Darkness.
That was all Ardhana remembered before the world hit him with blinding light.
The sound of screaming, the smell of wet earth, and the cool tropical breeze embraced his small body.
> "He's born! The prince is born!"
Ardhana opened his eyes slowly. Not in a hospital, not in the modern world—but in a teakwood stilt house, with bamboo walls, and the scent of betel leaves wafting through the air.
Outside, the sound of drums and cheers could be heard.
Inside, a tired-faced woman touched his cheek.
> "My son… Ardhana Wiratmaja."
The name echoed in his head like an ancient echo. Something inside him whispered that this name… was no coincidence.
As his eyes scanned the room, the scene became clearer:
I wasn't in the modern age anymore. I was… reborn.
And like a large, clear river, the memories of his old life suddenly gushed back.
Life as a 21st-century man—failed, broken, on the verge of giving up.
The millions of theories about science, technology, and history that once filled his head now seemed neatly and orderly stored away.
His old resolve emerged:
"If I'm given another chance… I will change the world."
---
15 Years Later
The small kingdom of Ardhanusa lay on the southern coast of Java, but was barely mentioned in future history books. Not because it was weak—but because it was too small to be considered important.
The land was vast but poor.
The people were strong but uneducated.
The leaders were kind but simple.
And today, in front of the small palace courtyard, Ardhana—now 15 years old—stood gazing out at the vastness of his homeland. The wind carried the scent of the sea, along with the distant call of seagulls.
He held a short sword made of low-quality iron.
With a light touch, the sword bent.
Ardhana took a deep breath.
"With iron like this, how could this kingdom possibly survive for hundreds of years?"
A young servant approached, his face nervous.
> "Young master… did the sword break again?"
Ardhana simply nodded.
The servant bowed deeply.
> "Forgive us… our blacksmiths can only produce such quality…"
Ardhana smiled slightly. It wasn't a mocking smile, but the smile of someone who had just received an answer.
> "Yes. In fact, this is a good start."
The servant was confused.
> "The beginning… of what, sir?"
Ardhana gazed into the distance toward the hill where the iron ore was abundant.
> "The beginning of a new civilization."
---
That afternoon, Ardhana summoned two important figures:
Rakai Darma, the head of the kingdom's warriors
Empu Wangsita, the oldest blacksmith
They eyed Ardhana skeptically—after all, he was only a young prince who rarely made appearances.
Ardhana unfurled a palm leaf scroll containing a strange image…
A structure with a tall furnace, air pipes, and a combustion chamber.
Empu Wangsita nearly fell over when he saw it.
> "This… what furnace? It's unlike any royal furnace in Java!"
Ardhana stared at them with conviction.
> "This is called a blast furnace. If we build it, we can produce purer, stronger, and lighter iron."
Rakai Darma narrowed his eyes.
> "That will double the strength of our soldiers?"
Ardhana stepped forward.
> "Not double…"
"But equal to a great kingdom even older than Majapahit."
"And one day… equal to the foreign nations who will come bringing cannons and gunpowder."
Rakai Darma immediately felt goosebumps.
> "Foreign nations? Cannons? What are they like?"
Ardhana smiled faintly.
> "You will see it… but not today."
Today, he decided one thing:
> "From now on, we will build the first iron factory in the archipelago."
Empu Wangsita swallowed.
> "That… is nearly impossible, Sir."
> "True," Ardhana replied, "but everything impossible always begins with someone who dares to try."
---
At night, Ardhana sat on his balcony, watching the full moon hang in the sky.
He remembered something—a memory no 15-year-old should have.
How foreign nations colonized the Indonesian archipelago with technology.
How the Indonesian kingdoms collapsed one by one.
How Majapahit disintegrated and disappeared.
His old world beckoned, but his new world challenged him.
In the distance, the glow of torches signaled that workers were beginning to build the foundations of a giant furnace according to Ardhana's design.
He smiled slightly—calm, yet determined.
> "This kingdom will not be a footnote in history."
"This kingdom will be the origin of light."
"And I… Ardhana Wiratmaja… will lead the Indonesian archipelago into the future."
Under the moonlight, the first ironworks of the new era began to rise.
The era of the Eastern Light Civilization officially began.