Allen put down the Feather Pen. On the parchment, the blast furnace blueprint he had painstakingly drawn was finally down to its last details.
In his mind, DSeek's text interface was still running its final optimizations.
"Plan A: Introduce regenerative checker bricks. Estimated thermal efficiency increase: 18%."
"Plan B: Utilize a metal heat exchanger. Estimated efficiency increase: 22%. However, the issue of refractory materials must be resolved."
"Consider feasibility, cost, and current manufacturing capabilities, and give me the optimal solution," Allen added. "Don't give me another one of those theoretically perfect setups that actually requires hand-forging high-temperature alloys."
"Understood. Downgrading and adapting to the host's current late-medieval technological level... Recommending a simplified version of Plan A. Estimated efficiency increase: 12%."
A slight wave of dizziness washed over him.
"Warning: Today's information processing quota is nearly depleted."
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a bit helpless. He was a Transmigrator who had brought an AI along, yet lacked a supercomputer to host it. DSeek was an artificial intelligence—his greatest secret and reliance. In the days since his transmigration, he had been adapting to his identity as the seventh Prince of the Rhine Kingdom while exploring this unexpected companion.
It was originally a writing assistant tool from his past life, but for some unknown reason, it had followed his consciousness to this world. DSeek acted like a treasury of knowledge sealed deep within his mind, storing all the memories and learning from his previous life. He could flip through this data at any time. From general encyclopedias to the "Barefoot Doctor's Manual," from introductions to the theory of relativity to the postpartum care of sows, it had everything.
However, DSeek could not perceive the outside world directly; it relied entirely on his eyes as cameras. What was worse, this fifteen-year-old brain had limited computing power, meaning there was a daily cap on DSeek's deep-processing quota. Exceeding it? At best, he would suffer from dizziness and blurred vision; at worst, he would get a nosebleed and pass out on the spot. This forced him to use every calculation where it counted most.
The text in his mind continued to refresh slowly. New air preheating pipes were added to the blueprint, with estimated efficiency data floating beside them. The feeling of planning the future was incredibly intoxicating. Cement, steel, gunpowder... He intended to use these era-surpassing technologies to blast through Knight armor and feudal castles. Building a stairway to the pinnacle of power with his own hands and liberating the pitiful, oppressed commoners—just thinking about it made his blood boil with excitement.
"Forced high-load calculations may trigger a neurological headache," DSeek's warning popped up again.
"Well, that's enough for today," he thought, deciding his "homework" was more or less finished. Still feeling a bit reluctant to stop, Allen closed the blueprint in his mind.
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze unconsciously sweeping across the study. The embers in the fireplace were gradually dimming, allowing shadows to creep into the corners. Only the silver desk lamp on his table continued to emit a soft, steady glow. It produced no smoke, required no lamp oil, and didn't even give off any heat. It just shone quietly, seeming as though it would never extinguish.
He had been using this lamp for a few years now. According to the original owner's memories, it was standard issue for the royal family. He had always assumed it was made of some sort of fluorite, or perhaps a cheap trick of this world's "Magic." Regarding the latter, he had always maintained the arrogance of a Transmigrator, believing that it was mostly just some misunderstood physical or chemical phenomenon, or perhaps just smoke and mirrors.
But it was too stable—unreasonably stable. A thought suddenly popped into his head. "DSeek, analyze the light source in front of me."
"Warning: The database contains no direct match for this light source. Initiating multi-hypothesis deduction..."
"Huh?" he thought. DSeek rarely used the word "warning." Allen sat up straight, his eyes fixed on the lamp.
"Hypothesis A (Bioluminescence): Excluded. Spectral analysis based on the host's visual perception indicates that the wavelength is too uniform and stable, lacking the radiation characteristics of a living organism."
"Hypothesis B (Chemiluminescence): Excluded. The brightness is constant with no attenuation, far exceeding the limits of known chemiluminescent materials."
"Hypothesis C (Electroluminescence): Low probability. No conventional circuit structure detected."
One by one, deductions based on Earth's science were ruthlessly crossed out. Allen's breath caught in his throat. DSeek was not an omniscient god, but it was an absolutely rational logic engine. Right now, it was telling him that this lamp violated every physical law he knew!
"Hypothesis D (Unknown Energy Drive): High probability. A crystalline object is detected as the luminescent core. Its energy release pattern is precisely regulated by micro-structural striations on the lamp wall."
"Deduction: The target is a lighting device driven by an unknown high-density energy source, utilizing an unknown micro-structure to achieve highly efficient energy conversion. Its technological principles far surpass the host's current era!"
"Recommendation: Designate this unknown high-density energy source and unknown micro-structure as primary research targets. They may represent an entirely new, mature paradigm of energy application."
"Unknown high-density energy? Unknown micro-structure? A brand-new energy application paradigm?!" he thought. The words exploded in his mind as Allen's fingers suddenly clenched.
He picked up the lamp, his fingertips brushing against the crystal in the center of the base.
"This isn't a decoration! This is clearly some kind of... circuit board! Some kind of hyper-precise engineered creation!" he realized. He stared intently at the lamp in his hand. The crystal seemed to be staring back at him with a hint of mockery.
Something he had used for months, and the original owner had used for over a decade, had now become the most terrifying proof. A highly developed technology that he couldn't comprehend at all had already permeated the daily life of this world like the air they breathed! And he, like all mortals, had turned a blind eye to it, taking it entirely for granted.
His entire worldview violently collapsed in his mind. He had always thought he was the mastermind behind the scenes, holding the script of the Industrial Revolution, ready to launch an asymmetrical strike against this feudal world. Only now did he realize that even he might just be a piece on a higher-dimensional chessboard.
"Fuck..." he cursed under his breath. "I fucking thought I was playing 'Civilization VI', but this damn place is a 'StarCraft' set, and I'm still figuring out how to hand-craft a spear?"
The blast furnace blueprint on the desk now looked incredibly glaring. To achieve that smelting temperature of 1,200 degrees, he had made DSeek run calculations for three whole days. Yet the lamp in his hand, which remained at room temperature year-round, could continuously emit light.
"What about the conservation of energy? What about the laws of thermodynamics?" he thought frantically. "If this world really possesses this kind of black tech... what's the point of the nineteenth-century gadgets I brought from Earth? No, wait. Calm down."
Allen forced himself to take a deep breath.
"Maybe this is just a rare resource? Something only the royal family can use? Maybe... I've misjudged this world from the very beginning!" he thought.
He immediately shouted, "Someone, come here!"
When a servant entered in response, Allen's voice had already suppressed all inner turmoil, leaving only unquestionable decisiveness.
"Go invite Advisor Merlin. Right now! Immediately!" He stared into the servant's eyes, emphasizing every single word. "Tell him I have a question regarding 'lighting' to ask him."
Merlin. The court advisor he had always believed was just playing pretend. Now, perhaps only he could provide the answers.