Chapter - 20 The Molds
Upon finishing the blueprint, Aman stared at the parchment with glowing eyes. Every line etched with a plan, every curve and annotation screamed of a dream reborn. "Now comes the fun part," he muttered.
The components were clear in his mind. The rotor -- a central axis forged from iron, precise and balanced. The coils -- strands of copper wire tightly wound to conduct mana-induced current. The magnets -- iron cores energized to pulse like a heart. Back on Earth, this would be weekend hobby work, but here… here it was invention.
The plastic parts? Replaced with wood. Not only a decent substitute, but also naturally non-conductive. He'd already selected hardwood from the market -- dense and resistant to heat, ideal for stability.
"I can't buy these. I have to make them," Aman whispered to himself. His fingers tapped on the table rhythmically -- the tempo of a mind that was planning the impossible.
The challenge: forming the iron pieces. For that, he needed a mold.
Ceramic mold? Out of question. The time, the temperature, the tools -- not feasible here.
Graphite? Too rare.
Metal molds? Too advanced.
That left him with the basics.
Sand molds.
"That should work," he said, standing up. "The ancient way." He recalled reading how sand casting was the grandfather of all metal shaping. Primitive but effective.
He needed the right kind of sand -- not too fine, not too coarse. Beach sand wouldn't work, it was too smooth and glassy. Clay-bonded green sand was the best, but what he had access to… Riversand. Coarse, irregular, with enough grit to bind when moistened just right.
---
After settling his thoughts about the mold, Aman stepped out of the inn and headed toward the city's bustling market. The morning sun cast long shadows, and the streets hummed with the low murmur of life. He needed more wood for mold frames--and perhaps a few tools for precise carving and shaping.
Navigating the familiar alleys, he made his way to a general craftsman's shop tucked behind a spice vendor. Just as he pushed open the creaky wooden door, a sharp voice inside cut through the noise.
"...Thirty percent for the next six months?! That's madness!"
Inside, a small crowd had gathered near the counter. The air was tense. Aman paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. A group of rough-looking men were arguing with the shop manager, who looked pale but was trying to hold his ground.
"The new tax rates are official!" a man insisted. "They came directly from the mayor's office this morning. I--I don't make the rules!"
Aman's ears perked up. Thirty percent? That wasn't just harsh--it was suicidal for common folk and small businesses.
Suddenly, one of the men--a bulky brute with a scar running down his jaw--stood up from a nearby chair, his expression twisted with rage. Before anyone could react, he turned and swung his arm at a young woman beside him.
Time slowed.
The people in the shop gasped, some flinched, but no one moved in time. The woman instinctively closed her eyes, bracing for impact.
But the slap never landed.
A strong hand caught the man's wrist mid-air, stopping it cold.
Aman stood between them, his expression unreadable but eyes sharp as blades.
"Now, now," he said calmly, his voice low and steady. "Let's not do this here."
With a simple twist, he pushed the man's arm aside and let go. The brute stumbled back a step, glaring. The rest of his group rose from their seats, anger rising like smoke.
"Who the hell do you think you are, kid?" one of them spat. "You wanna die early?"
Aman didn't flinch. Without saying a word, he reached to his side and loosened the sheath of his sword just enough to reveal the glint of steel. His other hand stayed relaxed but ready.
"You might wanna rethink that," Aman said, quiet but clear. "You lay hands on someone here again, and I won't just be catching your arm."
The tension thickened. The leader snarled, but his eyes flicked between Aman's steady gaze and the sword. After a few heartbeats, he cursed under his breath and signaled his group.
"Tch. Let's go."
The thugs shoved past Aman and exited the shop, leaving behind a silence almost louder than their shouting.
The woman they'd tried to strike--Aarshi--opened her eyes slowly, looking stunned. She stared at Aman, her breath shaky. "You…"
Aman gave her a faint nod, then turned to the manager. "I'll take the wood and the tools. The usual kind."
As the manager scrambled to fetch the supplies, Aarshi stepped forward.
"I didn't expect you to step in," she said softly.
Aman glanced at her. "I didn't expect to need to."
They held each other's gaze for a second longer than necessary, the weight of unspoken things hanging between them--fear, gratitude, confusion, and something else.
"Do you work here?" Aman asked, his gaze steady, locked onto Aarshi's eyes.
She hesitated, then looked away, nodding. "Yes."
"I have a job for you," he said bluntly. "I'm building something... a motor. I need an assistant. I'll pay ten mana stones for the week."
Aarshi's lips parted in disbelief. "T-Ten… mana stones?"
Her voice faltered, the weight of the number hitting her like a thunderclap. Ten mana stones… that was over a thousand gold coins. Enough to feed a common family for years--enough to afford medicine, food, and maybe even a miracle for her sick mother.
She swallowed hard. Her instincts screamed to be cautious, to say no, but desperation clawed at her resolve.
"…Okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Aman's eyes didn't leave her, his expression unreadable--like he was studying something beyond her face, trying to piece together something that didn't quite fit.
He should've walked away. Taxes, shops, strangers--none of it was his concern.
And yet, something felt wrong. And his instincts, honed over countless risks and escapes, wouldn't let him ignore it.
The manager returned just then with the bundle of tools and wood. Aman nodded in thanks, strapping the goods to his side. Aarshi turned to the man and quietly explained her absence for the coming week.
"I'll be working with him," she said, gesturing to Aman. "I won't be in the shop."
The manager frowned, surprised, but didn't question it.
Aman turned on his heel. "Let's go."
Without another word, the two stepped out of the shop and disappeared into the city's shifting crowd.
---
Soon, they stumbled upon the same group that had caused trouble in the shop. This time, it wasn't a coincidence--they were clearly waiting. Their eyes locked onto Aman the moment he appeared.
"There! That's the guy who rejected the new 30% tax," one of them whispered to a man beside him. The man he spoke to hadn't been in the shop earlier--tall, broad-shouldered, with a hardened look in his eyes. This one wasn't a loudmouth. He was the kind you didn't want to pick a fight with.
Tension crackled.
Then came a voice that cut through it like a blade.
"Who the fuck said I was against taxes?" Aman said, stepping forward, his tone sharp and laced with mockery. "I don't even live here. Don't own a business either."
"Huh? Then why the hell did you start a fight with us in the shop?"
Aman's eyes narrowed. "Because one of you was about to slap my girlfriend. What was I supposed to do? Applaud?"
Aarshi nearly choked beside him, her cheeks flushing red.
He stepped closer to the tall man, his hand resting casually on his sword's hilt. "Now get the fuck out of my sight... or die."
No one moved. The air turned heavy. But they didn't dare push it.
Aman turned his back on them without hesitation and walked off like they were already ghosts. Aarshi stumbled after him, still wide-eyed.
As they reached the edge of the city, she finally found her voice.
"W-Where are we going?" she asked, still trying to catch her breath.
"Lake," Aman replied.
"Lake? Why?"
"We're going to use river sand for the molds." He reached into his coat and pulled out a rolled parchment, handing it to her. "Speaking of which… here's the blueprint for the motor we'll be working on."
She blinked, unrolling it as she walked. "Motor? What's that?"
He smiled, eyes gleaming. "A toy from my childhood. Something that spins... and maybe spins this whole world upside down."
---
"Something that spins?" Aarshi frowned, looking at the blueprint. "Why would you need such a complex structure just to spin something? Can't you spin a wheel with your hand?"
Aman chuckled. "Nah… it spins using electricity."
"Electricity?" she asked, confused.
"You'll find out once you see it."
They walked through the winding streets until Aman stopped in front of a coal shop tucked between a blacksmith and a dried herb vendor. The walls were stained with soot, and the air smelled like burnt metal and ash.
"I need coal. The hard kind. Dry," Aman told the shopkeeper.
The old man behind the counter squinted at him. "How much?"
"Enough to run a forge. A small one."
"You making weapons?" the man asked, curiosity piqued.
Aman smirked. "Something far stranger."
Coins exchanged hands. The shopkeeper had his assistant load a couple of sacks onto a cart. Aman dragged it with practiced ease, as if he'd done it countless times.
Soon, they reached the lake's edge. The breeze was crisp, the water calm, and birds chirped in the background like the world was at peace--for now.
"Perfect," Aman said, looking at the patch of land near the lake. "This is the spot. Let's make molds."
He began collecting riversand, carefully packing it into the wooden mold frame he'd made earlier. As his hands moved rhythmically, he started humming a tune.
Then the hum became words.
"I found a love… for me… darlin' just dive right in… follow my lead…"
Aarshi looked up, eyebrows raised. "First love?"
"One-sided," Aman said with a slight smile.
"You should've confessed."
"I know," he replied, voice soft. "But I was afraid. What if I couldn't be a good man? Then I died… so that's that."
"…Died?"
"Yeah… kinda, sorta. Let's not dwell on that," he said, brushing it off.
He kept singing.
"Well, I've found a girl… beautiful and sweet…"
For a moment, Aarshi just stared at him--this strange man from gods-know-where, talking about electric motors, humming songs that didn't belong in this world, and making something no one around them understood.
Then she knelt beside him and began shaping her own mold.
"Oh, I never knew you were the someone… waiting for me…"
The lake shimmered behind them. Two people working on a forgotten shore, building a piece of the future out of nothing but sand, fire, and fragments of a lost world.
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End of Chapter 20