Chapter 7: Spark of Innovation

Aegis stood motionless, her silver frame gleaming faintly in the attic light. Alaric's fingers trembled slightly as he inserted the last mana-threaded valve ring into the side panel.

The machine sat in front of him, squat and metallic, no larger than a wooden barrel. Its drum was light but reinforced with enchanted brass. A thin mana circuit traced a path across the housing like a vein—faintly glowing, humming with latent energy.

The Mana Washer was complete.

[Crafting Complete]

[Item Created: Mana Washer (Prototype-001)]

[Complexity Rating: High]

[Crafting Bonus Triggered – Due to innovation and mana compatibility]

[Level Up]

[Level Up]

[Level Up]

[Level Up]

[Level Up]

[Identity: Alaric Valtair (Age: 10)]

[Race: Human]

[Class: None]

[Level: 2 → 7]

[Mana: 24 → 50]

[Strength: 6 → 7]

[Intelligence: 24 → 32]

[Dexterity: 9 → 11]

[Constitution: 6 → 8]

[Luck: 3 → 4]

That's five levels at once… just from crafting a household device?

Alaric stared at the interface, stunned. His breathing slowed.

This isn't just about killing monsters or surviving dungeons. I can grow stronger by building things. Exponentially, at that.

He looked down at the washer.

If that's true… then engineering itself is a path to power.

The hatch on the machine's front gleamed invitingly. A small, blue rune lit up above it—a sign the enchantment circuit was stable.

"Aegis," he said, wiping sweat from his brow. "Diagnostic check. Is the washer stable?"

"Yes, Master Alaric." Her voice was calm and mechanical, but with a faint warmth to it. "Mana core output is within optimal range. Rotational core responds smoothly. Water barrier glyph is functional. Drain sequence is primed."

He grinned. "Then it's time to show the family what a bit of invention can do."

The scent of stew filled the air as Alaric carefully descended from the attic, his robe soot-stained and his hands smudged with grease. The Mana Washer levitated behind him, guided by Aegis with a gentle pulse of mana.

In the common room, Cedric was seated by the hearth, reading an old ledger with a furrowed brow. Seraphina stitched quietly beside him, and little Liora was humming to herself, rearranging dolls on the rug.

They all looked up as the strange metal object floated into the room.

Cedric raised a brow. "...What on Aether is that?"

"Family," Alaric said, placing the machine down with a small dramatic flourish, "I present to you: the Mana Washer. A device that cleans clothes without the need for scrubbing, heating water, or long hours under the sun."

Seraphina blinked. "That small thing?"

Liora peeked behind it, eyes wide. "It's like a metal box! What does it eat?"

"It doesn't eat, Liora," Alaric chuckled. "It runs on mana."

Cedric leaned forward, cautious. "This isn't some leftover contraption from the old empire, is it?"

Alaric shook his head. "No. I built it. From scratch. With dungeon materials and blueprints I designed myself."

There was a long silence. Seraphina's fingers trembled just slightly.

"You… built this?" she said softly.

He nodded. "It's only the first. But if it works, we can produce more. Sell them. Build something sustainable."

Cedric stood up slowly. "Show me."

The backyard of the manor had seen better days, but it still had an old water pump and a line for hanging clothes. Aegis set the washer down carefully.

"Put in a few dirty garments," Alaric instructed. "We'll test a short cycle."

Seraphina handed over a bundle of soiled tunics and linens. Alaric loaded them in, then pressed a sequence of glowing runes on the side.

WHIRRRRRRR—

The washer spun to life. Mana lines glowed. Water conjured itself into the chamber through the pump-connected intake. A gentle hum resonated from within the machine as the items began rotating rapidly.

Liora clapped her hands. "It's spinning! It's spinning!"

Even Cedric had to take a step back. "By the Flame…"

"It has three modes," Alaric said. "Wash, rinse, and dry. All powered by a small mana rotation core and enchanted thread for the heating element."

Seraphina stared, her voice barely a whisper. "You made this? At ten years old?"

"More like twenty-seven, technically," Alaric muttered.

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

Aegis stepped forward. "Cycle complete."

The hatch popped open, releasing a faint puff of steam.

Seraphina pulled out a tunic—clean, warm, and dry.

She turned to Cedric, eyes wide with disbelief. "It's… perfectly clean. No soap. No scrubbing. No hanging."

Liora reached in, holding up a fluffy pair of socks. "It's warm! Mama, it's warm!"

Cedric was quiet for a long moment.

Then, slowly, he let out a deep breath. "Alaric."

"Yes?"

"This changes everything."

They returned to the sitting room as the sun began to dip behind the hills. The glow of mana lamps flickered gently, casting shadows against the walls.

"I still can't believe it…" Seraphina murmured, cradling one of the washed linens like it was a miracle.

"It's just the beginning," Alaric said. "There's more I can build. But this is the first product I want to introduce to the people."

Cedric leaned forward, fingers steepled. "You've done something remarkable. But this will draw attention. Nobles. Guilds. Merchants."

"And the Church," Seraphina added. Her tone was more serious now.

"I'm prepared for that," Alaric said. "Eventually. But right now, we need a way to produce these in numbers. A workshop. Funding. And a way to distribute without being crushed by larger houses."

Cedric nodded. "That'll take coin. Influence. And protection."

"I'll handle it," Alaric said confidently. "I'll start small. Local. One machine at a time."

Seraphina looked up at him with pride in her eyes. "Your grandfather would've wept to see this. The Valtair blood runs true."

Liora hugged his leg. "Big brother, are you going to make a toy next?"

He chuckled. "Maybe. But first, laundry revolution."

Later that evening, Alaric sat again in the attic. Aegis stood behind him silently, her sensors dimmed.

He was staring at the interface.

[Level: 7]

[Mana: 50]

[Intelligence: 32]

I leveled up five times… just from one machine.

He opened the crafting log.

[Crafted Item: Mana Washer (Prototype)]

Complexity: High

Mana Conductivity: Efficient

Application: Domestic, Civil

Influence Potential: Market-Changing

So that's the key. I don't have to fight monsters to grow stronger. I just have to push boundaries—create things no one else dares to.

The stars glittered beyond the attic window.

A kingdom not built on blades… but on ideas.

He turned back to Aegis. "We start tomorrow."

"Yes, Master Alaric."

The soft hum of the prototype still echoed faintly in the attic, like the ghost of a spinning drum. Alaric sat cross-legged on the floor, his arms resting on his knees, while Aegis stood nearby like a silent sentinel.

Downstairs, he could hear his mother folding fresh linens, and his father's voice muttering about "barrels of soap becoming obsolete."

They're proud. But we're not done yet. The washer works… now what?

The joy of success had faded into a different feeling—urgency. For the Mana Washer to change their lives, someone needed to buy it.

"We need a market," he said aloud. "We need coin. And reach."

Aegis tilted her head. "Recommendation: Begin distribution plan. Current inventory: One unit."

"Too few." Alaric stood and brushed the dust from his tunic. "We need more samples before we even think of showing it to a merchant."

He walked to the crafting table—still marked with arcane etchings and soot from his last creation—and placed his palm flat against it.

[Crafting Terminal Activated]

Blue lines pulsed across the surface. The air shimmered faintly.

"I have leftover rivets. Enough brass. Mana-threaded cloth…" he checked a mental list. "We can build five more."

Aegis didn't move. "Estimated time to completion: Six hours."

"Good," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Let's begin."

One by one, the machines came to life.

By the time the fifth unit clicked into place, Alaric was pale, his breathing slow and shallow. His vision blurred—but this time, he stopped himself before overexerting again.

He collapsed onto a nearby stool, clutching a damp towel to his forehead.

[Mana: 50 → 6]

A close call… but worth it.

Before him stood six prototypes—each one slightly improved. The drum spun quieter. The water intake seals were tighter. The heating glyphs had better efficiency.

A line of machines. Like soldiers waiting for command.

Aegis stood behind him, her tone calm. "Mass production achieved. Ready for next directive."

Alaric grinned. "Next step: selling."

Later that night, dinner passed quietly, though the table was fuller than it had been in years—warm food, fresh-baked root pie, clean linens, and even laughter. The washer had already begun to ease Seraphina's daily burdens. Liora kept humming joyfully between bites, while Cedric had a rare glimmer of peace in his eyes.

But despite the warmth around the hearth, a question sat heavy between the family like a silent guest.

Who would buy such a thing?

"I still can't believe it," Seraphina finally said, folding a napkin in her lap. "Laundry… done in half an hour. No bruised knuckles. No frostbitten mornings. No ruined water buckets."

"It feels like a dream," Cedric agreed. "But dreams don't feed a family."

Alaric leaned forward. "We have six units. That's enough to show someone."

"Show who?" Seraphina asked gently. "This invention—it's brilliant. But people fear brilliance. Nobles don't like what they can't control. Merchants fear losses. And the church will—"

"I'm not giving it to a noble," Alaric said firmly. "And the church doesn't need to know yet."

"Then who do you trust with it?" she asked, watching him.

Alaric hesitated.

He hadn't thought that far ahead.

It was Cedric who answered instead. He placed his utensils down, sat straighter, and glanced at his son.

"There's someone we can try."

Alaric blinked. "You have someone in mind?"

"A boy," Cedric said. "Darin Kestel. He runs a stall at the edge of the village market."

Seraphina's brows lifted slightly. "That name… Kestel?"

"The family used to own a little farmland near the river bend," Cedric explained. "The father served as a pikeman during the Border Wars. Died defending Veltrane's southern ridge. The mother struggled to keep the house. Their eldest son—Darin—started scavenging, fixing trinkets, reselling things on market days. Quiet lad. Never begs. Never cheats."

Alaric frowned. "A child merchant?"

"He's no child," Cedric said with a chuckle. "He's maybe fourteen now. Looks younger, acts older. He watches people—tracks what sells, what doesn't. I've seen him recommend stock ideas to grown merchants. Some take his advice, and it earns them coin. Others laugh him off and lose money a week later."

Seraphina's voice softened. "You've been keeping an eye on him?"

Cedric gave a slow nod. "When I still visited the markets, I made it a habit to observe who was rising and falling. Nobles play chess with gold pieces, but the real game begins on the cobbles."

"And Darin?" Alaric asked. "What's he playing?"

Cedric smiled faintly. "A hawk with no wings."

Seraphina folded her hands together. "What a tragic image."

"He's smart," Cedric went on. "But he has no backing. No guild. No coin to invest, no warehouse to stock. Just instinct, a sharp mind, and a rusted cart."

Alaric nodded slowly. "Then he's exactly what we need."

Seraphina tilted her head. "Because he's poor?"

"Because he has nothing to lose," Alaric replied. "And he might see the value of this… before anyone else does. If I show this to a noble house, they'll try to seize it. If I show it to a wealthy merchant, they'll want ownership. But someone like Darin…"

"He might understand," Cedric finished.

Liora, who had been listening with wide eyes, suddenly piped up. "So we're giving him one of the magic drum things?"

Cedric chuckled. "We're lending him one. A test run. No contracts yet."

"We watch how he handles it," Alaric added. "If he tries to sell it right away, or if he shows it to the wrong people, we walk away."

Seraphina nodded. "And if he proves honest?"

"Then," Alaric said, standing from his chair, "we make him our merchant."

Cedric reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small sealed envelope. He handed it to Alaric. "Give him this. It's not a contract—just an offer. Terms of demonstration. One prototype. Three weeks. No copies. No sales without approval. If he accepts, we proceed."

Alaric tucked it into his travel pouch. "Understood."

"You'll need to be careful," Seraphina warned. "The church sends Inquisitors through the villages sometimes. Especially now, with all the unrest."

"I won't," he assured her. "I'll be careful. I'll bring Aegis with me. Just as escort."

Liora stood and hugged his arm tightly. "Bring me something sweet from the market?"

Alaric smiled, resting a hand on her head. "If Darin agrees, I'll bring you two."

Cedric watched his son as he walked toward the attic stairs. For a brief moment, the candlelight caught his expression—a strange mix of youth and determination.

He's not the boy who fell ill and weak in the old garden. Not anymore.

"You're becoming more like her," Cedric whispered.

Seraphina looked at him. "Who?"

He didn't answer.