"Alright," Farid finally said, his eyes soft but still carrying the weight of a ruler’s authority. "For that scroll, I’ll make an exception. You can take it with you. I’ll speak directly with the library curator and get special permission for you."
Ren almost couldn’t believe it. "Seriously?"
Farid nodded. "Yes. But I ask one thing in return. May I?"
Ren gave a casual shrug. "Yeah, if it’s sothing I can do, then I don’t mind."
The young sultan leaned back in his chair and stared directly at Ren. "Because I’ve never seen technology like yours before... I want to ask you sothing plainly. You must co from a very distant land. And... about the rumors of heroes summoned from the western kingdom—are you one of them?"
Ren took a breath, then nodded. "That’s right."
His honesty made Farid raise an eyebrow. "You’re not denying it?"
"What’s the point in denying it?" Ren replied flatly. "If I wanted to keep it a secret, I wouldn’t be flying around the city in glowing armor."
Farid chuckled softly. "Fair enough... Then here’s my request."
Ren waited, slightly tense.
"Give one—just one—piece of technology from your world. Sothing that can help with farming and irrigation in this desert land."
Ren blinked slowly, then let out a small laugh. "I thought you were going to ask for sothing complicated. Alright then, I won’t just give you a tool—I’ll give you a system."
Farid looked at him with hopeful eyes. "I’m counting on you, Nico."
---
A few days later, the lecture hall of a small college in Samsara was packed with scholars, rural nobles, and even a few mbers of the Band of Massiah and the Hassasin. All sat neatly on worn wooden benches, the air tense with curiosity. Silence fell as Ren stepped onto the small stage, standing in front of a blackboard covered with diagrams and maps—simple modules he had crafted himself from wooden boards. All eyes watched him with eager attention as he began to speak.
"Good morning," he said, his voice calm and authoritative. "Today I’m going to share sothing that might sound unfamiliar to so of you—modern aligulture, a water-saving farming thod from another world." He turned toward the blackboard. "You all know... the spices that grow here are excellent, but desert sumrs make food distribution a serious challenge. Modern aligulture might just be the answer."
Ren drew a simple irrigation pattern on the board—a drip system resembling branching nerves, dotted with tiny holes. "With this system—" he pointed to a model soil basin and paired cups "—water slowly seeps directly into the roots. No evaporation, no runoff. You save between 50 to 70 percent of water usage, and your harvests can increase dramatically."
A rural noble raised his hand, his expression serious. "Can this system work in the fields surrounding our village? Our well water is extrely limited."
Ren smiled and shrugged lightly. "Of course. You just need simple tools—long bamboo-like tubes with holes. You can even build canopy roofs from palm leaves to reduce heat and evaporation."
He handed out printed sheets—diagrams, lists of simple tools, and water flow ratios. Two mbers of the Band of Massiah scribbled notes furiously; they had seen too many children go hungry during long dry seasons. "This is incredible," one whispered while jotting down with black ink. His brother added, "This is how we can really help our villages."
Ren stepped to the center of the hall, looking at the audience with firm conviction. "I know many of you face hardship, especially living in a region where eighty percent is desert and your food options are limited. It’s not that I don’t respect your traditions and way of life, but rember—the world is vast. There are many things worth trying, seeing, and experiencing. That’s why knowledge of nature matters. It helps us understand the world far beyond the borders of our towns or villages. That’s all. Thank you for attending my short class."His voice was soft, yet full of confidence—like planting seeds of hope into every heart in the room.
Suddenly, the hall erupted into thunderous applause. The audience rose to their feet, clapping and shouting words of thanks with proud smiles. anwhile, Ren grabbed his coat, bowed respectfully, and left the room. Behind the door, a storm of conversation broke out—hundreds of voices buzzing with excitent over new ideas and plans. They couldn’t wait to put their knowledge into practice, talking about garden layouts, irrigation experints, and even new spice-cooking strategies inspired by Ren’s suggestions.
The next day, Ren enjoyed a quiet stroll through the city. He tried out various desert-region delicacies—spice carré, desert seed pasta, and warm dried-fruit tea. So of the seminar participants caught up with him, chatting casually about the class and asking follow-up questions they hadn’t had ti for.
Laughter and satisfied sighs blended with the sounds of pedestrians, giggling children, and the rich aroma of spices wafting through the streets. Ren’s life had beco more colorful—not just as a researcher or a tech warrior, but now also as a laid-back, humble teacher.
But behind that peaceful day-to-day, one thing never left his mind: Damakus steel. The mysterious material had beco his obsession—how it could repair itself, how it fused cracks back together, and how it might be the key to upgrading the Mark II. In his van’s workshop, Ren ran new experints daily. Ultro, his AI, helped analyze the test results—reading microstructural changes as the steel was heated and cooled. But results remained inconclusive: Ultro’s database couldn’t identify the exotic composition of the tal, and every iteration confird just how many scientific mysteries this world held—mysteries far beyond Earth’s technology.
Ren switched on a small lamp and reassessed the tools laid out on the tal worktable. His portable welder suddenly felt like a stage for discovery, with a coil of Damakus steel lying in the center. "Ti for the next phase," he murmured to himself. That night, he wouldn’t rely only on heat or cooling—he was going to add a new dinsion: sound.
He installed a small microphone and a repurposed amplifier salvaged from an old speaker. With cables neatly arranged, he prepped a frequency generator and sound emitter to test whether soundwaves—at certain vibration ranges—could enhance the molecular behavior of Damakus steel. "The scroll said... if we can sync the sound frequencies... the regeneration might trigger," Ren thought as he connected the resonance sensors to the tal’s surface.
Ultro’s indicator blinked once as the system ca online.『Master, base frequency is ready to broadcast. Shall we begin?』 the AI asked in a neutral tone.
Ren nodded. "Start with 432 Hz—natural stable frequency."He pressed the button, and a soft tone began to hum from the speaker. The steel emitted a faint glow as resonance seeped into its microstructure.
He monitored the graph on Ultro’s display: peaks and valleys of the frequency pulsed on one side, while the temperature sensor barely moved. Data logging kicked in, capturing dramatic changes in entropy values and fracture coefficients. "Look at that..." he whispered in awe. "A five percent drop in fracture coefficient in just ten minutes."
He continued, one experint after another, ramping up the frequency to 528 Hz, 640 Hz, and even as high as 1 kHz while tracking the steel’s response. At 640 Hz, the sensors picked up sothing extraordinary: the steel’s crystal structure began reintegrating into microfractures—visibly closing the gaps. "There it is... micro-synchronization. Karst resonance is kicking in," Ren muttered, eyes locked on the screen.
But he didn’t stop there. Night stretched on. After two hours, he held the temperature steady and switched to pulse frequencies, configuring the sound module as an ophthalmic trigger."Ultro, activate 640 Hz pulse mode—two seconds on, one second off."
『Pulse mode engaged, Master.』 Ultro confird.
As the pulses echoed through the tal, electromagnetic sensors picked up a feedback signal—possible signs of molecular magnetization shift. The recovery graph spiked; the steel’s microstructure was regenerating faster, and Ren could physically see strange reactions rippling across the surface.
"I can’t believe it... it’s actually working," he murmured, leaning closer to the coil of steel.
He logged every detail—frequencies, temperatures, sensor pressure, even acoustic energy coupling. Ultro processed it all with precise accuracy. Over the course of the night, Ren ran five separate trials—changing sound environnts from liquid, to gas, to micropressure, with slight temperature variations. Each experint showed the sa pattern: sound synchronization triggered molecular-level responses without the need for extre heat.
As the desert wind whispered gently against the walls of the semi-portable workshop, Ren closed his final notebook. Before him, Damakus steel was no longer untouchable—it was now ready to be forged into a weapon.
This wasn’t just a breakthrough. It was the foundation for the Mark III, the long-dread upgrade that had lived in his mind for months. No longer just protective armor—it would be a living fusion of science and divinity from this world.
Ren exhaled deeply, a smile forming on his face. He cleaned the worktable of cables and tools, then powered down the amplifier and logging systems connected to Ultro. The displays dimd to a soft glow, showing the final results—crack recovery at 80%, resistance to deformation greatly improved. More than enough to confirm that the Mark III prototype would far surpass its predecessors.
With tired but satisfied steps, he walked over to the small window on the side of the workshop. Outside, the night sky stretched wide, sprinkled with stars that seed to celebrate his achievent. "Now I just need to finish the Mark III ahead of schedule," he murmured. His voice was quiet, but the resolve in his eyes was unmistakable.
But his work wasn’t done. There were still duties to fulfill before diving headfirst into his insane new project. He stepped back into the van’s main room, switched on the soft light, and opened a box of dry food. "Alright, it’s dinnerti," he called out.
Alfred and Bella—the two massive tigers who had beco his companions—looked up from their resting corner. Their three cubs followed, stepping lightly with eager energy, making Ren smile softly.
"Tomorrow... we move out again," he said, scooping dried at into each bowl. "The Penal Plains are close. Just one more trip, and you’ll all be ho."
The van’s interior felt warm with their presence, and even if Ren walked this path of invention alone, he knew—on this journey, he was never truly by himself.
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