Hours After Yuvraj Hamsa Left for the Mines
The mining settlement was alive with movement.
Word had already reached the capital, and relief had been dispatched without delay. Now it arrived in waves—caravans carrying extra supplies, replacement workers, temple agents, and support personnel. Orders were being relayed, goods unloaded, and injured tended to. What had once been controlled urgency had now turned into organized intensity.
The Royal Family remained inside the largest structure in the settlement—the one Hamsa had entered earlier.
It stood apart from everything else.
Custom-built on his orders, its tall, thick walls and semi-open roof gave it the appearance of a large barn from another world. Compared to the rest of the settlement—simple, efficient, practical—it was striking. Unfamiliar. Intentional.
"What is this?" Mahadevi Bhadra asked, her gaze fixed on a tall brick structure at the center.
She directed the question to Padmavathi, who stood beside her. A short distance away, the Raja and Rajkumar Garuda observed the settlement through the open side.
"I am not entirely certain, Mahadevi," Padmavathi replied, studying it carefully. "But… from what I've seen over the past few days… I believe it is some kind of furnace."
"This… is a furnace?" Bhadra repeated, clearly unconvinced.
Before Padmavathi could respond further—a disturbance rose from outside.
Voices. Movement. A shift in attention.
They stepped out. For a moment, there was nothing unusual.
Then they noticed—everyone was looking up.
They followed.
Hamsa was in the air.
Not standing. Not falling.
Floating.
Around him were several men—limp, injured, barely conscious—held in place by something unseen. Carefully, almost precisely, he lowered them to the ground where others rushed forward to receive them.
And then—he rose again.
Back toward the mines.
Again and again.
Each time returning with more.
By the time it ended, over fifty men had been brought in—each in need of immediate medical attention.
Mahadevi exhaled slowly, bringing a hand to her temple.
"What am I to do with him…"
There was no real frustration in her voice. Just something tired.
A moment later, Hamsa descended for the final time.
He landed lightly. And began to talk with one of the Temple Agents.
"These are the ones most affected by mana poisoning," he said, already turning away from them. "I've done what I can. Take it from here."
The temple agent before him bowed slightly and moved without delay, joining the others as they began treatment.
Hamsa didn't linger.
Mana Poisoning
All living beings possess what is known as a Mana Well—a reservoir within the body where mana is stored and utilized.
How that reserve is filled, however, varies.
At the most basic level, everyone generates a small amount of mana naturally. It is a slow, steady process—like a lake being fed by streams over time.
Beyond that, there is absorption.
Mana can be drawn in from external sources—other beings, objects, or the environment itself. Most prefer to absorb ambient natural mana, as it is the least taxing to process.
Because—mana cannot be used the moment it enters the body.
It must first undergo a form of internal refinement.
Only after this process is complete does it become stable enough to be stored in the Mana Well.
Ambient mana requires minimal refinement.
Mana taken from other beings or sources, however, carries foreign characteristics—making it far more difficult and time-consuming to refine.
This is also why most individuals cannot gather and use mana simultaneously.
The system simply does not allow both processes at once.
—Except in rare cases.
Hamsa and beings like Adi.
They are exceptions.
Mana Poisoning occurs when this system is overwhelmed.
If the body absorbs more external mana than it can refine, the excess begins to accumulate in an unstable state.
This overload disrupts the natural balance of the Mana Well and the body itself.
The results—
range from internal damage to complete system failure.
There are several ways this can happen:
—When someone forcefully pushes mana into another's body
—When an individual is exposed to extremely dense mana environments
—When one attempts absorption without sufficient training or control
Places like the Great Dead Zones are prime examples—regions where ambient mana is so dense that unprepared individuals can suffer poisoning simply by being present.
Hamsa made his way back toward the building he had been in hours earlier.
Dust clung to him—across his clothes, his hands, even in his hair. Here and there, small injuries marked his body. Shallow cuts, torn skin, the kind that would slow most men down.
On him—they didn't last.
Even as he walked, the wounds were already closing. Flesh knitting back together within minutes, leaving behind little more than faint traces.
It wasn't deliberate.
Just a byproduct.
The sheer, overwhelming amount of mana his body held gave him a naturally accelerated rate of cellular regeneration—far beyond what normal biology was capable of.
To him, it was routine.
To anyone who noticed—it wasn't.
The Raja had questions.
About the flying.About how Hamsa healed so unnaturally fast.
But before he could speak, the Mahadevi said something—quiet, firm—and that was enough for him to hold back.
For now.
----
They stood before the structure.
It was large—around ten meters tall—built from thick brick. It started as a straight cylinder at the base, but as it rose, it narrowed into an inverted cone with an open top.
Three openings were built into it.
One higher up, just below where the shape changed. A pipe ran through it—it looked continuous from the outside, but inside it wasn't.
Below it were two larger openings, both on one side. Wider. Reinforced. Clearly meant for heavier use.
To everyone present, it looked strange.
But to someone who knew—it was obvious.
A furnace. A very rough, early blast furnace.
Hamsa used his mana to clean himself—first water, washing off the dust, then a rush of wind to dry himself.
Ahem.
He cleared his throat. After he was done cleaning himself.
"Welcome, everyone. I don't believe I need to introduce myself. And as for what stands behind me—this is a furnace."
Padmavathi straightened slightly, clearly pleased.The two sovereigns looked confused.Garuda simply stared.The smiths—their eyes burned with interest.
No one's going to say anything…?
Hamsa exhaled lightly and continued.
"Allow me to explain."
He raised his hand, pointing toward the top.
"Iron ore is fed in from above. Along with limestone, and charcoal—or coke. Coke is something I've developed by heating coal in an air-tight chamber."
His hand moved downward as he spoke.
"The burning fuel generates enough heat to melt the iron. The limestone binds with impurities and separates them out."
He pointed lower.
"What you get is molten iron at the bottom… and waste—slag—floating above it."
His finger shifted to the middle opening.
"The slag is removed through here."
Then to the lowest one.
"And the molten iron is collected from here."
He turned back to them.
Silence.
Then—Padmavathi raised her hand.
"How do you maintain the heat?" she asked. "This would require a constant, large supply. And… what do we even build this out of?"
That's my student, Hamsa noted to himself.
"That," he said, pointing to the upper pipe, "is what this is for. Air is forced in continuously."
Then, with a small motion of his hand, he lifted a heavy cloth covering something beside the furnace.
Under it—a mechanism.
"This," Hamsa said, "is a water-powered air blaster."
And he began explaining how it worked and stopped turning back to everyone.
"What kind of steel can we expect from this?" Mahasenapati Krishna was the first to speak.
Hamsa answered without hesitation.
"The kind that comes out of this… isn't very useful on its own."
A brief pause.
"So this is for producing iron at scale—for further processing?" Rajkumar Garuda asked.
"Yes," Hamsa nodded. "That would be correct."
That only made things more confusing.
Padmavathi spoke next, voicing what the smiths were already thinking.
"But Yuvraj… what comes after that? What we did before required precise ratios, constant control, cleaner crucibles… all of it carefully maintained." She glanced at the furnace. "At this scale… how do we manage that?"
The smiths nodded in agreement.
"I assume," the Raja said, "that you have already considered this."
"I have," Hamsa replied. "It took some effort… but I found a way."
He looked at them all.
"When we traditionally make steel, we control the amount of charcoal or coal used to get the desired result. That is correct?"
"Yes," came the response—from Padmavathi, the smiths, and even Krishna.
Hamsa continued.
"So what happens… if instead of getting it perfect during creation—we fix it after?"
Silence.
No one followed.
This is going to be painful without them knowing what atoms are…
He exhaled quietly and simplified.
"When we make steel, the amount of charcoal/coal—or more precisely, material like it—inside the metal determines its properties. More of it makes the metal harder, but less flexible and more brittle. Less of it makes it softer, but tougher and more flexible."
He paused, making sure they were following.
"What I developed… is a way to remove that excess afterward. And it isn't overly complex," Hamsa finished.
He snapped his fingers.
A stone wall rose from the ground, smooth and flat, and upon it—a diagram formed.
Lines. Angles. Channels.
None of it made sense to those present.
Sorry, Bessemer… I'm taking this one in my name. Hamsa thought.
Then he began.
"This," he said, gesturing to the diagram, "is how we refine it further."
What Hamsa was showing them was the Bessemer Process and the vessel used for it.
On paper, it was simple.
A pear-shaped crucible, built using materials capable of handling extremely high temperatures. It had an open top, an outlet along the lower side to pour out the final product, and most importantly—small openings at the base through which compressed air would be forced in.
The entire structure would be mounted on a rotating pedestal, allowing it to tilt along its axis when needed.
The process itself was just as straightforward in concept.
First, scrap metal would be loaded into the vessel. Then molten iron from the blast furnace would be poured in. The mixture would be allowed to heat further, and during this stage, a flux—most commonly limestone—would be added.
The limestone would bind with impurities present in the metal, separating them out as slag.
At the same time, compressed air forced in from the bottom would react with the excess carbon in the molten iron, effectively burning it away.
By controlling this stage properly—what remained at the end was steel configured for the use required.
Hamsa finished speaking, and the earthen wall sank back into the ground.
Silence followed.
The two sovereigns stood still, eyes wide—not from confusion, but from understanding. Their minds moved quickly, tracing the possibilities, the scale, the impact this could bring.
And yet—
above all of that—
a single thought stood firm.
They knew their son.
He had not just thought this through—he had gone further.
Much further.
Still, even knowing that, they could not ignore what stood before them.
This was not just innovation, it was change.
The kind that marked the beginning of something new.
They were witnessing the laying of the first stone of an era that would not resemble anything before it.
And the one laying that stone—was their firstborn.
The future ruler of their lands.
Hamsa, on the other hand, had already moved on.
He allowed the smiths and Padmavathi to gather around the structure. With a small use of mana, he split sections open, exposing the interior so they could study it properly—paths, chambers, flow, everything laid bare for them to understand.
He left them to it.
Instead, he turned to Mahasenapati Krishna.
"I believe I don't need to explain the implications of this," Hamsa said, standing a few steps away. Ranapala stood just behind him.
"You do not, Yuvraj," Krishna replied. "What interests me more… is what you intend to do with it."
Hamsa gave a slight nod.
"Before that," he said, turning slightly so both men were within his view, "a simple question. You may answer as well."
A brief pause.
"What does war come down to?"
Both men fell silent, thinking.
Krishna spoke first.
His answer leaned toward command—training, leadership, the capability of generals, how well an army could be directed in battle.
Ranapala followed.
His answer was broader—logistics, morale and discipline. The ability to maintain supply lines and structure, even with simpler techniques, and the importance of uniform training across forces.
"It good to see you have something in that head of yours." Hamsa spoke to Ranapala.
"Well… you are both correct," Hamsa said, his tone even. "But if I had to choose, I would lean toward Ranapala's answer."
He paused briefly.
"In the end, it does not matter if your soldiers are individually superior, or if your general is unmatched in brilliance. If you can consistently field disciplined, well-trained armies—even under less capable leadership—you will win the war regardless."
Krishna stepped forward slightly. "But at the cost of lives—"
"Mahasenapati," Hamsa cut in, his voice calm but firm, "I need not remind you that, in the larger scheme of things, the life of a single soldier holds less weight than the prosperity of the state."
There was no emotion in his words.
"I am not suggesting we throw men away without thought," he continued. "They must be treated with dignity. With respect. As any person deserves."
A brief pause.
"But at the end of the day,... our lives are expendable… if it ensures victory."
Silence settled for a moment before Hamsa spoke again.
"And to that end," he said, "I intend to overhaul the army—completely. From recruitment, to pay, to training and equipment. Everything."
His tone was steady, almost matter-of-fact.
"I will have a draft prepared before I leave. Implementation will begin once our economy and industrial base can support it."
"As a starting point, I plan to introduce it in the north within the next year. We refine it there—then expand across the kingdom."
Krishna studied him for a moment before asking—
"Why?"
Hamsa glanced at him.
"Why?" he repeated, almost lightly. "Well it hard for people to accept change, everyone needs a hand to guide them."