Tech Hero in Another World
Chapter 98: [97] Talking about the past

Chapter 98: [97] Talking about the past

bow, didn’t even show the slightest hint of surprise. When Malik sat down on the wooden chair provided in the room, Diana struck immediately, her words like daggers.

"What more do you want from me?" she spat, her voice sharp and laced with bitter disappointment. "Was killing your own father not enough?"

Malik smirked, leaning back against the chair. "Satisfied? Oh, I’m very satisfied," he said slickly. "My father was the coldest man I ever knew. Never hugged me when I was sick. Never praised a single achievement. All he knew how to do was dump impossible expectations on me. And when I failed, he tossed me into a foreign land under the excuse of ’learning.’"

"You shouldn’t have—"

"What!?" Malik snapped, then laughed—a bitter, sarcastic sound. "I was supposed to take it? Grow up and be the good little boy? Just accept that injustice with a smile? No, Auntie. I’m not that noble... Maybe Farid is. But I’m not."

Princess Diana fell silent. Her mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. Her heart churned with a mixture of anger... and pity.

"Such a shame," Malik continued, his voice settling again into calm. "If only Farid had agreed to join me... You know, Auntie? He and I actually wanted the same thing. This land. A land with a thousand years of history—a land that fought demons and refused to bow."

Diana narrowed her eyes. But what Malik said next made her blood freeze.

"I just don’t understand..." Malik murmured, as if speaking to himself, "why we’re not reviving that knowledge."

Diana froze in place. "You... do you even know what you’re talking about?" she whispered, almost disbelieving.

"Oh, I know," Malik replied casually. "I came here to show the results of what we’ve learned... from our nation’s own history."

At his signal, two of the Janissary Hamzat stepped forward and opened a long metal box. From inside, a small creature leapt out—birdlike in shape, but with a face distorted into a warped human likeness. Its round eyes darted toward Diana, and its tiny mouth let out a sound unlike anything natural or alive.

It was a takwin—avian form. A result of forbidden alchemical experiments that were supposed to have been buried with the history of the great war.

"YOU!" Diana roared, her fury exploding in the cold stone chamber. She stood, trembling, gripping the cell bars as if she meant to rip them apart with her bare hands. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done!? Malik, you’ve turned a human into... into that!"

The small creature let out a whimper, like the cry of a baby lost inside a body that wasn’t its own. Its human-like face, forced into avian anatomy, was a portrait of suffering that words could never fully express.

Malik tilted his head slightly, studying his creation like an artist evaluating his final sculpture. "Then why did our ancestors do it?" he asked flatly, not a shred of regret in his tone. "If they did it for victory... why can’t I?"

Diana shut her eyes for a moment, struggling to contain the scream building in her chest. When she opened them again, tears of rage shimmered at the corners.

"Are you insane or just a fool!?" she screamed, her voice cutting sharper than before. "They did that in war! When humanity had no other choice but to become monsters to fight monsters!"

She steadied her breath for a moment before continuing, her voice deeper now but filled with pressure. "And the people who created those takwin swore before God. They knew what they were doing, and they swore to carry that sin until their deaths! They weren’t proud, Malik. They suffered."

"That war is over," she went on, her tone softening but losing none of its firmness. "We’ve passed through that dark age. We have a chance now to build a brighter future—a more humane one. That’s what our ancestors wanted. That blood would no longer be the price of victory."

Malik let out a small laugh, not one of amusement, but ridicule."Heh... Hehehe... Auntie, Auntie, it seems you still don’t get it, do you?" He stepped closer to the bars, his face just inches from Diana’s.

"Our enemy isn’t just demons," he said slowly, as if whispering a bitter truth the world refused to accept. "To the west, there’s another kingdom doing things far crueler than anything we’ve ever imagined. They worship gods who don’t even flinch when abducting people from other worlds... just to turn them into pawns on their chessboard."

Diana furrowed her brows, struggling to contain the tremor in her voice. "What do you mean... people from another world?"

"Yes," Malik nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. "Their gods pull humans from other dimensions into this one. They rip them from peaceful lives... just to use them as weapons, heroes, political tools, or sacrifices for a story they themselves wrote."

"We are all just pieces, Auntie," he continued, his tone growing darker. "Pawns in a game far larger than kingdoms or demons. And those gods... they don’t care whether we live or die. They just want an entertaining story."

Diana went silent. Malik’s words struck her with a bitter truth—and unearthed an old fear that had only ever been whispered in prayers behind temple walls. She wanted to deny it, but something inside her knew—at least part of it... was true.

"But that’s no excuse to become like them," Diana whispered at last. Her voice was soft, but held an unshakable resolve."If you know what it feels like to be used... why would you turn others into tools as well?"

Malik didn’t answer right away. He lowered his gaze for a moment, then let out a short laugh—one not of amusement, but of frustration turned to stone. "That’s what you never understood about me," he said quietly, but with weight.

"We’ve spent too long shackled by ideals and memories," he continued, his eyes on the stone wall as if seeing all of Samsara just beyond it. "We live on land with the power to conquer a continent, yet we choose to sit still... in the name of ’humanity.’"

He turned his gaze back to Diana, sharp and burning with fanatic conviction. "Tell me, Auntie... which is better? To be conquered... or to be the conqueror?"

Diana shook her head, tears slowly falling—not from weakness, but from overwhelming sorrow."You’ve chosen the wrong path, Malik," she said, her voice trembling. "You’re leading this sultanate into ruin... not victory."

Malik stepped back a pace, lifting his chin. "No," he said coldly. "I’m guiding Samsara toward domination. Power that bows to neither demons... nor gods."

He glanced behind him, giving a subtle hand signal. The Janissary Hamzat, who had stood like statues, now began to move—slowly taking positions near the door and around the room.

Malik then turned his eyes to the small takwin creature still standing in the center of the room. Its body trembled, eyes pleading, though it was unclear whether it understood its own existence. But there was no mercy in Malik’s stare.

"This isn’t about experiments. Not about sin or purity," he said, spreading his fingers. "This is about power. And to lead the world, one must show they can control life... and death."

With a single smooth gesture, the sand clinging to Malik’s arm vibrated, forming thin needles that hovered in the air. Before Diana could scream, the sand needles shot forward—piercing the takwin’s neck with deadly precision.

The creature fell silent. Its body twitched once, then froze in a bowed position, like a broken doll. Its blood—if it could be called that—didn’t run red, but clear like stained holy water.

Princess Diana stood motionless, her breath caught. The sight crushed her chest—not just from the life lost... but from the reality that Malik had strayed too far.

Without looking back, Malik turned, his cloak fluttering softly behind him as he exited the dungeon cell. His cold voice lingered in the damp, dim air. "This isn’t about right or wrong anymore, Auntie," he said before disappearing behind the iron door. "It’s about who survives."

In the long corridor of ancient stone and iron, Malik’s footsteps echoed like the toll of death. He walked with certainty, unhurried, as if time itself were his to command.

"Prepare the execution," Malik said to one of the Janissary Hamzat guards without turning. His voice was flat, like issuing a logistical order—not commanding a slaughter. "We need to draw Farid here. I won’t allow any stones on the path to my future."

The guard gave a slow nod, then signaled two others. They immediately dispersed, carrying out the order like whispers of fate flowing toward the execution already designed.

Meanwhile, in the now silent cell, Princess Diana sat motionless, her back against the stone wall.She stared at the small creature before her—a takwin in bird form with a human face, now lying still. It no longer moved, but its blank gaze still screamed.

A tear slid gently down her cheek. She didn’t cry for the creature’s death, but for something far greater: the collapse of morality in the bloodline she once swore to protect.

The sky over Samsara began to change color hours later. The sun slipped westward, and storm clouds rolled in to mask its light.

As if the heavens themselves refused to witness what was about to unfold.

---

In the heart of the city, a large wooden stage had been erected, tightly guarded by the Janissary Hamzat and Malik’s loyalists. A noose hung from the center of the platform, swaying gently in the wind—dancing on the edge of death.

Crowds of citizens began to gather. Some were staunch supporters of Malik, believing that absolute power was the only way out of ruin. Others came just to witness a spectacle—miracles, blood, or simply to prove they were still alive and not worth suspecting.

From atop the stage, Malik stood tall, cloaked in a long black robe embroidered with gold. He raised his hand into the air, and the cheers of his followers echoed across the plaza, forming a wave of madness that could not be stopped.