Wanting a clock

Bart nearly passed out when Michael introduced him to the mansion's clock. The sheer complexity of its gears and the pendulum system inside almost made his head spin—it was even more complicated than some magic theories!

At first, Bart didn't understand what was so special about the machine. After all, it wasn't as obviously useful as the faucet or the toilet.

But when Michael explained to him how the entire day was split into 24 hours and how the clock ticked for a constant amount of time, the realization finally struck him like a lightning bolt.

"This…this is magnificent!" Bart exclaimed in praise.

As a businessman, he understood how important timekeeping was in the industry.

For example, everyone in the business industry always had a problem with the shipment of goods between two different places.

A shipment that was sent early during the day and would reach its destination before sundown. However, both parties didn't have a precise way to estimate when that shipment would return. After all, they had no frame of reference to how much time would pass before the carriage would reach its destination.

Sure, there were sundials and hourglasses, but they were too inconsistent.

With this clock, however, everyone could agree on when the shipment would arrive. They would know that the shipment from Kingsbridge to the next town over would need four ticks of the clock or four hours.

This would revolutionize commerce!

And that was just the application he could think of as a businessman. The potential benefits for the public were endless.

Bart cleared his throat, forcing himself to not sound too excited. "Ahem… another great work, son. Your work is truly one of a kind."

Bart had to reign in his enthusiasm for the clock. After all, it wasn't his. No matter how much he wanted his own clock for his business, he wouldn't ask for one. After all, it wouldn't be right to ask a favor from his five-year-old son.

Michael, however, saw right through him. "Dad, do you want to have a clock?"

Bart jolted, his body shaking in excitement. But still, he didn't let his emotions get the best of him.

"You created this, so it rightfully belongs to you. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to take it for myself."

Yet, the gleam in his eyes betrayed his words. He was practically salivating at the thought of having his own clock!

"It's fine dad," Michael waved off his father's concern. "I can make one for you! The only problem is that I don't have enough raw materials right now."

Bart looked at Michael, anticipation creeping into his voice. "Are you sure?"

Lylia snuggled up to her husband's arms and teased. "Fufufu… stop pretending, dear. I know you want one for yourself."

Then, she turned to Michael with a warm smile. "Don't worry about the materials, honey. I want you to create that clock and show us how you constructed this magnificent work of art!"

Lylia's motivations for this were completely different from Bart's. While Bart wanted a clock for practical reasons, she wanted to witness her son perform Earth magic to satisfy her desire to see first-hand how much of a genius her five-year-old son was at it.

Since building the clock would take a couple of days, Michael continued the tour, leading his parents to his latest creation—the hot springs.

Stepping out of the mansion, they went over to the steaming stone building next to it.

The maids and butlers immediately moved to assist them in entering the hot springs, by fanning the flames to keep the temperature hot and showing them the proper attire inside.

The maids helped Lydia while the butlers assisted Bart.

Bart let the steam rise to his face, sighing in satisfaction. "This reminds me of the hot baths overseas."

He had once visited a distant country famous for its hot springs, a place that drew millions upon millions of foreigners to their country every single year. He would have never thought that Michael could create something similar to those hot springs when there wasn't even a single volcano around.

"This is… relaxing," Bart murmured as he sank deeper into the hot springs.

It wasn't just the soothing warmth that relieved him of the stress and fatigue from his body, it was also the fact that his son was a transcendent genius who would have no trouble flourishing in the world.

He no longer had any doubt whether Michael's grandfather would leave him any inheritance. The old man would recognize the ingenuity in Michael's inventions and immediately fund him to create more stuff in the future.

Bart exhaled, fully at ease, knowing that his son was a genius.

Michael was able to create innovative solutions to problems that even the intellectuals hadn't figured out for thousands of years. And if there existed a solution, it would largely involve magic and spells.

But Michael was able to create running water with simple physics. This meant that everyone could use this invention, regardless of whether they were poor or rich or whether they had magical abilities or not.

"You'll do well in the future, son," Bart said.

Michael, relaxing next to his father in the hot springs, for some reason, had a strange feeling. He couldn't help but feel that Bart was trying to tell him something but decided that he was far too young to understand and let the thought slip away.

"MICHAEL!!!!"

Just then, Lylia's voice thundered through the thick stone walls that separated the men's and women's sections of the hot springs.

Both father and son flinched, knowing what would come next.

A moment later, Lylia stormed into the men's section with a towel wrapped around her body.

"What's wrong, Mom?" Michael asked, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"What's this I hear about you bathing with the maids?" she asked with a smile, yet her eyes were painted with bloodshed.

"Uhh…."

"This is unacceptable! How could you bathe with them and not with me? You're coming over to our side of the hot springs this instant!"

Just when he thought he had dodged that bullet and was about to excuse himself from bathing in the women's section…

He had explicitly told the maids not to mention anything about this to his mother, but it seemed that his mother was a better interrogator than she was a mage.

"And don't think you can get away without letting me pinch your cheeks!" Lylia added, her hands on her waist. 

She was serious.

To get out of this situation, he knew that there was only one thing he could do.

He raised his hand and conjured a ball of water, a small rock, and a flickering flame, before making all of them rotate around his palm using wind magic.

"Look, mom! I can cast all four elements!"