The sunlight slanted through the narrow workshop window, casting faint streaks of gold onto the scattered tools and metal fragments across the stone floor.
Virendra stood near the workbench, his sleeves rolled up, sweat clinging to his brow.
His hands were coated in fine iron dust, and his eyes narrowed with sharp focus.
Before him lay a strange, black stone, roughly the size of his palm.
It clung tightly to a small iron blade he had placed nearby.
He slowly peeled the metal away, only to watch in fascination as the stone pulled it back again.
"A natural magnet," he murmured under his breath, his eyes gleaming with interest.
He tilted his head slightly, observing the strange stone with a mixture of curiosity and excitement.
A memory from his past life flickered in his mind—the lesson on magnetism and its link to electricity.
The sudden realization made his pulse quicken.
"If I can harness this…" he whispered, his heart pounding.
"I can generate power."
---
The next morning, Virendra rode out to the outskirts of Kuntala, accompanied by a few of his personal guards.
They traveled to the hills where iron deposits were common, searching for more magnetic stones.
It took hours of careful excavation, but eventually, they gathered several pieces of naturally magnetic lodestone.
Back in his workshop, Virendra worked tirelessly for days.
He fashioned crude spinning mechanisms, using:
Copper wires salvaged from broken crossbow components.
Iron rods from the weapon smelters.
Thin wooden disks for makeshift coil supports.
He carefully rotated the magnet near the copper coil, hoping to generate even the faintest current.
But no spark came.
His jaw clenched with frustration.
He adjusted the positioning, tried different speeds, and changed the direction of the magnetic pull.
Still, nothing.
---
For two weeks, Virendra labored in obsessive silence.
The forge workers had grown used to the faint smell of scorched wood and the clatter of discarded metal.
But progress was minimal.
No matter how many times he adjusted the coil length or the magnet's rotation, he could not generate a consistent current.
He realized, with a grim sense of frustration, that his knowledge of electrical engineering was too basic.
What once seemed like a simple concept in his past life was now a monumental challenge.
He knew about magnetism and current, but lacked the intricate details needed to design an efficient generator.
"Damn it!" he growled, slamming his fist against the table.
The copper wires shook slightly, the magnet rolling away.
---
That evening, Yashodhara found him in his workshop, his face streaked with soot, eyes heavy with exhaustion.
She observed the tangled mess of wires, broken wood, and scorched metal.
Her brows furrowed with concern.
"You've been isolating yourself again," she said softly, her voice carrying a maternal edge of worry.
"What are you doing here?"
Virendra sighed heavily, running a hand over his face.
He stared at the uncooperative generator, his expression grim and fatigued.
"I'm trying to create something… powerful," he replied, his voice rough from lack of sleep.
"Something that could change everything."
She stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"At what cost?" she asked firmly.
"You look half-dead, Virendra. Kuntala needs you sharp, not broken."
He glanced at her—for a moment, the fire in his eyes dulled, replaced by the weariness of repeated failures.
After a long pause, he nodded.
"You're right… I need time."
But in his heart, he knew he would not stop.
---
The next day, while walking through the northern farmlands, Virendra observed the water wheels turning slowly in the irrigation canals.
The sight sparked an idea.
"If I can rotate the magnets continuously…" he muttered, his eyes gleaming with sudden realization.
"Maybe I can generate a more consistent current."
He returned to his workshop with renewed energy.
Using:
Carved wooden planks from the weapon store.
Copper wiring from crossbow components.
Magnetic stones he had collected.
He constructed a small water wheel generator, positioning magnets along the rim and wrapping the copper wire coils in layers around the axle.
He connected the wheel to a flowing stream near the palace.
As the water turned the wheel, the magnets rotated steadily, pulling the copper wire coils into motion.
For a brief moment, nothing happened.
Then—a faint but steady current flowed through the wires.
His fingers trembled slightly as he dipped a thin iron rod into the current.
For a fleeting moment, the tip glowed faintly before the current sputtered out.
His lips parted slightly, heart racing.
"It worked," he whispered, eyes wide with awe.
"It's weak… but it worked."
---
Despite the success, Virendra's elation was short-lived.
The current was too weak and inconsistent.
Worse still, he had no way to store it.
There were no batteries, no capacitors—only primitive materials at his disposal.
The current flowed briefly, then dissipated.
Even after hours of testing, he could not retain the electricity long enough to use it.
"No means of storage…" he muttered bitterly, rubbing his temples.
The realization hit him with a crushing weight:
Even though he had successfully generated electricity, it was practically useless without a way to harness or store it.
---
The following day, Baldev and Jayvarma entered Virendra's workshop.
The sight of metal scraps and tangled wires made the older warrior's brow furrow.
"What madness have you conjured this time?" Baldev asked, folding his arms.
Virendra gestured silently toward the water wheel.
He rotated it slowly, allowing them to witness the brief electrical spark along the wires.
Jayvarma's eyes widened slightly, while Baldev's expression remained skeptical.
"And what will you do with a spark that cannot be stored?" Baldev asked dryly.
Virendra's eyes narrowed, a subtle smile tugging at his lips.
"Today, it's just a spark. Tomorrow, it might light the halls of Kuntala."
---
Though his victory was small, Virendra's determination remained unshaken.
He knew the road ahead would be long and difficult, but he had made a start.
Even if he had no way to store or utilize the electricity, the knowledge itself was a foundation.
He would continue experimenting, refining his designs slowly.
One day, he would make it more powerful, more consistent, and eventually useful.
For now, he allowed himself a rare satisfied smile.
The first spark of the future had been lit.
---
The small arc of electricity flickered weakly, dancing along the thin copper wire before sputtering out once again.
A faint trail of smoke curled from the charred tip, leaving behind a harsh, metallic stench.
Virendra sighed heavily, slumping against the rough stone wall of his workshop.
The faint, lingering glow of failure illuminated his exhausted face.
The water wheel generator whirred softly beside him, rotating with rhythmic consistency, but the current it produced was fleeting and useless.
No matter how much he adjusted the coil positioning or fine-tuned the magnets, he could not store or sustain the flow of power.
He stared at the failed contraption with a growing sense of frustration.
Despite his efforts, he was hitting a wall—his knowledge was simply too limited.
"What am I missing?" he muttered, clenching his fists.
The spark he had created was meaningless if he couldn't find a way to capture it.
---
That evening, Yashodhara found him once again in his workshop.
Her eyes softened at the sight of her son's slumped shoulders, his face etched with weariness.
She moved quietly, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.
"You've been at this for weeks, Virendra," she said softly, her voice filled with maternal concern.
"And you look no closer to success."
He didn't meet her gaze.
Instead, he stared blankly at the wires and magnets scattered across the table.
"I can't store it, Mother," he admitted bitterly, his voice hoarse with fatigue.
"I can create power, but it slips through my fingers. Like sand in the wind."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she crouched beside him.
For a moment, she studied his face, the same way she did when he was a boy struggling with his swordsmanship.
Then she spoke, her voice calm but firm.
"You cannot do everything alone, Virendra," she said evenly.
"Seek help. You have scholars and artisans—men whose life's work is dedicated to solving puzzles like this. Use them."
He glanced at her sharply, his jaw tightening.
The thought of involving others irked him.
His modern knowledge gave him an edge—it made him unique.
The idea of sharing it with people who lacked his understanding felt like surrendering his advantage.
But Yashodhara's eyes were unwavering.
"No great king or warrior thrives in isolation," she said softly.
"If you trust them, they will help you."
---
The next morning, Virendra summoned the royal scholars to his workshop.
There were nine in total—grey-bearded men with weathered hands and keen eyes, dressed in flowing robes of dark green and gold.
They entered the chamber with skeptical expressions, exchanging quizzical glances.
At the head of the group was Acharya Vishranth, a tall, thin man with sharp, observant eyes and a streak of white in his beard.
His gaze flickered briefly across the scattered contraptions on Virendra's table—water wheels, coils of copper wire, and charred iron rods.
"What manner of madness is this?" one of the scholars muttered, his voice barely audible.
Another snorted softly, casting a dismissive glance at the crude devices.
They clearly thought this was a waste of their time.
Only their obligations to the royal family kept them from voicing their doubts.
Virendra stood before them, his expression hard.
He knew they were skeptical, but he didn't care.
He launched into his explanation, his words measured and deliberate, carefully explaining:
The concept of magnetic induction.
The rotation of magnets generating current.
The challenge of storing the power.
The scholars listened in puzzled silence, their expressions stiff.
To them, he was speaking of impossibilities, of ethereal forces they couldn't fathom.
At first, they merely nodded politely, clearly humoring him.
But as Virendra pressed on, demonstrating the water wheel generator and the faint current it produced, he saw a change in their eyes.
Their skepticism faded, replaced by genuine curiosity.
When they saw the copper coil spark faintly with electricity, several scholars leaned forward, their eyes narrowing with interest.
---
As Virendra continued his explanations, he saw flickers of recognition in some of their eyes.
Though they lacked his knowledge of modern science, they were masters of metallurgy, alchemy, and natural forces.
They had deeply honed skills in manipulating:
Metal properties.
Chemical reactions.
Thermal conduction.
And suddenly, it clicked.
"If we coat a copper plate with acidic solutions," one of the younger scholars suggested, his eyes wide with excitement,
"it could create a charge imbalance."
Another scholar, rubbing his chin, nodded slowly.
"Yes… A controlled chemical reaction. It could mimic the spark."
One by one, the scholars began contributing ideas—their minds fired with creativity.
They suggested:
Primitive batteries made of copper and zinc plates submerged in vinegar or citrus juices.
Electrolyte solutions to hold the charge.
Crude, insulated containers to prevent the power from dissipating.
Virendra watched in awe, realizing he had severely underestimated them.
They lacked his concept of electricity, but their technical prowess far outstripped his own.
What he could only imagine, they could bring into reality.
---
For weeks, they worked in unison.
Under Virendra's guidance, the scholars crafted a rudimentary battery:
Copper and zinc plates were stacked alternately.
Saltwater-soaked cloth separated the layers.
The stack was sealed in clay jars to prevent leakage.
At first, the batteries produced weak, inconsistent currents.
But through refinements in the electrolyte solution, they gradually improved the charge.
Finally, one evening, after hours of adjustments, they connected the battery to a thin iron filament.
Virendra held his breath as the circuit closed.
The filament glowed faintly—a soft, golden light illuminated the dim workshop.
The scholars gasped, their eyes wide with disbelief.
Virendra exhaled slowly, his hands trembling slightly.
For the first time in history, they had successfully stored and used electricity.
---
But Virendra wasn't satisfied with simply storing the power.
He wanted to create something tangible.
Using glassblowers from the city, he commissioned the construction of a thin, hollow glass casing.
Inside, he placed a delicate iron filament, carefully sealing the bulb.
Once the copper-wire circuit was complete, he connected it to the battery.
The moment the current flowed, the filament glowed brightly, casting a warm, steady light.
The scholars stared in awed silence.
For the first time, light existed without fire.
The room was bathed in golden brilliance, its warmth and steadiness unlike anything they had ever seen.
Several scholars fell to their knees, whispering prayers of thanks, believing they had witnessed a miracle.
---
That night, Virendra stood alone in the workshop, staring at the glowing bulb.
His eyes were heavy with exhaustion but filled with satisfaction.
It was only a single bulb, but it was a glimpse into the future.
A future where Kuntala would no longer be bound by darkness.
He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of what they had accomplished.
He wasn't alone in this.
He had the minds and skills of his people beside him.
And together, they would reshape history.