The lab had a faint scent of ozone, charred parchment, and singed hair. Sharath was the source of that last one. He coughed, shooing away the smoke as the latest experiment fizzled out in a sad, anticlimactic fashion.
The burned-out hulk of what once was a "magic motor tricycle" now twisted on the stone ground. Its proud wheels now bent like tipsy dancers, the rune-engraved motor cracked and still smoking.
"Too much fire rune input," he grumbled, taking notes on the side. "And wind compression superimposed… yeah, that was inviting trouble.
🐧NeuroBoop's voice in his mind reeked of sarcasm. "Asking for trouble? You essentially pushed a dragon into a teapot and expected it not to blow up. Well done, Genius Lord."
Sharath gave a glare to nothing. "I will use a dual-core rune matrix to stabilize the output next time."
"Next time, I'll make popcorn. It's less expensive amusement than paying a bard.
He exhaled, nudging the destroyed tricycle out of the way. His gaze drifted towards the balloon prototype that deflated in the corner. The material drooped like a sheepish pancake. He had tried it out earlier—one magic puff of heat, and the cloth had puckered like an overcooked omelet.
"Cheaper material. Not very durable," Sharath thought to himself. Then his eyes fell upon the stacked shelf full of barrels of preserved slime goo. His lips curled up into a slow smile.
"Oh, I see it now."
The following ten days were spent in pandemonium, gluey disarray, and more explosions than Sharath wanted to remember. Slime goo was adhesive, rubbery, and—in a great deal of trial and error—remarkably fireproof when properly processed. He sewed together sheets of slime-coated fabric, stacking them with runes for durability and air retention.
The first one dissolved into a foul puddle that dripped onto his head like jelly. The second one swelled halfway before exploding with a sound that shook the windows. By the fourth try, he had to shoo Thermo the cat out of the workshop when it attempted to nap within the balloon basket.
🐧NeuroBoop was relentless. "Congratulations, you've finally invented the world's largest slime condom. Truly a contribution to history."
"Shut it," Sharath growled, tightening the final rune seals.
And then—miraculously—it worked. The slime balloon swelled upward gracefully, buoyant, glowing faintly green as it reflected the runes etched across its surface. The flame chamber below hummed steadily, feeding warm air into the sphere without burning through it.
Sharath climbed up into the basket, thudding heart. He yanked on the lever—and the balloon surged up, rising smoothly, taking him higher into the air.
Sharath wasn't surrounded by ledgers, corpses, or wolf issues for the first time in months. He was soaring, weightless, seeing Unnatirajya spread out below him like a living map.
"Ha!" He punched the air. "It works!"
*"Oh good," 🐧NeuroBoop drawled. "Now you can die in style when it crashes."
When he floated towards the Darsha estate, the villagers had already spotted the huge green sphere floating over the horizon.
Pandemonium broke out immediately. Guards swarmed onto the walls, bows at the ready. Some villagers cried out about a monster attack, but others took up pitchforks and pails of water. An armored squad of knights stood at the gate, ready to shoot at the "flying abomination."
"Lower your guns!" a man yelled. "Defend the estate!"
Sharath frantically waved his arms inside the balloon basket. "Stop! Stop firing! It's me!"
Naturally, from the ground, he was a very small man stuck in a gooey bubble. Which wasn't helping in a big way.
At last, when the balloon came down into the courtyard, the reality dawned. Out stepped Sharath, proudly smiling, still smudged with soot on his cheek.
The mayhem stalled. Silence descended. Everyone gazed.
Then Lady Ishvari appeared, cradling one of the twins in her arms, Lord Varundar Darsha bringing up the rear with the other. The twins stared at the floating device wide-eyed, while their parents just came to a dead halt.
"Sharath," Lady Ishvari said, talking calmly but with a warning undercurrent. "Please inform me this great blob of slime isn't going to blow up."
Sharath coughed into his fist. "It's perfectly safe. Reinforced with runes. Fire-resistant. See? No explosions this time."
🐧NeuroBoop: "Yet."
The twins oohed and aahed, stretching for the balloon, obviously spellbound. Even Lady Ishvari couldn't deny, unwillingly, that it was… impressive.
Lord Varundar shook his head in laughter. "Son, you are either going to bring us forward or scare us all to early graves."
And then Lord Basanna, Sharath's grandfather, his nose quivering like a merchant sniffing out gold. He made a slow circuit of the balloon, eyes shining.
"Ah, ah. What do we have here? A carriage that flies? An airship? A moving billboards? How much would the nobles in the capital pay for one of these?" His grin broadened. "Sharath, if we can mass-produce this, I warrant we'll dominate the skies soon."
Sharath, though, held up a hand firmly. "No."
Basanna blinked. "No? What's that mean, no?"
"This is not to sell," Sharath replied curtly. "It's for us—our patrol guards, our defense. And perhaps…" he stroked his chin with a small grin, "a taxi company. But we won't over-saturate the markets. Not this time."
The courtyard buzzed. Even the guards shared confused glances. Refusing to sell? From a Darsha? It was effectively heresy.
Basanna's jaw fell. "You—you turn down money? My own grandson?"
Sharath grinned. "Not turn down money. I'm redirecting it. A taxi company throughout Unnatirajya, operated by balloons like this one. Controlled. Regulated. Profitable. We'll earn steady income without giving up our edge."
Lady Ishvari's lips curled into a smile. "For once, I concur. Best to keep it in the family."
The twins gurgled, as if sanctioning the scheme.
🐧NeuroBoop, of course, couldn't resist. "Congratulations, you've officially invented medieval Uber. Surge pricing when there are dragons overhead."
Sharath leaned against the basket, smug. "Unnatirajya rises—literally."
And for once, even his family could only marvel at the floating proo