Tech Hero in Another World
Chapter 95: [94] Destiny that binds (2)

Chapter 95: [94] Destiny that binds (2)

The sky over Samsara had turned red—not from sunset, but from something far more inexplicable. The air felt heavy, as if filled with fine dust laced with blood. Khan stood in the middle of the palace square, but not a single familiar face greeted him.

The ground beneath his feet cracked, and the fractures moved like veins, pulsing, as if something alive was lurking beneath the surface. In the distance, a low explosion echoed—not the sound of weapons, but something far more terrifying—the sound of a massive bubble bursting.

He turned and looked up. Hanging above the city was a colossal bubble, glistening like slimy crystal. Then, in an instant, it burst—releasing a blackish-green mist that flowed across the entire city.

"No..." Khan muttered, stepping back. The mist slithered like a living thing, slipping into every alley, every house, every corner of Samsara’s walls.

Screams erupted from all directions. But these weren’t cries of panic—these were screams of pain. Khan ran toward the sound, through the palace corridors, bursting through doors—only to find his people transformed.

Their bodies had swollen, skin blackened and scaled, faces distorted beyond recognition. Their eyes were vacant, but their bodies moved like bloodthirsty machines. Takwin.

He recognized one of them—Derek, his loyal comrade. Derek’s face was half destroyed, part of his mouth twisted into a vertical slit that hissed.

"C-Captain..." Derek rasped, his voice filled with agony. "W-we failed..."

Then Derek’s body exploded, spewing black liquid in Khan’s direction. He fell backward, tumbling, only to realize the palace floor was now covered in slime—sticky, pulsing, moving like the breath of a living creature.

Khan tried to stand, but his legs were stuck. When he looked to his right, he saw his mother... kneeling, her hands burning with glowing red runes etched into her palms. "Farid... protect them... protect Samsara..." her voice choked.

"Mother! Wait—!" But her body melted like hot wax, dripping away without a trace. Khan screamed, called her name—but no sound came out. The world had gone silent.

He stepped out the gates and saw a city overrun by monsters. Children he once saved now crawled with twisted limbs, their heads flipped backward like broken dolls. On the rooftops, massive shadows moved—tall, gaunt, with glowing black eyes.

And then, from the edge of the horizon, a towering figure emerged. Malik. Or something that resembled him. His body had grown massive, his skin a fusion of sand and petrified flesh, his eyes burning red like the fires of hell.

"I saved them, Farid," the figure said in a thunderous voice. "With this power... they’ll never die. They are eternal. No longer weak... no longer oppressed. Just like me..."

Khan staggered back, his eyes trembling as he stared at the monstrous form. "You... you killed them..."

"No. I freed them." Malik raised his hand, and from the ground emerged thousands more Takwin creatures—screaming, crawling, moving in perfect unison like a demonic army descending from the sky.

The sky over Samsara shattered—like glass punched from above. Star fragments rained down on the city’s towers. The sands rose into the air, forming a vortex that devoured everything in its path.

Khan stood alone, his body frozen by despair. "I’m too late..."

Suddenly, a deafening roar exploded behind him—a shadow pounced, claws poised to pierce his chest—

And then he woke up, gasping for air, his body drenched in sweat.

The tent felt too small, every breath labored. Outside, only the stillness of the desert night. But his body wouldn’t stop trembling. Khan grasped the sand beneath his bedding, grounding himself—making sure he was still real, still whole.

But the voice from the dream still echoed. "I freed them..."

Khan sat up, hands covering his face, soaked in cold sweat. His body trembled—not from the desert’s biting chill, but from something far deeper—a fear etched into his very bones.

He tried to breathe, but each inhale felt like pulling in air that wasn’t entirely real. The scent of metal and burnt flesh still clung to the edge of his senses, though the tent held only dust and the must of old carpet.

The flashes wouldn’t leave him. Derek exploding. His mother melting. The sky cracking like a sinful mirror. They were burned into the backs of his eyelids, as if the dream world hadn’t fully let go of him.

"Mother..." he whispered, barely audible. That word alone squeezed his chest, as if a massive invisible stone pressed against him.

He slowly opened his eyes, staring at the tent’s ceiling—seeing not fabric, but the reflection of Samsara’s cursed sky. Even the stitching looked like the black veins that had spread across the air in his dream.

Khan shut his eyes, trying to shake the thoughts away—but instead, Malik’s voice returned—deep, heavy, damned. "With this power... they’ll never die." The words pierced him like a cold nail driven through his skull.

Then he remembered his mother’s stories—ones he once dismissed as fairy tales: that the direct bloodline of the Great Sultan possessed an inner sight—"Ma’rifatul Mulk"—the ability to glimpse pieces of the future through dreams. Divine messages, she called them. But they had never been this vivid. Never this dark.

His hand moved again to the sand beneath him, feeling its coarse texture. Something real. A reminder that he was still alive. Still here, not lost in that whirlwind of ruin. Yet even the sand felt cold. As if touched by the shadow from the dream.

He stood slowly, stepping out of the tent with ragged breaths, and found the night still intact. The small campfire still burned in the distance, the desert wind drifting gently, carrying the scent of ash and dry resin. But now... none of it brought peace.

His steps faltered as he made his way to the edge of a flat rock, sitting with his back to the camp. He stared up at the star-filled sky, searching for answers among the constellations. But what he saw wasn’t peace—it was possibility.

"Is that the future?" he asked softly. "Or just my own fear dressed as prophecy?"

The image of Malik flashed once more in his mind—his glowing eyes, his body no longer human. He had lost his form, but not his conviction. "I saved them," he had said. But the price of that salvation was erasing everything that made them human.

Khan winced, recalling the faces of children walking with twisted legs and broken necks. No, that wasn’t salvation. That was a curse.

If he had truly received a message from the Most High, then it wasn’t just a warning for himself. It was a command. A plea from the heavens: stop this... before it becomes reality.

He lowered his gaze, staring at his palm. Dried blood still clung from yesterday’s wound—a small cut, but real. Unlike a dream. Yet both now felt equally heavy.

"If this is a sign, then I can’t just be a symbol," he murmured. "I have to be a shield."

But a small voice inside him answered, full of doubt, "But are you ready to kill someone you once called brother?"

He knew Malik. Once. A young man full of hope who dreamed of changing the world by learning from every ruin of the past. How had that hope turned into a machine of destruction?

Khan looked out at the silent desert, letting the night wind brush his face. But its chill couldn’t cool the fire roiling in his chest. He still felt uneasy, his soul caught between fear and destiny’s call. At last, he walked toward the edge of the red hill—the highest point near the camp—to look at the stars that never changed, even as the world below slowly fractured.

There, the sky felt like a quiet ocean, and the stars like small prayers suspended in eternity.

"Khan?"

The soft voice broke the silence. He turned, a bit startled.

Without him noticing, Nea stood a few steps behind him. Her silver hair swayed in the wind, and her long ears shifted gently, uneasy. She hugged her shoulders, whether from the cold or from unspoken feelings, he couldn’t tell.

"Nea... You’re still up?"

"Well..." Nea lowered her eyes for a moment, then smiled awkwardly. "I felt restless. And... I’m naturally a night owl."

Khan let out a small laugh, a strange sound after such a long night. "Ah... I remember when we thought you were a thief. You were sneaking around the Mezes ruins."

Nea’s cheeks turned bright red. "T-that was because I was looking for medicinal herbs! Besides, I didn’t know you’d set up camp there!..."

"And now, you’re the most diligent one guarding the supplies," Khan murmured, gazing back at the sky. "Funny how the world spins."

They fell into a brief silence, accompanied only by the soft hiss of sand slipping down the hillside.

"Why are you here?" Nea finally asked, her voice nearly carried away by the wind. "You’re usually the last one to leave the tent at night."

Khan sighed, long and heavy. "I had a dream. But it wasn’t just a dream... more like a warning."

Nea didn’t press further. She simply sat beside him, pulling her knees to her chest, the small tail beneath her cloak twitching gently.

"You know," Khan continued, softly. "I always thought, if I stayed quiet enough, stepped back far enough... the world would forget me. That I could live as an ordinary man."

"You can’t," Nea interrupted gently. "You know that."

"Yeah... I know now," Khan whispered, his eyes vacant as they traced the constellations blinking like the heartbeat of the sky.

"What did you see in that dream?" Nea asked, unable to hide her concern this time.

"A broken world. Samsara... turned into hell. Everyone I knew—changed. Dead. Melted. Or worse—alive, but soulless. And all of it happened because I was too late... because I hesitated."

Nea looked at him, slowly reaching for his hand. "But you’re not too late, are you?"

Khan turned to her. Their eyes met—his, tired and burdened; hers, full of belief.

"I’m afraid... if I take this role, I’ll change. Become like him. Like Malik."

"You’re not Malik," Nea said firmly. "You’ve never crushed the weak. You saved children. You defended us, even when you had no reason to care."

She held his hand tighter. "You can stop this before it’s too late. But only if you believe in yourself the way we believe in you."

Her words sank into Khan’s heart like warm water into an old wound. He bowed his head, closed his eyes, and for the first time... the fear didn’t feel so alone.

He took a deep breath, steady and full. "Alright," he said, his voice resolute, unwavering. "If this world wants to test me... I won’t run anymore."

Nea smiled, her eyes glistening. "Welcome back, Khan."

He rose slowly, facing the desert stretched out before him. "Tomorrow morning... I’ll gather everyone. I’ll make my stance clear. If this is the path I must take... then I’ll take it fully."

"And I’ll be by your side," Nea whispered.

Khan turned to her, then smiled. A small smile, but enough to chase away the night.

The stars above them shimmered brighter, as if the universe itself had heard the decision—and finally exhaled in relief.