The moment the two-wheeled cycle lifted from stillness into speed, something changed.
Gasps turned to awe. Disbelief melted into belief.
Not a single rune was used. No enchantment. No levitation. Yet to the people of Navaleon, it felt like sorcery.
Because magic was defined as something beyond the natural—and what Sharath had done was take nature itself and bend it through knowledge.
A noble stepped forward. "How does it work?"
Sharath handed him a chalkboard, already prepared. Diagrams of rotating gears, friction coefficients, and chain tension ratios. The man blinked.
"This is… math."
"Not just math," Sharath said. "It's truth."
The mage Veyr stepped forward, studying the machine. "You would replace arcane arts with levers and wheels?"
Sharath's eyes met his.
"No," he said calmly. "I will free them."
And for a moment, the courtyard held its breath—not because of a spell, but because a five-year-old boy had just drawn a line between the past and the future.