One look at the reading list told Ryden these weren't ordinary books.
When he went to the library to collect them and saw a stack nearly as tall as a person, he almost cursed out loud.
Damn it. Was that old woman messing with him?
Even those three guys couldn't have been this brutal.
Complaining aside, his body was very honest.
He borrowed a car and hauled everything back to the dorm. Otherwise, there was no way he could've moved them.
This car was newly bought.
The one he'd bought with Teacher Dia had already been "confiscated" by his sister, Sera.
Molecular Relativity.
Principles of Material Application.
Advanced Mechanics.
Theory of Combined Machinery.
One book after another.
Every page looked like encrypted scripture.
Either dense formulas or obscure phrasing.
Thankfully, Ryden had lived in America for a long time and was half-blood. American English wasn't a problem.
Otherwise, any foreigner who'd just learned the language would've wanted to scream.
Aside from physics, which he was passable at, everything else felt like reading an alien language.
Without a cheat, Ryden was still just a normal person.
And he was getting irritated.
When irritation built up, it needed an outlet.
So Aunt Sarah became that outlet.
She didn't seem unhappy about it.
On the contrary, she looked rather pleased.
Half a month passed in a blur.
Every day, Ryden went to his mentor to ask about the parts he didn't understand.
In this world, without hacks or shortcuts, if you weren't a god, you studied honestly.
"Beautiful mentor," Ryden said politely, "may I ask about the difficulty in applying Wacker transmission mechanics to engines?"
Inside, he was cursing her viciously.
On the outside, his smile was flawless.
A classic case of smiling while swearing internally.
Ms. Jennifer seemed very satisfied with the compliment.
Her red lips, coated in bright lipstick, curved into a mature, alluring smile.
"It's simple," she said calmly. "You'll understand once you do it yourself. Ryden, I've noticed your effort these past two weeks. You're probably still wondering why I've made you read so much without actually teaching you."
"To be honest," Ryden replied, choosing his words carefully, "I really don't understand. I recognize the words, but they don't recognize me."
If he wanted to learn real skills before graduation, he had to tread carefully.
Ms. Jennifer nodded in approval.
"Your talent is very good. Among all the students I've seen, you rank in the top three. To become a scientist or an inventor, two things matter most."
"One," she raised a finger, "vast and deep theoretical knowledge."
"Two," she raised another, "wild imagination and sharp observation."
She took an elegant sip of coffee before continuing.
"Your imagination is more than sufficient. You often approach perfection. What you lack is theory. This isn't middle school or college. I advocate a learning method I designed myself."
"A devil-style method."
Seeing Ryden listening without interrupting further increased her evaluation of him.
"This method compresses the brain to its limits, forcing theory into instinct through repeated application. Active memory is far superior to forced memorization."
"Then why hasn't this method been promoted?" Ryden asked smoothly. "It would cause a sensation in academia."
Flattery.
An essential skill.
Reading the room saved trouble.
Ask for directions with "idiot" versus "handsome," and the results speak for themselves.
Ms. Jennifer chuckled.
"You've noticed, haven't you? This method only works for a specific type of person."
"Geniuses."
"You are one. Your father was a respectable scientist, and you inherited a sharp mind. The firearms you designed aren't complex, but they eliminate excess and maximize efficiency. I admire that."
It was a rare compliment.
"Next," she continued seriously, "you'll apply what you've learned in the lab. Watch more. Do more. Get your hands dirty. I'll guide you personally. Ask anything you don't understand."
So this was it.
The reading had only been the appetizer.
Ryden felt it.
Hell-mode had begun.
Yet instead of fear, excitement surged through him.
This was what a top-tier academy should be.
Enter, and either be crushed-or absorb everything and rise.
Two paths.
Pick one.
Before this, his self-study had been scattered.
If the AK-47 hadn't been relatively simple, he'd probably still be at home eating porridge.
Hiring a nanny?
With what money?
Now, as long as he was capable, becoming someone like Iron Man wasn't impossible.
Tony Stark had been forty when he broke through, backed by decades of accumulation.
Ryden still had time.
He could at least be a superhero's plus-one.
On the first day of lab instruction, it was only Ryden and Jennifer.
The lab was filled with electronic components and restricted chemical materials unavailable on the market.
"Begin," Jennifer said. "There's no fixed project. Work on whatever you want. If you don't have ideas, you can reference my designs."
She had just pulled out a roll of blueprints-
When Ryden casually placed several rolls of his own on the table.
It was like a slap.
Jennifer froze.
Her expression darkened.
Ryden didn't notice.
He was dazzled by the materials.
Some things here didn't even exist at Stark Industries.
High-precision diodes.
Capacitors.
Early prototypes of compact circuit boards.
If this continued, a miniature revolution in machine design could happen.
In the nineties, mobile phones were bricks-huge, heavy, with antennas just to get a signal.
With compact boards, devices like phones or tablets could shrink dramatically.
Despite her sour mood, Jennifer's curiosity got the better of her.
She walked to the glass table.
Under the bright lights, the blueprints were clear.
Electromagnetic coils.
A strange device.
Even with her experience, she couldn't immediately tell what Ryden was building.
Permanent magnets.
High-density copper wire.
Transformers.
Scraps of parts merged under his soldering iron into fist-sized boxes.
He spoke while working.
"Ampere's Law. Magnetic deflection. Reversal. Electromagnetic effects."
"Teacher, what do you think happens if we add a magnetic field inside a gun barrel?"
Jennifer adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses, the motion filled with mature charm.
"It would affect velocity, direction, and power. It might even cause the barrel to explode."
She looked at him sharply.
"You're an experimental lunatic."
Ryden's mind was racing.
"Exactly. That's why I came here. If we isolate the magnetic field so it only acts inside the barrel, with a fixed direction-"
Jennifer's eyes changed.
"Then you succeed. Kinetic energy increases dramatically. Field strength determines output. The power would skyrocket."
"How do you plan to do it?"
"Insulation. Isolate magnetic induction. Guide direction with field strength."
Ryden frowned.
Still theoretical.
"You could use magnets in key sections," Jennifer added calmly. "So propulsion stays stable, and only activates when the magnetic field engages."
That was it.
The key.
"Yes!" Ryden exclaimed. "And regulate it with high-density resistors-use temperature to control field strength!"
Slap.
In his excitement, Ryden smacked a certain part of Jennifer's back.
Then immediately went back to work, unaware of what he'd done.
Thanks to regular exercise, the physical work was effortless.
Jennifer stared at him with a complicated expression.
These science maniacs...
No sense of boundaries at all.
Three disciples.
Each crazier than the last.
Half a month passed in immersion.
Ryden's thinking broke through.
What once felt obscure became clear.
Problems that looked terrifying were actually simple.
At home, Aunt Sarah stared anxiously at a slip of paper.
Two days ago, they'd gone to the hospital for a check-up.
She hadn't been feeling well.
When Ryden returned, she didn't speak.
She handed him the paper.
"Master Ryden... what should we do?"
Ryden took it.
Curious.
What could make Aunt Sarah this worried?
Terminal illness?
Impossible.
He read it.
Name: Sarah Rogers
Test Result: Pregnant
His mind went blank.
I... actually did it?
Am I going to be a dad?
Is Steve going to kill me?
Seeing the tears in her eyes, he snapped back.
If he hesitated now, she'd think he was trash.
Impossible.
Being trash wasn't an option.
Not in this life.
"I'm fine," he said immediately. "It's just pregnancy. We'll raise the child. Aunt Sarah, don't worry. I'll take care of you for the rest of your life. Focus on resting and the baby."
Hearing his promise, Aunt Sarah broke down in tears of joy.
She threw herself into his arms.
Crying like a woman who had finally found happiness.
She knew she hadn't chosen wrong.
If he'd told her to abort it, she would've left him no matter what.
She would still have the child.
Kindness.
That was always Aunt Sarah's most radiant beauty.
IF YOU LIKE THE STORY PLEASE COMMENT AND RATE THE STORY AND ADD IT TO YOUR LIBRARY
YOUR SUPPORT IS VERY MUCH APPRECIATED