Tech Hero in Another World
Chapter 85: [84] Thinking outside the box

Chapter 85: [84] Thinking outside the box

It took a full three days to reach the border of the Sultanate of Samsara. The seemingly endless desert finally brought them to a towering wall of sunbaked mud brick—over ten meters tall—that encircled the entire city. It looked ancient, but still very much capable of withstanding any assault from the outside.

The fortress was tightly guarded. Watchtowers stood every few dozen meters, manned by armed sentries on constant patrol. Even from a distance, the tension was palpable, as if the city itself lived under the shadow of fear and iron-fisted rule.

"Tight security. We can’t just waltz in like this, Boss," reported one of Khan’s men, freshly returned from scouting. His breath was still ragged, showing how difficult it had been to gather intel in a place like this.

"Yeah, but... can we get in the way you did?" Ren quipped casually, his tone light but clearly laced with sarcasm.

Khan glanced at him, suppressing a faint bitter smile. "Sorry about that... but there is a way. Though it’s a bit... unconventional."

"Unconventional?" Ren narrowed his eyes. "How unconventional?"

Moments later, Ren stood, utterly dumbfounded, in front of a massive creature that looked like a desert lizard the size of an elephant, its mouth gaping wide as if waiting to swallow its prey.

"Oh, hold up!" Ren pointed at the creature in shock. "When you said ’unconventional,’ did you mean we’re going through this monster’s stomach?!"

"Exactly," Khan replied calmly. "Relax. This isn’t just any beast. This is a Tufashûn. Its digestive system is... special. Its stomach acid won’t melt us. We’ve done this before."

Ren shook his head quickly. "It’s not the acid I’m worried about, Khan! I don’t want to end up walking out of here as a fully intact piece of poop greeting the locals!"

Khan patted his shoulder without expression. "Most make it out fine. Only one or two came out mildly traumatized."

Nea bowed her head in quiet surrender, saying nothing, though her eyes betrayed clear reluctance. Meanwhile, Khan began calling names from among his troops—only three could come along, given the Tufashûn’s internal capacity.

Ren waited to hear his name. But... it never came.

"Huh?" Ren shot him a sharp look. "You’re not calling my name?"

Khan turned. "No. Sorry. This mission isn’t for outsiders."

"I’m coming," Ren declared, instantly, without hesitation.

Khan stared back at him, his voice colder. "No. For real—this is dangerous. You’re not from here. Please, don’t get involved in things that aren’t yours to fix."

But Ren didn’t flinch. He stepped forward, his gaze deeper, more serious. "It’s because I’m an outsider... that I can help in ways you can’t."

Khan looked ready to argue, but Ren cut in first. "I know it’s annoying. Maybe it sounds stupid. But I can’t stand seeing people suffer for injustices they never asked for. If there’s something I can do—even the smallest thing—then I want to do it. So... let me in."

Silence fell between them. The members of Massiah said nothing. Even Nea looked at Ren, eyes glistening faintly. That wasn’t empty talk—they could all see it. Ren meant every word.

Khan bowed his head slightly, weighing it over in silence. And in the end... he exhaled deeply.

"Fine," he said at last. "But if you screw this up... you’re coming out through an exit that wasn’t made for exiting."

Ren raised two fingers in a peace sign. "As long as I don’t come out as actual crap, I’m calling it a win."

---

Some members of the group stayed behind outside the border, waiting for word from within. Meanwhile, Khan, Ren, and seven others were about to undergo one of the most unorthodox—and most controversial—infiltration methods ever used by desert fighters.

The Tufashûn, a colossal reptilian creature with a body like steel and a stomach the size of a small cabin, trudged forward pulling a massive logistics cart loaded with sacks of dried grain and barrels of water. Not a single guard at the Samsara gate suspected that the beast pulling the cart could be hiding more than just cargo.

Inspections were strict. Every bag on the cart was searched, every bottle uncorked, every item logged. But not one guard thought to check the belly of a docile-looking pack beast—and that was their mistake.

"Clear," one of the guards said, tapping the side of the cart as a signal to proceed. They had no idea that eight people were crammed inside the creature’s biological cavity, mere meters from their faces.

"Clear, huh..." Ren muttered from within the Tufashûn’s stomach, his voice nearly defeated. He held his breath, hunched over in a crawling position, trying to avoid the sticky fluid dripping from the organic walls around them.

"Told you already," Khan replied, sounding mildly amused despite his own discomfort. "But hey, at least we’re not getting shot at."

Ren hissed, dodging another drop that landed right next to his face. "Screw that... I can deal with bullets, but not... this warm slime." He glanced downward—and instantly regretted it.

The others could only hold their breath and curse their luck. The inside of the Tufashûn was not only cramped but reeked of a stench somewhere between monster sweat and rusted metal. Everyone had to keep their balance and their breathing steady to avoid triggering the creature’s reflexes.

"How much longer?" one whispered, voice trembling with nausea.

"Not much," Khan answered calmly. "As soon as it stops and coughs, we exit through the conduit leading to the city’s sewer."

"...You call that a ’cough’? Sounds more like a burst of disgrace."

Ren shut his eyes, trying to calm his mind. "If I survive this... I deserve a month-long elf spa vacation. Or at least a bar of decent-smelling soap."

At last, the Tufashûn came to a halt at the logistics distribution zone within the fortress. The creature let out a deep rumble, then slowly lowered itself to the ground. When the moment came, Khan gave a quiet signal.

"Now. Left exit tunnel—don’t use the right one. That’s... the wrong kind of exit."

Ren shot him a look. "What do you mean, ’wrong kind of exit’?"

"One of them leads to the actual waste system," Khan replied flatly.

"Why is it always

me..." Ren muttered as he began crawling forward, squeezing himself through the narrow gap toward a world that... might not be free yet, but at least wasn’t slimy.

---

In a secluded logistics pen tucked into a corner of the Samsara fortress, a middle-aged man sat casually, waiting—not for a secret meeting or shady deal, but... for his pet to relieve itself.

The creature, a massive Tufashûn, began to grimace and convulse. Moments later, from the rear of its body, came a loud, wet rumble that was anything but dignified. Then emerged something that... wasn’t your typical waste.

"Ugrh... this feeling... blegh," groaned Ren, his face pale as he crawled out of the narrow opening near the beast’s tail. He rolled onto the pen floor, gasping for air and immediately pinching his nose. "I’m never eating thick soup again... for the rest of my life."

One by one, the others followed through the same exit, their faces showing a mix of relief and mild trauma. Last to emerge was Khan, who remained composed, even though the stench now clung to his wrinkled robe.

After they had all exited, the Tufashûn’s owner—a long-time acquaintance of Khan’s—handed them damp cloths and a small bucket for cleaning up. No words were needed. Everyone understood just how valuable the experience had been.

Ren looked at Khan with a disgusted expression. "Disgusting doesn’t even begin to cover it. This was... revolting, torturous, and a full-on violation of basic human rights!"

Khan merely patted his shoulder, chuckling softly. "First time’s always the hardest. Think of it as a... rite of passage."

"If this is a rite, this desert needs a therapist," Ren muttered, scrubbing his hands with water whose cleanliness he was already doubting.

"Alright, enough. Keep it down, or we’ll blow our cover," Khan snapped quietly, glancing toward the pen door that hung slightly ajar.

Meanwhile, the pen’s owner—a chubby man with a friendly look in his eyes—approached, wiping his hands with a rag. "Thanks for the ride, buddy," Khan said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Don’t mention it," the man replied with a nod. "We’re even now, right?"

Khan looked like he wanted to protest, but the man raised a hand quickly. "I know, I know—you were gonna say I don’t owe you anything. But how could I forget? You saved me from bandits on the northern road three years ago."

Ren, still huddled in the corner of the pen wiping his shoes with a half-damp cloth, let out a low hiss. His breathing was heavy—not from physical strain, but from the sheer psychological trauma of what he’d just endured. "Okay... beautiful, heartwarming moment of friendship... but can we talk about favors owed after I scrub my brain clean of this experience?"

Khan and his friend both turned to look at Ren, who was still fighting to wipe every trace of biological residue from his boots. They exchanged a glance—part wanting to laugh, part genuinely impressed he could still crack jokes in a moment like this.

"Is he..." the friend murmured, his voice low, almost sheepish, "a new recruit?"

"No," Khan cut in quickly, eyeing Ren with a mix of amusement and relief. "He’s a stowaway."

"—We’re all stowaways, old man," Ren called out loudly without even looking up, still busy scrubbing the slimy tip of his boot.

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