Ren tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, interest flickering beneath the lazy surface of his tone. "Hmm... let me guess. Samsara? Esk resistance? You’re too polished to be bandits, too rough for royal troops. So who are you, really?"

One of them visibly stiffened at the mention of those names, but didn’t answer. The other growled low in his throat but held back from making the first move.

Ren grinned and took a step forward, as if unaware of the weapons pointed at him. "Look, I wasn’t planning to get involved. I just wanted to deliver a message, help a couple of folks, and move on with my life. But the deeper I go, the more pits I find opening up beneath my feet."

His eyes narrowed, and his tone sharpened. "And now, two strangers are tailing us, dropping Khan’s name, and looking way too nervous when I mention the two factions currently redrawing the political map of this desert."

He stepped closer—only a few meters between them now. Though Ren’s hands remained in his pockets, the air around him began to change. Heavier. More focused.

"So," he said, exhaling slowly, "if you actually know something important... now would be a good time to speak. Because I don’t like playing guessing games with things that could explode at any moment."

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