Knowledge is Power (3)
Time flowed equally for everyone. But in Eisengrad, it seemed to pass just a little faster than elsewhere. The midsummer sun had lost its fury, and a cool early autumn breeze now swept across the plains. As the seasons changed, the territory's landscape transformed beyond recognition.
The most striking change was the city's expansion. Just a few months ago, drab tent villages clustered with refugees on the outskirts had dotted the map. Now they were gone entirely, absorbed into the growing development zone as the bustling Second Residential District. In their place stood rows of sturdy, standardized wooden houses aligned in neat grids.
Education had changed too. Lessons that once huddled under tents on muddy ground that turned to slop in the rain, with a single blackboard, were now ancient history. In their stead rose a respectable three-story building—the Eisengrad Engineering Academy—standing tall like a new landmark for the territory.
It might bear the grandiose name "academy," but it lacked the elegance of the Imperial Academy. Still, the biggest shift was in the eyes of the territory's people. The dynamite demonstration had lit a fire under their long-dormant thirst for knowledge with its mountain-shattering roar. Naturally, no one was content to stop there.
From the top 5% of students by grades, Kyle selected ten with exceptional manual dexterity and innovative thinking. He planned to bestow upon them the lofty title of junior researcher—along with a special gift he'd prepared in advance.
"What the hell is this? Looks like a magnifying glass..."
Grody turned the odd device over in his hands—a brass plate embedded with a tiny glass bead.
"It's called a microscope. An improved version of something that genius Leeuwenhoek dreamed up."
"Leeuwen-who-the-fuck?"
"Leeuwenhoek. The weirdo who saw the world through a single tiny glass bead."
Kyle called the apprentices over one by one.
"Come on, everyone. Peer through the lens. It's just a drop of water from that stagnant puddle."
Serina was first, pressing her curious eye to the lens. A second later—
"Kyaaah!"
She screamed and toppled backward.
"W-what is that?! Monsters in the water! They're wriggling... Eugh, disgusting!"
"Monsters?"
Grody and the other apprentices peered in skeptically—then recoiled in horror just like her. The magnified view teemed with countless microorganisms squirming in a frenzy.
Kyle smirked at their terrified faces.
"See? That's the culprit behind food spoilage: microbes."
"Th-those things were in our food?!"
"Yep. Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they're not there. They multiply, spew toxins, spoil the food—and anyone who eats it gets sick and dies."
He stepped to the blackboard and wrote two tasks:
[Sterilization]
[Sealing]
"Serina, kill those nasty bugs with heat. Grody, armor it up so they can't get back in."
"Ugh, gives me chills just thinking about it."
Serina rubbed her goosebumped arms as she boiled meat soup.
"Die! All of you! You disgusting monsters!"
Maybe it was the trauma from witnessing it under the microscope, but she sterilized the soup jars by dunking them in furiously boiling water like she was avenging a grudge.
The sealing was the problem.
"Glass jars shatter too easily! One bump in transport and it's all ruined!"
Grody swept up shards and fetched a fresh thin steel sheet.
"Hmm... Roll the steel into a cylinder... Lid on top... But how to seal the gaps?"
"Instructor! What about soldering? Melt lead and fill the seams—no air gets through!"
Grody eagerly started melting a lump of lead. Right then—
Crash!
"Stop!!!"
The crash and thunderous roar shook the lab. Grody froze, lead in hand.
"L-Lord? What's wrong?"
"What do you think you're sealing with? Lead? Are you insane?"
Kyle snatched the lead from Grody's grip.
"Lead's poison! Seal food containers with it, and everyone who eats the contents dies!"
"P-poison? But we use it for pipe joints..."
"Not for drinking water either. Keep it away from anything near food."
Grody and the apprentices went mute as dumbfounded bees.
"Th-then what? To seal gaps perfectly, we need to melt metal..."
Kyle caught his breath and pointed to a corner of the storeroom.
"Tin instead of lead. Use tin."
"Tin?"
"Yeah. Melts easy like lead, simple to work with, but barely any toxicity. Sure, it's way pricier than lead—but cheaper than human lives."
"Oh ho..."
Grody grabbed a tin ingot and got melting. He rolled the steel sheet into a can, fitted the lid, and meticulously soldered the seams with molten tin. He left just one tiny needle-hole in the lid.
"Boil it to suck out the air through this hole, then plug it with a drop of tin at the end! That'll make a perfect vacuum inside!"
Fortnight later, a historic unveiling took place in the academy courtyard.
On the table sat meat soup that Serina had high-heat sterilized and Grody had sealed in his steel can—left at room temperature for two weeks. Dust coated the exterior.
Onlookers pinched their noses and backed away.
"Gotta be rotten by now. Two weeks!"
"Won't it stink?"
But as Grody pried the lid with pliers and hammer—
Pssht!
The distinctive hiss of a can opening. Proof of the airtight seal.
And then... "...Huh?"
A rich meat soup aroma wafted everywhere. No rotten stench—just the fresh scent of soup straight from the pot.
Kyle took the first taste as demo. Perfect, no issues.
Ella followed, spoon trembling as she sipped.
"...It's delicious! Same as two weeks ago!"
"Ooooh!"
Cheers erupted. With just hot water and sealing tech, they'd halted nature itself.
"We... we overturned common sense."
One apprentice caressed the empty steel can like a treasure.
That night, after the canning triumph, Kyle skimmed the research logs penned by his junior researchers with a satisfied smile.
"Thin steel sheets for sealing, prolonged high heat to kill germs... Solid process."
"The apprentices are clamoring to build a food factory for the Roselin Company with this tech. Insist on designing it themselves."
"Good momentum. Food problem solved."
He rose and approached a cloth-covered contraption in the corner of the lab.
"Now, on to the next phase."
"Next phase? What now?"
Grody sounded exasperated but eyed it curiously.
There sat a coil of copper wire, horsehoe magnets slotted between, and a hand-crank on an unfamiliar machine.
"Grody, Serina. Remember the electromagnetism I taught you?"
"Electromag-what? The headache stuff?"
Grody scowled.
"Magnets move, invisible force flows in nearby metal. Electromagnetic induction."
"Oh, that... Shaking the magnet in the coil made the needle twitch? So what? What good's a twitching needle?"
Serina still saw it as a neat toy.
Kyle tossed them safety goggles.
"Put 'em on. Unless you wanna go blind."
"Huh?"
Instead of answering, he brought the two sharp carbon rods wired to the copper ends close together. Gripped the crank.
"Watch. This is what you learned in action."
Click-click-whirr!
Cranking furiously, the internal magnets spun wildly between the coils. Moments later—
Crackle! Boom!
A piercing blue flash erupted between the rods. The dark lab lit up like noon.
"Gah!"
"Kyaa!"
Grody and Serina screamed, collapsing to the floor.
"L-lightning?! That was lightning!"
Grody scrambled back in panic. Serina clamped pale hands over her mouth.
"Lord! That's lightning magic! How, without a mana stone...?"
Crackle...
Stopping the crank snuffed the raging blue flames, leaving only smoke. But acrid ozone hung thick in the air.
"Not magic. Electricity."
A scene he'd seen plenty in his past life, so Kyle explained calmly.
"Artificial lightning from spinning magnets. That was an arc discharge."
"I-insane... Just cranking makes lightning?!"
Grody caressed the machine in disbelief. The former "toy" now looked divine.
"This is by hand. Now imagine..."
He pointed out the window at the factory district.
"Hooking this to one of those massive steam engines?"
Grody's eyes quivered. Engineer instinct supplied the answer.
"...Endless massive lightning. Forever."
"Bingo. If steam engines are our territory's heart, electricity will be its eyes."
"Eyes?"
"Yeah. This fierce light turns night to day. Ride this power down thin wires to swap news across a thousand miles in an instant."
A future beyond their wildest dreams. While mages lit torches and dispatched riders, they'd wield light and converse at electric speed.
"Grody, Serina. Come here. Next assignment."
He tossed them thick textbooks—his all-nighters summarized into notes.
"Master the principles by next project. Draw up generator blueprints."
They caught the tomes blankly. Hell's gates yawned before them again.
"L-Lord? This thing's as thick as my arm! When do we read it, design it? We need sleep too..."
Kyle patted Serina's shoulder with a benevolent smile.
"Don't worry, Serina. It's scientifically proven."
"W-what?"
"Humans don't die for three days without sleep."
"...Pardon?!"
Serina blanched. Grody gaped like a fish.
Kyle savored their despair with twisted glee. Now he understood why his grad advisor back on Earth grinned at him locked in the lab.
No escape for you, slaves.