A violent jolt ended the darkness. Elias coughed, drawing in air that was far cleaner—yet laced with the scent of charcoal and wet earth. He opened his eyes.
The metallic dome of the Temporal Module had shattered into fragments around him, revealing a sky adorned with billowing clouds and, oddly, the silhouette of a giant clocktower spewing steam.
This was not the future he had hoped for, nor the past he knew from history books.
A city stretched out before him, not built of concrete or modern steel, but of dark wood, red brick, and—most astonishingly—an intricate network of copper pipes winding across every structure.
Slender chimneys puffed white smoke into the sky. Gears turned visibly on shop facades, and the air was filled with the distant chimes, hisses of steam, and the muted growl of unseen engines.
"The 15th century?" Elias whispered in disbelief, scanning his surroundings. The people passing by wore old-fashioned clothes—woolen cloaks, wide-brimmed hats—but among them were those wearing protective goggles, thick leather gloves, and carrying strange tools that hissed softly.
Some of the carts weren't pulled by horses, but by clumsy three-wheeled machines powered by steam. This wasn't the 1414 he had studied. This was Anno Domini 1414—a different version, a Steampunk Age.
He checked the pockets of his jacket. Thankfully, a few essential tools remained: a micro-powered multipurpose screwdriver, a small flashlight, and a datapad tablet—completely dead without a power source. But more importantly, he still possessed the blueprints and knowledge of mechanical, physical, and material principles from his own era.
A burly city guard, wearing a sturdy bowler hat and leather vest, narrowed his eyes at Elias.
"Hey, you! What are you doing here? Your clothes… they're strange."
Elias became aware of his appearance—his futuristic attire, the lightweight carbon fiber jacket and multi-pocket cargo pants, stood out blatantly. He had to adapt—and quickly.
"I'm... a traveler from afar," Elias replied, attempting to mimic the accent he'd just heard. "Surprised by a long journey."
The guard squinted suspiciously, but the hiss of a passing steam engine drew his attention away. Elias took the opportunity to slip into a narrow alley, his heart pounding. He was a stranger in a strange land, in the wrong century, in the wrong world—and yet somehow, it felt... familiar.
He found himself in the worker's district, a labyrinth of narrow alleys packed with small workshops. The air reeked of oil, hot metal, and steam. Here and there, young kids ran about—some wearing miniature welding goggles, playing with discarded gears.
He was hungry, thirsty, and penniless. His only asset was his knowledge.
Elias approached an open workshop, where a middle-aged man with oil-stained hands was struggling with a complex mechanism on an "Auto-Puncher."
The machine sputtered, coughed, and spat out black smoke.
"Need a hand?"
Elias asked, his voice a bit hoarse.
The man looked up, frowning.
"You know anything about machines, lad? This is Baron Von Zandt's puncher, and if it's not fixed, I could lose my head."
Elias stepped closer. He saw the problem immediately. Not just one—but several. A blocked steam valve, unstable pressure, and excessive friction on one of the main gears.
This was basic tech to him—a crude steam engine with precision mechanisms.
"The pressure's unstable, and the release valve is too narrow. Also, there's a calibration issue with the drive gear," Elias explained, pointing to various components. "If you'll allow me, I can fix it."
The man looked skeptical—but desperate.
"Alright then, give it a try."
Using his multipurpose screwdriver—which made the man gasp at its small size and efficiency—and his deep understanding of mechanics, Elias worked quickly.
He cleaned the valve, slightly reconfigured the steam routing for better efficiency, and adjusted the gears with astonishing precision. In under an hour, the machine roared back to life—running smoother and more powerfully than ever before.
The man stared, open-mouthed.
"This… this is incredible! Who are you?"
"Just call me Elias," he said with a small smile. "I'm a traveling mechanic. Got any other work?"
That was the beginning of Elias Thorne's reputation in Ironhold—the name he heard locals use for the city. He fixed broken steam pumps, designed more efficient transmission systems for steam-powered windmills, and even helped a blacksmith develop a hotter furnace using controlled steam injection.
Word of the "Miracle Mechanic" began to spread.
Elias, once an outcast in his own time, had found a new purpose. No longer was he building machines that merely repeated the same functions—but creating improvements, foundational upgrades that steampunk engineers here had never even imagined.
He began to understand this new world: a world where steam was king, where invention was currency, and where "mechanics" were the true knights of society.
But he knew this was only the beginning. He had to find out why he was here—and whether it was even possible to return. But more importantly, he realized that his knowledge could change this world—for better, or worse.
The real question was: how would he wield his newfound power in this steam-driven 15th century? And would he become a savior—or a threat to the balance of this world?