Boston, USA — EarthThe air in the dusty basement was thick with the smell of solder, copper, and burnt toast. Somewhere, a kettle whistled softly, ignored. Leonard Keller, hunched and fragile with age, stared through thick goggles at the array of wires humming on the table. His hands shook, but not with fear.
"Three years," he whispered, voice a brittle echo. "Three years, fifteen failures. This better be it."
He pulled the final switch on his home-built "Temporal Anchor System," a brass-and-steel monstrosity cobbled together from scrapyard parts, old satellites, and a toaster oven. The idea was simple: jump backward ten seconds in time. Just ten.
The machine groaned.
The ceiling light flickered.
And then—everything imploded in silence.
Leonard didn't hear a boom. He felt a pull. Like the universe clenched its fist around him—and ripped.
Unknown Forest — Elarion
He awoke face down in wet moss.
His body felt… off. Lighter. Softer. It took a few seconds before he realized the hands in front of him were not wrinkled and trembling, but young, pale, and unfamiliar.
"What the… hell?"
His voice cracked.
Leonard scrambled to a nearby stream and stared at the reflection.
A boy. A child. Maybe twelve. Same messy brown hair he had as a kid. The same sharp blue eyes, but now wide with panic.
"No. No no no no—"
The machine. Something had gone wrong.
This wasn't a jump in time. This was another place entirely. Different constellations overhead. Different smell in the air. And no signs of home.
"Okay, Leonard," he muttered. "You built a dimensional tunneler instead of a time machine. Congratulations, idiot."
Elarion: A World of Magic
Within hours of wandering the outskirts of the mysterious forest, he spotted his first real proof—a floating wagon pulled by two glowing oxen, and a merchant shouting words that lit runes in midair.
Magic. Real, undeniable magic.
As a man of science, Leonard's first reaction wasn't awe—it was curiosity.
He begged for shelter in a nearby village called Rendell's Hollow, faking amnesia, calling himself Leo. The villagers took pity on him, thinking him a wandering orphan from the war-blasted North.
That night, as he lay in a haystack beneath a full moon with three stars circling it, Leo muttered to himself, "This is not Kansas anymore, old man. And I think… I think I'm supposed to do something here."
He didn't know it yet, but the world of Elarion was in decline. Magic was fading. Artifacts were rusting. No one was creating anything new.
Until now.
The next morning came with cold dew and chirping creatures Leo couldn't identify. He sat outside the barn where the kindly old woman, Mira, had let him sleep. She was a widow with no children, running a bakery with aching joints and a soft spot for "lost kids."
"Eat, child," she said, handing him warm bread filled with cheese and herbs. "You look starved."
Leo blinked at the bread like it was a holy relic. "This... is incredible."
"You act like you've never had food before," she said, chuckling.
He hadn't had food like this in decades. Homemade. Soft. Alive.
After breakfast, Leo wandered behind her home, trying to gather his thoughts. He needed to understand where—and what—he was dealing with. If he was stuck here, there were two priorities:
Survival.
Understanding the rules of this world.
He found broken tools behind Mira's shed—a rusted wheelbarrow, cracked lanterns, and busted clay pots. Junk to most people.
To him? It was raw material.
🧲⚙️ The First Spark of Science in a Magical World
By the afternoon, Leo had taken apart two broken lanterns and used the lenses, copper wires, and some vines to create a primitive magnifying glass. Not perfect—but enough to study something incredible he found behind Mira's house:
A shattered gemstone embedded with faint glowing lines. A mana crystal, he later learned.
When he held it up to the sun and looped it through his makeshift lens, something strange happened. The crystal vibrated. It sparked blue, briefly, then went dormant.
Leo's eyes widened.
"Conductive. Responsive. Photoreactive? What are you?"
This wasn't just a rock. This was a power source.
🏚️ Back in the Village
By evening, Mira introduced Leo to the villagers.
"This is Leo. Poor boy doesn't remember his past. But he's kind, polite, and smart. Already fixed my cooking clock!"
The villagers were kind. Suspicious, but kind.
One man, Erik, scoffed. "Fixed your clock? With what?"
"His hands," Mira smiled. "No spells. No chants. Just... tools."
Erik's brow furrowed. "What kind of magic is that?"
Leo hesitated. Then said carefully, "Where I come from… we don't use spells. We build. One piece at a time."
An awkward silence followed.
A child whispered, "Is he... a smithmage?"
"Don't be stupid," said another. "Smithmages are myths."
Leo just smiled and said nothing. He had no idea what a smithmage was—but if it kept them from freaking out, he'd roll with it.
🔧 That Night: The Crank-Lantern
By moonlight, Leo got to work.
He created his first true invention in Elarion: a crank-lantern—a spinning coil inside a metal casing wrapped with vine-string, passing over a glowing mana crystal. When he turned the crank, the motion excited the crystal, which lit up—no spell required.
Mira gasped when she saw it.
"You... made light? Without a spell?"
Leo grinned. "Technically, I made electricity. The crystal is reacting to—"
She touched his forehead. "Do you have fever?"
"No, no. It's real. Look—"
He cranked again. Bright blue light filled the shed.
The next morning, word had already spread.
🔥 The Village Reacts
Children gathered. A few adults peeked into the shed. Some stared at Leo like he was a prophet. Others looked afraid.
"What is that thing?" Erik asked, frowning.
"A lantern," Leo said, showing the crank. "No spell. Just motion and the right material."
"Did you enchant it?"
"No. It's physics."
"Fizz-what?"
Leo sighed. "It's... a science from where I come from. It's how we explain how the world works without magic."
That triggered hushed whispers. Mira stepped forward.
"I don't care if it's called phizzics or fae-trickery," she said, "That light helped me find my way to the well at night. It works. And that's all that matters."
Some of the villagers nodded. But not all.
Erik muttered, "He's tampering with cursed forces. There's a reason our people stopped tinkering."
Leo made a mental note. They fear invention. Why?
📘 That Night in the Attic
That evening, Leo asked Mira about what Erik had said.
"There was once a kingdom of builders," she told him, voice low. "Not mages. Builders. They made things with gears, steam, fire, lightning. Machines that moved mountains."
"What happened to them?"
"They vanished. Burned by their own creations, or hunted down by kings. The old folk say their inventions angered the stars."
Leo scoffed. "Or threatened the wrong people."
Mira shrugged. "All I know is, the world turned to magic, and science became taboo."
Leo stared out the window. A million stars shimmered over the foreign sky.
He was an old man reborn into a world allergic to progress. A world where his knowledge could reshape civilizations—or get him burned alive.
"Challenge accepted," he whispered.
The next morning, Mira found Leo outside her shed again, this time surrounded by torn parchment, sticks, wires, bits of copper, and glowing fragments of broken mana stones. He was mumbling equations and trying to sketch blueprints in the dirt with a broken quill.
"You haven't slept?" she asked, handing him a mug of warm nettle tea.
"Sleep is for the confident," Leo said, grinning, eyes bloodshot and wild. "I'm trying to reverse engineer this mana crystal."
Mira peered at the glowing shards. "Reverse... what now?"
"I'm learning what makes it tick."
"It doesn't tick. It pulses."
Leo held up one shard between two thin rods he fashioned from scrap forks and spider silk. The crystal glowed blue.
"Actually, it resonates when exposed to a specific vibration frequency. I think it's reacting to movement energy—kinetic activation. Like a battery that charges when you shake it."
Mira blinked. "You say that like I'm supposed to know what a battery is."
"You'll learn," he smiled. "Everyone will."
📜 Arrival of a Visitor
That afternoon, a stranger rode into Rendell's Hollow.
A lean man with long black robes, a silver trim around his shoulders, and a cane made of whitewood etched with symbols. His horse had silver armor on its hooves, which clinked softly with every step.
He dismounted slowly, surveying the village like a merchant appraising goods.
"Who is that?" Leo whispered from behind the bakery door.
Mira paled. "That's Magister Renn. From the Academy of Arcanum."
"Is that... a school?"
"It's the school. The High Circle of Magic. If he's here, someone told them what you made."
Leo felt a twist in his gut. "That bad?"
"Could be good. Could be... very bad."
🧙🏽♂️ The Magister's Interest
Magister Renn entered the bakery with practiced grace, nodding at Mira but letting his eyes fall on Leo immediately.
"You are the boy who built the lantern."
Leo stood straighter. "I am."
"You used no runes. No spell circles. No chant. Explain how it works."
Leo hesitated. Then said slowly, "Movement creates energy. That energy interacts with the mana crystal's natural resonance, causing it to emit light."
Renn studied him. "You speak like a scholar, but you have no aura. I sense no spellbound talent. How do you know such things?"
"I built them. In my world."
The magister's eyebrows rose. "You are... a foreigner?"
Leo tilted his head. "I think you'd call me that."
Renn stepped closer. "You understand crystals. Resonance. Structure. That is rare—even among our best artificers. Tell me, what else can you build?"
Leo considered. "Give me more time, more crystals, and some materials, and I'll show you."
🛠️ The Deal
Magister Renn looked intrigued.
"I propose an arrangement. Come with me to Arcanum. Study under the artificers. Let us teach you magic—and you teach us your... 'science.'"
Leo hesitated. "Will I be a student? Or a prisoner?"
"That depends entirely on what you build."
Mira stepped in. "He's just a boy—"
"No," Leo said, raising a hand. "It's okay. I want to go. I need to understand this world. And if this Academy has more tools, more knowledge—I'll take that bet."
Renn nodded, satisfied.
"I leave in two days. Be ready."
🧳 Preparation
Over the next 48 hours, Leo prepared like he was going to war.
He packed:
A bag of tools he made from forks, vines, and heated metal shards.
Five broken crystals he was still studying.
His notebook (stitched together from torn village parchment).
A chunk of obsidian embedded with glowing veins—something he found near the stream and believed to be a raw power core.
Mira cried the night before he left.
"You're a strange boy, Leo," she whispered. "Not like the others. Don't lose that."
He smiled. "Thanks for giving me a second chance at life."
"You're only twelve," she chuckled.
"You'd be surprised," he muttered.
🚂 Departure to the Capital
The magister's carriage was powered by bound wind spirits, which Leo found both fascinating and horrifying. It levitated two feet off the ground, silent but fast, guided by gestures Renn made with glowing sigils.
Leo sat across from the magister in silence, watching the countryside roll by. Every village, every tower, every floating isle made his mind race with possibilities. Every ruin whispered a story. Every magical object begged to be broken down and understood.
"This world," he thought, "is a puzzle. And I have the tools."
What he didn't know was that someone else in the Academy had already seen the lantern. Someone older. Someone who remembered the last time a "builder" came to this world.
And this time, they would not allow science to rise unchecked.
🏛️ Arrival at the Capital: Aethermark
As the carriage descended a winding cliff road, Leo saw it—Aethermark, the capital of the kingdom of Veyrin. A city suspended in tiers above the ground, with floating platforms, towers that touched the clouds, and bridges made of pure light connecting spires. It was a world far beyond any medieval fantasy he'd imagined back on Earth—part ancient civilization, part impossible dream.
And yet, something felt… stagnant.
"There's beauty," he whispered, "but no progress."
Magister Renn noticed his expression. "You disapprove?"
"It's breathtaking," Leo admitted. "But it feels like everything's built to be preserved, not evolved."
"You speak like a builder."
"I guess I am one."
🏫 Arcanum: The Grand Academy of Magic
They passed massive gates guarded by statues of dragons and titans, entered the enchanted lifts made of crystal and gold, and finally stood before the Central Tower of Arcanum—home to the oldest magical knowledge on the continent.
Students roamed in color-coded robes. Spell circles floated midair. Golems carried books. Elemental spirits drifted through the halls like butterflies.
Leo was the only one without a robe, without a wand, without an aura.
But he had something none of them had: a toolbox made from scrap and a brain filled with theorems, circuits, and Earth-born principles.
🧪 The Test
On the second day, Leo was brought before the Council of Arcane Arts. Five archmages. One artificer. And a crowd of skeptical students.
"We hear you crafted light from motion," said Archmage Teyra, a white-haired elf woman with a voice like frost. "Without incantation. Without glyphs. Show us."
Leo set the crank-lantern on the table. Took a deep breath.
Crank. Glow.
Gasps. Murmurs. One student fainted.
"Primitive," sniffed the artificer, a stout dwarf named Master Brum. "But clever."
"Where is the enchantment?" Teyra demanded.
"There isn't one," Leo said. "The movement charges the crystal through resonance. I can recreate it. Improve it. Mass-produce it. You've seen what magic can do. Let me show you what science can do with it."
A pause.
Then Brum leaned forward.
"Boy... build something bigger."
🛠️ Project: The Wind Engine
They gave him a forge room. Scraps of metal. Crystals.
Over three days, Leo barely slept. He melted copper, bent plates with heat runes, studied the pressure output of wind spirits, and finally built a wind engine—a simple fan system that rotated from air pressure alone, powered by a spinning mana disk.
It turned. It worked. It created motion without a spell.
It was just a fan—but in a world where motion required magic, it was revolutionary.
Some called it blasphemy. Others called it art.
Leo just called it version one.
🌩️ The Shadow That Watches
But not all eyes in Arcanum admired his genius.
From a high tower, a man watched Leo's test through a black mirror.
He wore no name, only a title: The Custodian.
He had once walked among the "builders" of the old age. He had seen their rise—and led their destruction. The Age of Science had nearly unmade the gods.
And now, it had returned... in the form of a twelve-year-old boy.
"Bring me everything on the child," The Custodian whispered to his apprentice. "Where he came from. Who he is. And if necessary…"
The mirror darkened.
"…how to unmake him."
🧑🔬 Meanwhile, in the Forge Room...
Leo sat cross-legged, oil on his face, a screwdriver between his teeth, and a vision in his mind.
A wind engine was just the start. What if he could build an electric coil system using mana stones? What if he designed a rudimentary generator? What if he made a flying machine—powered not by dragons or spirits—but by science?
His pulse raced. His soul, reborn in this young body, felt more alive than it ever had on Earth.
He wasn't just fixing this world.
He was re-inventing it.
🧩 End of Chapter 1: The Last Invention
"In a world where magic is inherited, he brought invention from memory.In a world that feared progress, he became its spark."