Chapter 27: High Voltage
The sun was sinking, and with it, Asher's chances of building a mechanical lock.
He stared at the heavy iron gates of the workshop, his mind racing through blueprints. Tumblers? Too complex. Deadbolts? Too slow to manufacture. He didn't need to keep people out forever; he just needed to stop an army for one night.
He needed something faster. Something dangerous.
"Lucas," Asher snapped, turning to the young apprentice. "Take me to the water mill. Now."
The mill was a relic of the old world, a dusty building beside the river that hummed with a low, vibrating groan. Inside, massive wooden fans—turbines—churned the water sluggishly.
Asher frowned. "Inefficient. Look at the drag on those blades."
"It generates the lighting for the estate, Asher," Lucas said, trying to keep up with his stride. "But it flickers often."
"That's because the load is too heavy," Asher muttered, walking up to the main drive shaft. He turned to the craftsmen who were loitering nearby. "Listen up! I need these wooden blades shaved down. Reduce the weight by thirty percent. And check the copper windings on the main motor—they're loose. Tighten them."
The craftsmen blinked. "Sir? We don't touch the—"
"Do it!" Asher commanded, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "We need maximum output tonight. If this mill fails, we all die."
As the men scrambled to work, Asher spotted the old butler, Alfred, standing by the door, looking worried.
"Alfred," Asher called out. "I have a job for you."
Alfred bowed stiffly. "Young Master? Do you require tea?"
"No," Asher said, his face dead serious. "I need you to catch a rat. A big one. And bring it to the front gate in an hour."
Alfred paused, his composure slipping for a second. "A... rat, sir? May I ask why?"
"You'll find out soon," Asher said, already turning back to the wiring. "Just don't get bitten."
Across the city, in the dim light of a tavern backroom, Garret the "Jagged" was sharpening a blade that looked more like a saw than a sword.
Around him, a dozen men from the Blackwood gang were checking their gear—leather armor, heavy clubs, and daggers. They were eager. The vendors were weak prey.
"Listen close," Garret growled, testing the edge of his blade against his thumb. "My father gave strict orders. We take the workshop. We break the vendors."
He paused, his eyes narrowing.
"But the Magician—Asher Grey—he stays alive. Father wants him breathing."
"And the rest?" one of the thugs asked, grinning.
Garret sheathed his weapon. "Put them to sleep. A very deep sleep. If they don't wake up tomorrow, that's just bad luck."
The men laughed, a low, cruel sound. They weren't planning on taking prisoners.
Back at the workshop, the sun had fully set.
The iron gate stood closed, looking completely normal. But if one looked closely, they would see two thick copper wires running from the mill, snaking through the grass, and clamped onto the metal bars of the gate.
"Switch it on," Asher ordered.
Inside the mill, a lever was thrown. A low hum filled the air, like a hive of angry bees, but nothing moved. The gate just stood there.
Lucas scratched his head, looking disappointed. "Asher... I don't understand. It's just a gate. How does this stop an army? There are no spikes, no barricades."
"It's a psychological weapon, Lucas," Asher said calmly. "And a physical one."
Just then, Alfred appeared, holding a small cage covered in a cloth. He looked thoroughly dignified despite holding a squeaking sewer rat.
"The specimen you requested, Young Master."
"Perfect," Asher said. He looked at Lucas. "You asked how it works? Watch."
Asher pointed to the gate. "Alfred, toss the rat onto the metal bars."
Alfred hesitated, then opened the cage and swung. The large rat flew through the air, sensing freedom, and grabbed onto the iron bars of the gate to climb over.
ZAP.
There was a loud crack, like a whip snapping. A spark of blue light flashed instantly.
The rat didn't even squeak. It went stiff, smoke curled from its fur, and it dropped to the ground, stone dead.
Lucas jumped back, his eyes wide. "By the Gods! Did... did you just use lightning magic?"
"No magic," Asher said, walking over to inspect the wires. "Physics. The gate is now a live circuit. Anything that touches it completes the connection to the ground."
Lucas looked at the dead rat, then at Asher, terrified. "If... if the Blackwoods touch that... will they die like the rat?"
Asher shook his head. "No. A human is much larger than a rat. The resistance is higher. It won't kill them instantly—it will just shock their muscles, lock their nervous system, and knock them unconscious."
He looked at the dark road leading to the workshop.
"But when they see a flash of blue light and their friends dropping to the ground shaking... they'll think it's high-tier Thunder Magic."
Asher smiled grimly. "And that fear is exactly what we need."