Genesis Maker: The Indian Marvel (Rewrite)

________________________________________________________________________________

- Berlin, Germany -

- February 1936 -

The days blurred into a steady rhythm of lectures, discussions, and quiet, methodical practice. Aryan traveled alongside Dr. C.V. Raman, meeting some of the brightest minds in Europe. From the bustling scientific community in Paris to the storied halls of the University of Bologna, then to the emerging fields of physics and chemistry in Madrid, he absorbed knowledge while subtly leaving behind ideas that would ripple through academia.

But learning was only one part of his journey.

Each night, as the world around him rested, Aryan worked. His training had yielded extraordinary results—where he once struggled to maintain two shadow clones, he now commanded five with ease. It was proof of his rapidly increasing energy reserves, the result of absorbing and refining various energy forms—heat from steam engines, kinetic force from bustling cities, even the faint traces of residual magic hidden in the oldest buildings of Europe.

His clones were not Idle. Some explored sites rumored to hold connections to ancient gods or supernatural forces. Abandoned temples, forgotten ruins, even whispered myths that had been relegated to superstition—wherever he went, his presence in these places was rewarded. Meta Points flowed in, his total leaping from a mere 2 MP to 52 MP in a matter of days.

Others carried out his financial endeavors. With careful planning, illusions masking their identities, they entered the underground black markets of Paris, Rome, and Berlin. The goblins' hoard—gold, jewels, trinkets from a world that shouldn't exist—was exchanged for over a million dollars worth of various currencies. The wealth was staggering, and Aryan wasted no time putting it to use.

He knew war was inevitable. Germany was stirring, and the tensions in Europe were only growing. He invested cautiously but decisively, funneling money through illusion-cloaked shell companies. Manufacturing, steel production, medical supplies—industries that would soon thrive under the weight of conflict. He wasn't here to change the course of history, if he tried to do so without any plans he couldn't imagine what sort of horrors it would bring, however, he could certainly benefit from it. It was dark of him to think like that but, he had experienced a lifetime of struggle and enemies who would get down to any low to get themselves the upper hand. And, in this life he was determined to capitalize on anything that benefits his goals no matter how dark it seems.

--------

- February 25,1936 -

Germany was different. The moment he stepped foot in Berlin, Aryan could feel the unease in the air. The city was alive with movement, industry booming under the Nazi regime, but there was something darker beneath the surface.

It wasn't long before he understood why.

A few weeks before his arrival, new laws had been passed—restrictions on Jewish-owned businesses, stripping women under 35 of employment. It was only the beginning, Aryan knew, but even this first step was enough to make his stomach churn. He had seen oppression before, lived under it in his own country. His father never hesitated to let him see the harsh and cruel reality of British rule in India even when he was a five year old at the time. And now, on the other side of the world history was moving toward something even worse.

His blue eyes and name had drawn attention. The Nazis had taken interest in him, and for a brief moment, it seemed he might have to confront them sooner than planned. Then, the meeting scheduled between Hitler, Dr. Raman, and himself was abruptly canceled due to a sudden military emergency.

Aryan felt nothing but relief.

Though his visit to Germany was productive in terms of research and networking, he had no desire to linger any longer than necessary. He had learned all he needed, seen the writing on the wall.

It was time to move forward.

His next stop was the United Kingdom.

The British had been watching him, analyzing his movements, weighing their response to his growing presence. He wasn't going to avoid them any longer.

He was going to confront them head-on.

--------

- Port of Harwich, Essex -

- Late February 1936 -

The journey had been long, but the moment Aryan stepped off the ship onto the damp, grey docks of Harwich, he knew the real challenge had just begun. The salty air mixed with coal smoke from the nearby train station, a stark contrast to the fresh European air he had grown used to.

It wasn't the cold that made his muscles tense. It was the stares.

From the moment he and Raghav had boarded the ferry from the Continent, the treatment had shifted. If Germany had been tense, Britain was outright hostile. Port officials scrutinized their papers longer than necessary, muttering under their breath. Bystanders gave them looks ranging from mild curiosity to outright disgust. A few scoffed when Aryan walked past, some muttering slurs under their breath.

He Ignored them.

It wasn't new. He had lived through British rule in India. He had seen the sneers, the dismissive glances, the way they spoke to his people as if they were lesser beings. He knew their type, and nothing they did could shake him.

But the more he refused to react, the more it irritated them.

An officer inspecting travel documents deliberately took longer than needed, flipping through Aryan's passport as if expecting to find something incriminating. "Quite the traveler, aren't you?" he muttered, glancing up. "Strange to see an Indian moving about so freely."

Aryan met his gaze, unflinching. "It's not strange when one earns the right to be here."

The officer's nostrils flared, but with no excuse to stop him, he slammed the passport shut and waved them through.

Raghav, who had remained silent, let out a quiet breath as they moved toward the train station. "They're already watching us," he murmured.

"They were always going to," Aryan replied, stepping onto the platform. "Let them."

Train to London

The train ride south was no better.

Even with first-class tickets, finding their seats was an ordeal. The conductor gave them a once-over before grudgingly allowing them in. Fellow passengers barely disguised their distaste—some outright moved seats, unwilling to share space with "colonials." Conversations hushed whenever Aryan walked by, but he could hear the whispers, the scoffs.

"Indians in first class? Absurd."

"They should stay in their place."

"They must be servants."

Raghav stiffened at one particularly loud remark, but Aryan placed a firm hand on his shoulder before he could react.

"They want a reaction," Aryan said quietly. "Don't give them the satisfaction."

He took his seat by the window, back straight, expression unreadable. His silence only made them angrier.

When the train reached London's Liverpool Street Station, Aryan exhaled slowly. He hadn't realized how much he had been holding back his temper. But this was only the beginning.

Oxford awaited.

--------

London was overwhelming. The city, vast and imposing, moved like a machine—workers rushing through its streets, its skies thick with industrial smoke. But beneath the grandeur, there was an unshakable sense of division. The people, the society, the very air carried the weight of an empire built on control, on the flesh and bones of the so called 'inferior species'.

Another train ride—this time to Oxford—was no easier. Even in a place of learning, the disdain remained. Stares followed them onto the train, whispers trailing behind. But Aryan walked forward, unfazed. If they wanted to see him as an anomaly, so be it.

The journey passed In tense silence. Only when the university buildings came into view did the weight on his chest lessen slightly.

Oxford University had arranged his stay.

That, at least, meant they had a place to sleep. Even the finest hotels in the city would likely turn them away. But for now, they had a roof over their heads.

As they entered the grand but reserved hotel, the receptionist, though polite, hesitated for a moment before handing them the keys. Aryan caught the slight twitch of her lips, the way her fingers lingered a second too long on the ledger—as if questioning why an Indian had a place here.

He Ignored it.

"Let's rest," Aryan said as they entered their room, his voice calm but firm. "Tomorrow, we face them properly."

________________________________________

For more chapters you can check out my patreon:

patreon.com/MJ_0422

________________________________________

Thanks for reading 🙏 🙏.

If you are liking this story so far please support this novel through the power stones and let me know your thoughts in the comments and please review the book with ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ if you deem it worthwhile.