Reincarnation of Nikola Tesla in another world

Over time, Kim started noticing more than just whispers and shadows. The world around Braelor's Rest came alive with sounds - the steady bang-bang-bang from the village forge below, sheep bleating in the fields, and wind rustling through the dry grass. Inside the orphanage, wooden bowls scraped against tables, fire crackled in the hearth, and sometimes at night, you could hear kids crying in their sleep.

Through the orphanage's windows, he often watched the village below. Green-skinned orcs hauled heavy loads while human overseers barked orders. Goblins scurried between buildings, doing the jobs nobody else wanted, their small forms darting away from kicks and thrown stones.

"Why're they treated like that?" Kim asked one day, breaking his usual silence as he watched a goblin child get chased away from the village well.

Marga's weathered face hardened. "Because people fear what's different," she said, her voice low. "The Kingdom of Gulbarg won the war fifty years ago. Made slaves of the losing side. Ain't right, but that's how it is." She went back to stirring the morning porridge, but added quietly, "Magic or no magic, cruelty's still cruelty."

Life at the orphanage followed strict routines. Up before the sun, when the air was sharp with cold even in summer. Breakfast was always the same bland porridge, eaten in silence. Then came chores - hauling water from the well, sweeping stone floors, fixing torn clothes. Even the littlest kids had to help.

One morning, while Kim was sorting through a pile of donated clothes, he overheard two village women talking to Marga.

"Those orc children you took in last month," one said, her nose wrinkled. "Surely they're too... wild for this place?"

Marga's voice was steel. "Children are children. Don't care if they're human, orc, or goblin. All of them need food and shelter same as any other."

"But they have no magic," the other woman pressed. "They'll never be proper members of society."

"Neither do half the humans in the village," Marga shot back. "Including you, Lady Merith. Being born with magic doesn't make anyone better. Now, if you're not here to help, the door's that way."

Kim watched everything with those unnaturally still eyes of his, catching things other kids missed. He saw how Marga could start a fire with just a touch and a whispered word. He noticed Aldric sneaking peeks at an old book about herbs, muttering words that made plants grow faster in their small garden. Lirien's fingers worked magic into fishing nets, making them catch more fish than they should. And Mira seemed to know when rain was coming, like the wind itself was whispering to her.

But not everyone had magic. Most of the village didn't, in fact. They just worked hard with their hands, like the blacksmith whose hammer rang out every day, or the baker who made bread without any magical help at all.

Kim looked at them, head tilted slightly, "Observation, young Aldric, is the foundational pillar of comprehension. To perceive accurately is to begin to understand profoundly." His tone was measured, precise, almost... adult, yet undeniably childlike in its earnestness.

Aldric blinked, momentarily taken aback by the formal response. Then, a grin spread across his face. "'Comprehension'!" he repeated, mimicking Kim's tone exaggeratedly to Lirien and Mira who were giggling softly. "Fancy words for a kid!"

Lirien, emboldened by Aldric's teasing, leaned forward. "Are you ever going to talk, properly, Kim? Like... normal words? Not those... big ones?" She offered him a small, brightly colored button she'd been hoarding. "Here," she said shyly. "For your collection... of silence."

Kim accepted the button with a slow, deliberate movement, . "Your offering, Lirien, is... acceptable. While verbal articulation may be deemed conventionally 'normal,' silence, in its own right, possesses a profound communicative capacity. It allows for... focused introspection." He turned the button over in his hand again. "And this button...it is indeed quite...button-like."

That made even Mira crack a smile.

One afternoon, while tasked with sorting through a pile of cast-off items from the noble houses, Kim found it. Buried beneath torn silks and chipped porcelain, a small, tarnished silver locket. It was unremarkable at first glance, its clasp broken, its surface dull with age. But when his fingers brushed against it, a faint warmth radiated outwards, a subtle vibration humming beneath his skin.

He picked it up, turning it over in his small hand. The metal felt alive, thrumming with a faint energy. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation. The warmth intensified, spreading up his arm, a tingling sensation reaching his fingertips. He felt a pull, a connection, as if the locket were whispering secrets he could almost understand.

He opened his eyes, and a flicker of understanding sparked in his mind. It wasn't just metal. It was a vessel, a conduit. Something within the locket resonated with the unseen energy he felt permeating the world.

That evening, by the dying fire, Kim watched Marga treat a scrapped knee. Her hands had a faint glow as she worked, whispering words under her breath. Next to her, one of the orc twins - bigger and stronger than human kids their age - was crushing herbs with practiced ease. No magic, but skilled hands all the same.

Kim reached out toward the fading embers, trying to grab that same feeling he'd gotten from the locket. Nothing happened at first. Just cold stone under his fingers.

Then... spark! The embers flared to life for just a second. Most kids didn't notice, too busy with their own things. But Marga's head snapped up, her eyes sharp.

She looked around for a long moment, then went back to her work. But something had changed. She'd felt it. She knew.

Kim looked at his tingling fingers, feeling that old familiar rush. Not just power - understanding. He wasn't just going to watch anymore. He was going to learn. Really learn.

And in the dim light, a small smile crept across his face.