After Joshua met all the requirements for funds and parts, he could finally complete his ideal, the reactor. Joshua spent days and nights working, fixing, and adjusting the reactor so much so that sometimes he would forget to follow his list of chores and lecture if not for his friends reminding him. And after many days of sweat, blood, and tears with his friends.
[Room 402—The Night Before]
"Connection stable. Magnetic containment field at 100%."
Joshua dropped the wrench onto the workbench with a heavy clang. He slumped back into his chair, wiping grease and sweat from his forehead.
"It's done," he exhaled.
The Arc Reactor Mark I sat in the center of the room. It wasn't just a prototype anymore; it was a finished product. The palladium core gleamed under the workshop lights, encased in a sleek ring of copper and reinforced steel. It was silent, waiting to be woken up.
"Finally," Muelsyse groaned from the floor, where she was sprawled out on a pile of cushions. "If I had to run one more coolant simulation, my brain was going to liquefy."
"Inefficient posture," Kristen noted, typing the final line of code into the diagnostic tablet. "But the data is solid. The energy output density exceeds standard Originium engines by a factor of three."
Saria walked over, placing two fresh pizzas on the table. "Eat. We need energy for tomorrow."
The tension broke. They ate like starving wolves, the exhaustion giving way to giddy excitement.
"So," Muelsyse teased, stealing a pepperoni from Joshua's slice. "Is the 'Idol Engineer' ready for his encore? Or are you going to sing the presentation?"
"I am going to speak," Joshua laughed, nudging her away. "With science."
"Just don't trip," Saria said, though she was smiling. She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "You built a miracle, Joshua. Make them see it."
Eventually, the girls drifted off to sleep—Muelsyse on the couch, Kristen slumping over her desk, and Saria heading to her room.
Joshua remained. He stood before the reactor, the silence of the dorm wrapping around him. He ran his gloved finger along the cold metal casing.
This is it, he thought. No more hiding. No more 'Nullifier.' Tomorrow, we change the world.
[The Grand Exhibition Hall—The Next Morning]
The science fair was a battlefield of egos.
The hall was packed with students, professors, and corporate scouts from across Columbia. The air buzzed with the hum of drones and the crackle of Arts.
The "Golden Quartet" dominated the morning sessions.
Kristen Wright presented a high-altitude atmospheric drone. Her speech was cold, rapid, and mathematically perfect. The judges were terrified and impressed. Saria demonstrated a kinetic-dampening shield generator based on her Calcification Arts. She invited a professor to hit it with a sledgehammer. The sledgehammer broke. The judges applauded. Muelsyse showed off a bio-dome with a self-sustaining hydrological cycle. It was beautiful and elegant. The judges were charmed.
Then, it was the afternoon slot.
"Next presenter: Joshua Obsidian."
As Joshua rolled his covered cart onto the stage, the whispers started.
Mockery. Skepticism. The audience saw a celebrity, not a scientist.
Joshua stood behind the podium. He adjusted the microphone. He looked out at the sea of faces—the doubts, the smirks. He looked up to the balcony where Saria, Kristen, and Muelsyse stood, watching him.
He took a deep breath.
"Terra is dying," Joshua began.
The room went quiet. It wasn't the opening they expected.
"Look around you," Joshua continued, his voice steady. "Every light in this hall. Every drone in the sky. Every city on this planet. What powers them?"
He held up a small shard of raw Originium. It glowed with an ominous yellow light.
"Originium. The blood of the earth. It gave us the industrial revolution. It gave us Catastrophes. It gave us Oripathy."
He set the shard down.
"We have accepted a terrible trade. We trade our health for power. We fight wars over mines. We discriminate against the Infected because we fear the very fuel that keeps us warm. We tell ourselves that this is the only way. That the inevitable doom of crystallization is the price of progress."
Joshua gripped the sides of the podium.
"I am a Nullifier. I cannot use Arts. I cannot touch Originium without destroying the reaction. For years, I was told I was broken. That I had no future in this world."
He stepped away from the podium and walked to the covered cart.
"But because I cannot use the poison... I had to find the cure."
He pulled the tarp off.
The Arc Reactor sat there, dull and metallic.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the end of the Originium Age."
Joshua flipped the switch.
THRUM.
There was no roar of combustion. No crackle of unstable magic. Just a deep, resonant hum that vibrated in the chests of everyone in the front row.
Then, the light came.
A brilliant, piercing Azure Blue circle ignited in the center of the reactor. It wasn't the sickly yellow of Originium. It was the color of a clear sky. It was the color of clean water.
The monitors behind him spiked.
OUTPUT: 4.2 GIGAJOULES/SEC.
RADIATION: 0.00%.
ARTS CONTAMINATION: NONE.
Joshua raised his voice over the hum.
"This is the Arc Reactor. It runs on a self-sustaining palladium isotope reaction. It produces zero waste. It causes zero infection. It can power a Mobile City block for a year on a fuel source the size of my fist."
He looked at the stunned crowd.
"We don't have to steal fire from the earth anymore," Joshua declared, his voice ringing with conviction. "We don't have to fear the dust in our lungs. Today, we stop surviving the catastrophe... and we start building the future."
He cut the power. The blue light faded, leaving an afterimage in thousands of eyes.
Silence. Absolute, stunned silence.
Then—one person started clapping. It was Kristen.
Then Saria. Then Muelsyse.
Then the whole hall erupted. It was a roar louder than his concert. Professors were standing up. Scouts were scrambling for their phones. The skepticism was incinerated, replaced by the frantic realization that they had just witnessed history.