Chapter - 19 Fate
After some time, Aman stepped out of the exhibition hall. The buzz of voices and clanking tools faded behind him, replaced by the vibrant hum of the Vashishtpathi streets.
He let out a long sigh, his expression a mixture of disappointment and resignation.
"So this is what passes for 'advanced technology' here…"
He shook his head. "A heater that barely heats, and a sword sharpener I could've built in middle school."
But as he walked, something stirred inside him.
Something deeper than irritation.
A memory. A feeling. A childhood dream.
That old itch in his fingers… the desire to tinker, to build, to create. To put a screw in where it didn't belong. To pry open things just to see how they worked. To mod. To customize. To upgrade.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
"Wait a damn minute…"
His eyes widened.
"Why the hell haven't I made a proper toolkit yet?"
The thought hit him like a truck.
"Hammer? Check. Screwdriver? Double check. Saw? File? Vernier caliper? Spirit-level? Measuring tape? ALL OF IT--why haven't I got any of this yet?!"
He nearly smacked himself on the forehead.
"Dumbass! How do you expect to build tech if you don't even have the basics?"
People around glanced at him weirdly as he mumbled to himself with growing passion, but Aman didn't care. The fire of inspiration had lit up in his soul again.
"Alright, no more wasting time."
He tightened his grip on his pouch.
"Let's go. First stop: tool shops. I'm making the ultimate portable builder's kit."
With the determination of a man on a holy quest, Aman stormed through the city streets, heading toward the markets that whispered of steel, wood, and precision.
A new side project had begun.
—
Standing in front of the tool shop, Aman felt oddly nervous. Not the type of nerves you get before a fight--but the kind you feel before stepping into an interview with a Fortune 500 company.
"Okay. Clothes proper. No wrinkles. I don't look like I crawled out of a dungeon, right?"
He fixed his sleeves, combed his fingers through his hair.
"Hair set. No leaves from the forest stuck in them? Check. Breath... steady. Alright Aman, let's nail this."
Taking one last breath, he stepped up and gently opened the door, a small chime ringing as he walked in.
The scent of metal, oil, and wood greeted him like an old friend. Shelves lined with hammers, files, pliers, and strange tools he hadn't yet learned the names of in this world. His eyes sparkled like a kid who had just walked into a candy store--no, a toy shop. Every piece was a puzzle, a potential part of his next creation.
"Hmm... that file has a decent grit... but that saw over there? Clean teeth, that's precision steel...
Aman's hands itched to pick them up, rotate them, weigh them in his palm. But before he could take another step--
"Welcome to our shop, how may I--"
The voice trailed off.
Aman turned, and his brows slightly rose.
The shop assistant had frozen mid-greeting.
She was the same girl from the exhibition.
Aman recognized her instantly--the one who'd "harrumphed" and tried to escape after he caught her muttering. Her eyes widened like a deer caught in torchlight. She clearly hadn't expected to meet him again, and in her workplace of all places.
Aman, ever the smooth operator when it came to awkward situations, simply smiled.
"We meet again," he said with a charming tilt of his head, casually approaching the counter.
The girl looked like she just got slapped by fate itself.
"Ah--uh--I…" she fumbled her words, glancing left and right like she was about to bolt through the back door.
But catching Aman's genuine smile, she forced one of her own. "W-Welcome, how... how can I help you?"
"Tools," Aman said, still smiling, letting her squirm a little.
"I need to build... a lot of things. And for that, I need a starter kit. The good stuff. Nothing made to impress noobs, okay?"
"R-Right. I'll… I'll show you the pro rack." She turned around a bit too fast, knocking over a small container of nails with a metallic clatter.
Aman chuckled to himself.
"Damn such bad luck," the girl muttered under her breath.
Aman heard it, but said nothing--just followed her deeper into the shop, a little grin tugging at the edge of his lips.
—
Aman walked through the aisles of the tool shop like a man on a sacred pilgrimage.
Rows upon rows of metal tools gleamed under the warm yellow lights. Hammers of different weights, saws with differently sized teeth, chisels, pliers, clamps--his inner nerd wept in joy. His fingers trailed along the polished wood handles and steel edges like an artist admiring his brushes.
"May I know your name?" he asked casually, glancing at the shop assistant who was still recovering from her earlier awkwardness.
"Aarshi," she replied, her voice a little steadier this time.
"So, Aarshi… I have a rather long list of tools I want to purchase," Aman said with a friendly tone, "and there are a few specific designs I need. Would custom-made be an option?"
Aarshi blinked in surprise but quickly nodded. "Yes, sir. Tools can be custom made. You'll need to leave your name and address for the order. We usually deliver within three business days."
"Good!" Aman clapped softly and got to work.
He first picked out the essentials: a medium-weight hammer, a hand saw with a fine-tooth blade, a sturdy pair of pliers, a set of chisels in various sizes, a small hand drill, a basic rasp, and a file set.
As he laid them on the counter one by one, Aarshi began noting them down, occasionally glancing at him with curiosity. Aman handled each tool like a craftsman--checking the weight, the balance, the sharpness--his hands moved with the ease of experience.
Then came the custom orders.
He sketched quickly in a notebook he carried. A long cylindrical tool with a flat metal tip: the screwdriver. A flat metal bar with precise measurements etched in both small and large units: the ruler. A weighing scale with two metal pans and adjustable counterweights. A pipe wrench with a locking mechanism. And finally--a vernier caliper, complete with dual-scale jaws and a sliding scale.
Aarshi tilted her head, confused at one of the drawings.
"Um… sir? This one…" she pointed at the sketch of the screwdriver. "What is this metal quill-looking thing with… four small tooth-like blades?"
Aman smiled, amused. He picked up a small nail and mimed turning it into a piece of imaginary wood.
"This is called a screwdriver. It's used to drive these--screws--into wood or metal. The tip fits into a groove on the head of the screw and lets you twist it in tightly."
Aarshi squinted, confused. "Screws? I've only seen things hammered or tied…"
"Exactly," Aman said, his eyes twinkling. "That's why I need this made. Screws are going to be the future of construction and craftsmanship. No more nails, no more ropes. Precision. Stability."
She nodded slowly, still not entirely understanding, but clearly fascinated.
"And this?" she pointed at the vernier caliper. "Is this some kind of… clamp?"
Aman chuckled. "Measurement tool. It can measure the smallest of lengths with ridiculous accuracy. I'll show you once it's made."
Aarshi was quiet for a moment, watching Aman with an odd expression--part curiosity, part admiration, and part confusion.
"You're... not from around here, are you?" she asked suddenly.
Aman looked up and smiled.
"No, I guess I'm not."
He handed over the list and the required information, and Aarshi bowed slightly.
"Your order will be ready soon, sir. I'll personally make sure it's handled well."
Aman gave her a nod, gathered the bag of purchased tools, and turned toward the door.
As he stepped out, he paused for a second, glancing back at Aarshi with a knowing smirk.
"Next time we meet, I'll show you what a real screwdriver can do."
And with that, he disappeared into the crowded street, a bag full of tools in hand and a dozen ideas already forming in his head.
---
Almost completing one of his childhood dreams, Aman was in a visibly good mood--whistling a tune that didn't belong to this world as he strolled down the bustling streets of Vashishtpathi.
"If I'm going to pull this off... I need copper, iron, and good-quality wood," he muttered, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Let's make the one thing every kid who opened up their RC car was fascinated by... a motor."
He smiled to himself like a boy who'd just found a secret candy stash.
---
First Stop: Metal Trader's Lane
The part of the city near the blacksmith guild was noisy and filled with the clang of hammer on steel, the hiss of cooling iron, and the strong scent of charcoal smoke. There, nestled between two bulky smithing workshops, was a narrow but well-kept shop with a wooden sign that read:
"Rathi & Sons -- Refined Metals & Crafting Goods"
Aman pushed the creaky door open, a small brass bell above the entrance jingling softly.
Inside, trays of ore samples lined the walls--iron, tin, nickel, even rare bits of silver. The copper hung neatly in loops behind the counter, catching the sunlight and shimmering with promise.
"Welcome," said an elderly man with soot on his sleeves. "Looking for something specific, lad?"
"Refined copper, and about two ingots of soft iron," Aman replied confidently, examining the goods with a practiced eye.
The man raised an eyebrow, clearly used to craftsmen but not ones who knew exactly what they needed or who inspected iron by tapping it gently and sniffing the faint metallic tang.
"You an inventor or something?"
"You could say that," Aman smirked.
After some negotiation, he walked out with a bundle of copper wire wrapped in oiled cloth and two hand-sized iron ingots packed in straw.
---
Second Stop: Timber Alley
The smell of fresh sawdust led Aman to a different part of town--the timber merchant's district.
Unlike the roaring forge district, this area was calm, with long wooden planks stacked against open workshops and carpenters arguing gently over woodgrain and knots. Birds chirped overhead. It felt almost... peaceful.
Aman stopped at a shop labeled "Vanya Woods & Carpentry" with a beautifully carved signboard.
A stout woman with calloused hands greeted him. "You lookin' for furniture wood or structural?"
"Neither. I need dry, light wood with low density. Preferably fine-grained, easy to carve. Something that won't crack under heat or pressure."
She stared at him like he'd spoken in riddles. "You making a toy?"
"Sort of. A very ambitious toy."
She eventually handed him a few polished rods of sandalwood and neem--light, sturdy, and pleasantly aromatic.
"These should work. Careful though--don't go using them for cooking, or your stew will smell like perfume."
Aman laughed, thanked her, paid in full, and soon had his materials bundled neatly in a cloth sling over his shoulder.
---
Back at the Inn
By the time Aman returned to the inn, the sun had begun dipping behind the terracotta rooftops. The streets were glowing orange, and the city seemed to slow down around him.
He climbed up the creaky staircase to his room, shut the door behind him, then turned the latch with a satisfying click.
He set the bag on the table, untied the cloth, and carefully laid out his treasures--copper, iron, and wood.
Then, eyes bright with childlike excitement, he rolled up his sleeves.
"Let's make magic... the mechanical kind."
His fingers trembled slightly--not from fear, but from joy. It wasn't just nostalgia. It wasn't even just invention.
It was rebellion.
A defiant spark of his past life burning bright in a world that had no idea what was coming.
---
Aman sat down at the small desk in his room, his mind buzzing with the complex details of the task at hand. The materials were now before him, but his thoughts were racing. He had done this countless times in his past life--built machines, solved technical puzzles, created gadgets--but this wasn't just a standard project. He was working in a world where the laws of physics were governed by cultivation, and electricity as he knew it didn't exist.
"Right. I need to approach this carefully," he murmured to himself, rubbing his chin. "I can't rely on the same techniques I used before. This is cultivation. I'll need a formation."
---
He took a deep breath, remembering his past life and the countless times he'd built gadgets and tinkered with RC cars. But this time, it would be different. He needed to build something that would work in this mystical world--a device that could function without the luxury of modern-day components.
"Brushes are out," he thought, mentally dismissing the weak DC motors from his past as he recalled their issues. "They burn out too quickly anyway. Not to mention, the magnets here are weak... regular magnets won't be able to handle the torque required for a useful motor."
That's when it hit him: electromagnets.
In his past life, the thought of using magnets to create motion wasn't anything new, but here, in this mystical world of cultivation, he could adapt his knowledge into something more practical. He could build the magnetic fields. The idea of electromagnets sounded perfect--something more stable, customizable, and capable of holding up against the tests of time.
---
Aman leaned forward, pulling out a small piece of parchment. His hands moved as if they knew exactly what to do, scribbling out rough sketches for the motor. He quickly drew out the basic schematic:
1. The Electromagnets: Made of iron, he'd wind the copper wire into coils to create strong enough fields to replace the weak natural magnets. He could arrange them in the rotor to spin the shaft.
2. The Formation: A formation to replace brushes. This was crucial. Instead of using mechanical brushes to supply current, he would set up a formation--a simple, low-voltage one--to channel the energy from the environment and flow through the motor's windings. It would have to be clean, direct, and stable. Too much fluctuation and the motor would burn out. He could modify it as necessary once the setup was complete.
3. Direct Current Flow: He knew how to create a consistent, unidirectional flow of current. In his mind, he pictured the formation at work--something simple but precise, almost like a conductor's baton guiding energy through the copper coils.
4. Rotor and Stator Design: The rotor would have the iron coils wound tightly, and the stator, which was the stationary part of the motor, would house the electromagnets. The key here was the alignment. The rotor needed to spin smoothly between the stator coils, and that meant precise fitting.
---
End of chapter 19