At first glance, the machine looked less like an invention and more like a pile of junk that had somehow been bullied into functioning together.

A dented cylindrical tank stood upright near the wall, reaching a little above Tyler’s waist. It had clearly lived several previous lives before becoming part of this contraption. The metal surface carried patches from at least three different machines, all welded together unevenly and held in place by old bolts and brackets taken from abandoned industrial scraps.

Several copper pipes ran out from its sides like tangled roots from a stubborn metal tree, twisting toward a smaller pressure chamber fitted with rotating valves that Tyler had assembled by combining parts from broken heating systems and discarded pump housings.

At the top sat a heavy hand-crank compression wheel he had stolen from an abandoned industrial pump near the outer streets of Sector 11.

Every turn of that wheel made the entire machine groan as though it resented being alive.

A pressure needle, salvaged from an old cracked gauge, trembled violently each time the chamber filled, never sitting still long enough to inspire confidence.

Near the front, Tyler had fixed a narrow nozzle made from polished alloy scrap. The mouth of the nozzle was so thin that even a little water forced through it emerged as a highly concentrated stream.

The nozzle itself had been mounted on a movable arm built from discarded lamp joints, allowing him to adjust angle, height, and pressure direction precisely.

Below it stood a crude stone platform reinforced with iron clamps where several Carbonyx ore samples had already been placed one after another during earlier tests.

The ugliest section of the machine remained the rear.

There, an old compressor body had been connected to a piston chamber built from overlapping steel cylinders. Instead of relying entirely on mechanical pressure, Tyler had engraved tiny compression arrays along the piston wall. Every downward movement multiplied the pressure within the chamber through array reinforcement.

Whenever the piston activated, faint blue lines flashed briefly across the metal.

Even the dim workshop lamps inside Old Lady Veena’s house flickered each time full pressure built up.

The entire thing looked unstable.

Water dripped steadily from several badly sealed joints.

Steam hissed from one loose valve that refused to stay tight no matter how often Tyler adjusted it.

One side of the machine looked permanently one bad decision away from exploding.

Old Lady Veena stood nearby with her arms folded, staring at the machine with narrowed eyes.

"You built this from my scrap pile?" she asked, disbelief clear in her voice.

Tyler crouched near the lower chamber, tightening one bolt with a wrench without even looking up.

"Only half your scrap pile," he answered calmly.

"That pressure tank was part of my heater," Veena protested immediately.

"You were not using it."

"I was saving it."

Tyler gave the bolt one final twist and finally looked at her.

"For what exactly?"

Veena opened her mouth confidently.

Then paused.

Then slowly closed it again.

Tyler smirked faintly and returned to the machine.

He gave the hand-crank another full turn.

The chamber answered with a deep metallic thud.

Pressure rose immediately.

The gauge needle climbed and trembled dangerously close to the red zone.

Then Tyler pulled the release lever.

A violent hiss burst from the front nozzle.

A thin stream of compressed water shot forward hard enough to strike the Carbonyx ore like a cutting blade.

The stone platform vibrated.

Tiny pale sparks instantly flickered across the purple veins embedded inside the black ore.

Veena leaned forward without realizing it.

The machine gave another strained hiss.

Tyler adjusted the nozzle slightly lower.

Then he activated it again.

This time the water stream emerged even thinner and sharper.

The ore reacted more clearly.

Purple lines beneath the surface brightened faintly.

A pulse moved through them like light passing under dark glass.

Tyler’s eyes sharpened.

"Now that," he murmured, "is definitely not normal mineral behavior."

The machine rattled harder as internal pressure dropped.

Then one loose pipe burst sideways.

Water sprayed across the floor in a wide arc, soaking Veena’s shoes instantly.

She slapped Tyler’s shoulder in irritation.

"Your machine is leaking everywhere!" 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

Tyler did not even turn.

"We can fix leaks after proving the theory."

He reset the chamber again.

This time he angled the nozzle more precisely and tightened the pressure valve further.

The piston activated.

Blue array lines flashed.

Then compressed water struck the ore once more.

Tiny threads of pale electricity appeared again.

Still faint.

But unmistakably real.

Tyler increased pressure gradually.

The next burst hit harder.

Another spark appeared.

This one lasted longer.

Both Tyler and Veena leaned closer.

The purple veins inside the Carbonyx were behaving differently than before.

Not under heat.

Not under direct electric current.

But under force generated by compressed flowing water.

Tyler’s expression slowly changed as the conclusion formed fully in his mind.

"Hydro-electric interaction," he said quietly.

Veena blinked.

Tyler lifted the ore carefully using insulated gloves and placed it closer under the lamp.

The veins still carried faint residual brightness.

"The underwater pressure in Sector 2 is not simply for industrial convenience," he said while studying the stone. "The pressure itself is part of the refining process."

He turned the ore slowly in his hand.

"It is not exactly extracting electricity directly. The pressure forces the ore into an activated state, something closer to an energy-storage medium. In fantasy terms, this behaves more like a spirit stone or magic crystal than ordinary fuel."

Veena looked from the ore to the machine and back again.

"So that underwater plant exists because the sea itself helps refine it?"

Tyler nodded.

"That is exactly why Sector 2 was built underwater. High pressure allows them to activate Carbonyx efficiently."

He tapped lightly against the stone.

"With proper controlled pressure, this ore becomes something like a battery with enormous stored output."

Veena frowned slightly.

"So simple?"

Tyler finally looked at her fully.

"There is nothing simple about this."

He pointed toward the leaking machine.

"I am barely forcing out weak sparks using unstable scrap and hand-built compression. The Capital uses deep underwater industrial systems for a reason. Without that level of controlled pressure, large-scale electricity production would never work."

He placed the ore back on the platform.

"And even now, this is only partial activation. True refinement still needs far more precision."

Veena listened quietly.

Tyler continued, his tone more serious now.

"This ore should not be underestimated. Even one properly refined piece could power Sector 11 for months."

Veena’s brows rose.

Tyler nodded slowly.

"The energy density is absurd. A small amount contains output beyond what ordinary batteries here can dream of storing."

Old Lady Veena gave a dry snort.

"And yet with all that power, they still shut off our electricity half the day."

She reached into her pocket, took out her old smoking pipe, and lit it slowly.

A moment later she exhaled smoke toward the leaking machine.

"Well," she said after a pause, "congratulations on your discovery."

Tyler leaned back against the workbench, watching water continue dripping from one cracked joint.

"Congratulations feel meaningless when the discovery changes nothing immediately."

Veena took another drag before answering.

"It changes more than you think."

Tyler looked at her.

She lowered the pipe and spoke more quietly.

"The refining method itself has value. If it reaches the right hands, it could matter."

Tyler narrowed his eyes.

"You already have someone in mind?"

Veena gave him a long look before answering.

"Yes."

She paused briefly.

"A group called Embers."

Then she added with clear weight,

"The rebels."

"So you are part of the rebels?" Tyler asked.

He already knew who Embers were, at least in name. He had even met one of them before—Maximus by the river, carrying a rifle marked with that same word and speaking like someone who had already accepted war as part of daily life.

Old Lady Veena shook her head slowly.

"I am not part of them," she said, leaning back in her chair. "But I traveled almost everywhere in Libria when I was still reporting. Sectors, border zones, hidden routes, places the Capital preferred people never mention. One of those journeys took me to one of their hideouts."

A faint smile appeared on her face, softer than usual.

"That is also where I met my husband."

Her eyes drifted slightly, and Tyler immediately recognized the dangerous look of someone about to disappear into a long emotional memory.

But before she could begin, Tyler raised a hand.

"Oh, wait, wait. No need for the full flashback. I already understand the important part, so let us save your dramatic history for another day."

Veena blinked, then gave him an offended look.

"You young people have no respect for proper storytelling."

Tyler ignored that completely.

He reached the table and took out several folded pages —rough notes, sketches, pressure ratios, observations, and the refining method he had pieced together from experiment after experiment.

He handed the papers to her.

"These are the results," he said. "Everything I figured out about Carbonyx so far."

Veena took them carefully, her expression becoming serious as she unfolded the first page.

Tyler continued, "You helped me more than enough already. You gave me information, shelter, materials, and more patience than I expected, so keep those notes and use them however you think is right."

Then his voice lowered slightly.

"If possible, I also need the rebels’ help for something."