Reborn as a Hated Noble Family, We Start an Industrial Revolution

​A wave of sudden heat swept across the back of his neck.

​Dom had already half-risen from the driver’s bench before the fireball could even register its impact on the rear of the carriage. Shing! His left hand instantly clamped around the hilt of his longsword. His eyes scanned the darkness of the pine forest on both sides—calculating distance, searching for enemy silhouettes, and predicting the trajectory of a follow-up attack.

​Below, Naya vaulted down soundlessly, her twin daggers tracing lethal arcs as she dropped into a deadly, low crouch. Even Adul—who was usually the first to scramble for a hiding spot—now stood rigid, clutching a small pocketknife he had apparently concealed beneath his robes. His chest heaved as he held his breath.

​Yet, no rain of arrows came. No battle cries echoed.

​There was only the quiet of the forest, punctuated by the crackle of burning wood.

​From behind the charred underbrush, two figures slowly emerged. They were merely teenagers in uniform—thick, dark blue robes adorned with a silver sun emblem on their left chests.

​One was a boy, walking stiffly with a defiant expression clearly forced to mask his trembling legs. Trailing behind him was a girl, clutching the edge of his robe, half-hiding with a face as white as parchment.

​They whispered in a panic. The boy elbowed his companion, gesturing for her to step forward. The girl shook her head vigorously. Another shove. Another refusal. After a tense, awkward, whispered debate, they finally dragged their feet toward the carriage. Their pace was comparable to a tired, ancient snail.

​”W-We’re sorry...” the girl’s voice trembled.

​Dom stared down at her from the driver’s bench. His face was entirely devoid of emotion. His gaze was cold and hollow, much like an apex predator sizing up its prey. For some reason, that look forced the girl back two steps. Gulp. The sound of her swallowing was loud and clear.

​”Do you have any idea what you just did?” Dom’s voice fell flat. He didn’t shout. He didn’t raise his tone. But every syllable landed like a massive boulder crushing their chests.

​”Eek... forgive us!” The girl—Lira—yanked her companion’s arm backward, clinging to him like a drowning person to a log.

​The carriage door swung open. Roland stepped down, brushing dust from his coat. ”Hah... what on earth is this?”

​Lira’s eyes met Roland’s. Whatever color remained in her face completely drained away. She clutched her companion, Charis, with the expression of someone who had just looked death in the eye.

​Charis swallowed hard, forcing himself to look brave. He bowed deeply, his hand pushing Lira’s neck down to force her to do the same. ”Forgive us! We... we are students of Luminous Academy in the Capital. We were on a hunting mission for our rank advancement exam. My companion—” Charis glanced at Lira, who was still shivering, ”—her fire magic accuracy is... incredibly abysmal. We are truly, deeply sorry.”

​Roland folded his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing. ”Sorry?”

​”Yes, sir. We didn’t mean to—”

​”Do you think a simple ’sorry’ can stitch a person’s life back together?” Roland’s voice rose an octave, though his posture remained relaxed. It was enough to make Lira’s shoulders flinch in fright. ”If that brainless fireball had struck my driver, what would you have done? Replaced his head?”

​From the driver’s bench, Dom murmured in his heavy baritone, ”I am not that fragile, My Lord.”

​Without turning, Roland whispered from the corner of his mouth, ”Shh. Quiet for a moment. I’ve got this.”

​Charis straightened his posture. His jaw tightened. The guilt in his eyes slowly surrendered to the fragile ego of an educated noble who felt cornered.

​”What else would you have us do? Know that the Goddess herself is All-Forgiving, and commands every servant to broaden their hearts.” Charis cast an accusatory look at Roland. ”Or perhaps... you are not a believer? Are you part of the Pagan Order?”

​The name hung in the air, bringing with it an invisible chill.

​Inside the carriage cabin, Eva’s body instantly went rigid. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the hem of her gown too hard. The Pagan Order. Charis had directed the term at Roland, not her. The teenager had no idea who she was. Yet, her chest felt suffocatingly tight.

​Sensing the tension, Naya leaned in close beside her. ”Shh... no need to tense up,” she whispered reassuringly. ”Lord Roland will handle these children.”

​Eva merely responded with a stiff nod, her fingers not loosening their grip in the slightest.

​Outside, Roland didn’t draw a weapon. Instead, he offered a thin smile, then casually walked up to Charis. The distance between them closed until the tips of their boots touched, forcing Charis to look up at the much taller man.

​Then, without warning.

​Thwack!

​Roland rapped his knuckles squarely against the center of Charis’s forehead. It wasn’t overly hard, but the sound was sharp and incredibly satisfying.

​”Ow!” Lira let out a small squeak, quickly slapping a hand over her mouth.

​”Heh,” Roland smirked. ”Do you think the Goddess will accept your apology just because you wield her holy verses as a shield?”

​Charis rubbed his reddening forehead, looking utterly bewildered and deeply embarrassed. ”What do you mean—”

​”Forgiveness requires humility, kid. Not ego. You have to lower your head if you want the Goddess to overlook your stupidity.” Roland stared directly into the depths of the teenager’s eyes. ”Do you understand now?”

​Charis stood frozen. His clenched fists slowly relaxed to his sides. The arrogance in his eyes evaporated, replaced by a bitter realization. Roland was right.

​”Then... what can we do to make amends?” Charis mumbled, bowing his head in resignation.

​Roland’s diplomatic smile bloomed instantly. ”Simple. Be our guides to the Capital.”

​Charis blinked in doubt. ”Pardon, sir, but security is incredibly tight right now. Many refugees—”

​”I know. We have this.” Roland reached into his pocket, displaying the parchment scroll stamped with the red wax of the seven-rayed sun. ”We just need a local guide.”

​Charis stared at the authentic seal with wide eyes, then looked at Roland with a completely different gaze. Respect mingled with awe. ”Oh. If you have that pass, My Lord... of course, we would be honored. But, uh... may we ride inside? Our legs are about to give out from walking since dawn.”

​Roland tucked the scroll away. ”Why not? Climb aboard.”

​The carriage wheels creaked over the gravel once more, now heavier with the two additional passengers.

​Lira huddled in the corner of her seat, the color not yet fully returned to her face. Her fingers continuously wrung the hem of her blue robe—a repetitive motion showing her anxiety had yet to settle. Adul, seated directly across from her, observed in silence. After hesitating for a few minutes, Adul reached into his bag and pulled out a leaf-wrapped bundle.

​”Um... would you like some?” Adul offered suddenly.

​Lira flinched, staring at the bundle in Adul’s hand with caution. ”W-what is it?”

​”Fried pastry. Filled with minced meat and a bit of pickle. I bought it at the Sanctum market. It’s still good.”

​Lira’s hand trembled as she accepted it. She sniffed it slightly, then took a bite of the crust. Crunch. Her eyes widened. The tension in her shoulders instantly dissolved. ”Delicious,” she murmured softly.

​Adul let out a soft laugh, rubbing his neck in relief. ”I was shaking too when I first joined this caravan.” Adul glanced toward Roland, who was busy questioning Charis on the opposite seat. ”But they’re actually good people. Just... well, a bit terrifying at times. Just relax.”

​Hearing that, a faint smile finally bloomed on Lira’s face. ”Thank you.”

​Charis—who had been peppered with questions by Roland—inadvertently glanced toward Eva, who sat huddled in the corner. ”Did you folks come from Sanctum?”

​Eva didn’t meet his gaze. Her eyes remained fixed on the window. ”We stopped there.”

​”I heard there was a massive riot there recently. The work of the Pagan Order. Rumor has it their hideout cell in that city was completely eradicated.”

​Eva’s fingers clenched the hem of her dress again, concealing the trembling in her knees. Her jaw tightened subtly.

​Naya swiftly cut into the conversation. ”We aren’t familiar with the details, young man. We are merely a merchant caravan that happened to pass through before the borders were sealed.”

​”Oh, I see.” Charis nodded in understanding and didn’t press further.

​After that, Eva remained mute. Naya didn’t ask anything either. She simply sat there, acting as a silent, comforting shield.

​Roland took back control of the conversation. ”By the way, what is your mana Circle rank at the academy?”

​”We are only Circle Three, sir.”

​”Hmm, Circle Three...” Roland stroked his chin, his tone hovering between curiosity and a hint of condescension—a classic tactic to bait the speaker’s ego into chattering more. ”So, what’s so special about Circle Three?”

​Charis let out a resigned sigh. ”Nothing special, sir. A Circle Three’s mana capacity is only enough to cast basic elemental spells. We run out of energy quickly.”

​Rianor—who had been buried behind the pages of his book—suddenly looked up. ”The efficiency of magic is not solely determined by a high rank. It is determined by the precision of your mana control.” His voice was heavy, calm, commanding everyone’s attention. ”A Circle Three who has mastered absolute control can be far more lethal than a Circle Five mage who channels their mana in a wasteful, emotional surge.”

​Charis stared at Rianor, his eyes sparkling with admiration. ”Sir... do you know a lot about magic theory?”

​”Just some light reading.” Rianor tapped the cover of his book. ”But from your aura, you aren’t a mage, are you?”

​Rianor met the boy’s gaze. ”I have mana within my body. I simply choose not to use it.”

​The answer was far too anomalous. Charis opened his mouth to dig deeper, but Roland clapped a hand heavily onto his shoulder. ”Now, the important question: how much longer until we reach the Capital?”

​”A-ah! Less than half a day, My Lord.”

​Roland leaned back, tilting his head slightly toward Rianor. His voice dropped to a low murmur that only his brother could catch. ”Their leader is Circle Eight. That is no joke.”

​”I know,” Rianor replied without turning.

​”Could be a massive roadblock for us later.”

​Rianor turned a page in his book with a soft rustle. ”Or she could be the key to the solution.”

​Roland didn’t counter, but his mind quickly filed that information away.

​On the opposite seat, Lira slowly withdrew a loaf of whole wheat bread from her rucksack. Her eyes had been stealing glances toward the front, peering through the small window that faced Dom’s broad, solid back. The man hadn’t opened his mouth once since the fireball incident. Even when his life was nearly scorched, he had only thrown a single, flat sentence. Lira swallowed hard. With slow steps, the girl stood up and walked hesitantly toward the driver’s partition. She looked exactly like a white rabbit walking into a wolf’s den.

​”H-here...” Lira squeaked, offering the bread through the window slit. ”An extra apology from me, sir.”

​Dom slowly turned his head from the road. His eyes stared at the loaf of bread in the small, trembling hand. Then he looked at Lira’s face. A tense silence blanketed the front of the carriage.

​Then, Dom’s massive hand reached out. He took the bread, taking a single, solid bite with his powerful jaw. Crunch. No thank you. No smile. He returned his gaze to the road.

​Inside, Adul nearly choked on his pastry. Naya raised an eyebrow high. Even Rianor paused turning his page for three full seconds.

​Lira hurried back to her seat, her face flushed red, but her lips curled into a small, triumphant smile.

​Two hours passed. The shadows of the pine trees gradually receded, replaced by vast expanses of yellowing wheat fields and stone cottages in the distance. The dirt trail gave way to a wide, brick-paved highway that was beginning to swell with traffic. Processions of pilgrims, merchant caravans, and horse-drawn carriages crossed paths continuously.

​Roland, who never ran out of conversation topics, cast another hook. ”Earlier, you mentioned the Holy Maiden. Who exactly is she?”

​Charis narrowed his eyes. ”My Lord... don’t tell me you aren’t a native of this kingdom?”

​Roland let out a crisp laugh. ”Indeed we aren’t. We are travelers from Eastmarch, in the Kingdom of Aethelgard across the sea. Just simple merchants looking for a fortune.”

​”No wonder you didn’t know.” Charis nodded, fully convinced. ”The Holy Maiden... she is the human existence closest to the ears of the Goddess.”

​”She is absolutely magnificent!” Lira suddenly chimed in with enthusiasm, her fear having evaporated. Her eyes sparkled with devotion. ”She is so powerful, graceful, and... so beautiful!” The girl clasped her hands to her chest, visualizing her idol.

​Roland glanced at Charis, raising an eyebrow. ”Your friend seems to be quite the fan.”

​”Always is when she’s mentioned.” Charis let out an exhausted sigh, much like an older brother. ”But Lira isn’t exaggerating. She is the pillar of the Kingdom of Luminara. At the southern borders, the demonic armies have begun to rouse from their long slumber. If the Holy Maiden were not here to serve as the anchor, no one would be able to withstand the Demon King’s onslaught on the human world.”

​Rianor’s jaw suddenly tightened. His eyes narrowed sharply in response to that single word. Demons. Roland shot a covert glance from the corner of his eye. The two brothers exchanged a silent frequency without a word. Rianor remained mute, but his body language spoke volumes to Roland. His brother knew something about those demons. Something highly critical, yet impossible to leak in front of these two naive students.

​Roland smoothly looked back at Charis, wearing the awestruck expression of a tourist. ”Wow, remarkable that she can hold back a demonic army on her own.”

​”Oh, certainly not alone, My Lord! Under her direct command are the seven Sanctum Leaders—each heading their respective orders at Circle Seven rank. And for the Holy Maiden herself... she sits at the apex, at Circle Eight.”

​”Circle Eight...” Roland whistled long in admiration. ”That’s practically a monster.”

​”She is the highest hierarchy in all of Luminara. No human can rival her.”

​Roland continued to let the conversation flow naturally. They spoke of the academy routines, the difficulty of the practical exams to reach Circle Four, down to the strict curfew regulations in the Capital, which were far more suffocating than those of the outlying towns. Roland scraped up every shred of intelligence without appearing to dig. Beside him, Rianor occasionally tossed in technical questions regarding mana circuit management. Lira occasionally blushed and chimed in whenever the topic returned to the Holy Maiden’s grandeur. Meanwhile, Eva absorbed all the information in absolute silence.

​Eventually, the sky shifted into hues of orange and deep purple.

​Their carriage emerged fully from the dense border forest.

​Before them, a masterpiece of civilization stood proudly against the sky. The Capital of Luminara.

​A defensive wall of white alabaster soared arrogantly, reflecting the crimson glow of the evening sun. Its main northern gate was massive, carved with a relief of the seven-rayed sun that far surpassed the grandeur of any city gate they had ever encountered. Yet, what stole their breath was not the wall, but the three monolithic structures dominating the city’s skyline behind it.

​”The first one is the Grand Cathedral,” Charis pointed out with pride.

​It was a colossal structure with a dome plated in pure gold and bell towers soaring as if to pierce the clouds. Hundreds of enormous stained-glass windows fractured the twilight, casting rainbows across the cathedral’s walls. At its apex, the seven-rayed sun emblem glowed continuously—not a mere reflection of gold, but an eternal magical luminescence that captivated the eyes.

​”And over there is our Luminous Academy.” Lira pointed enthusiastically.

​Two remarkably tall twin towers stood solidly side by side. The peaks of both towers were connected by a curved stone bridge whose architectural design seemed to defy gravity itself. From behind the narrow window slits of the towers, flashes of colorful lights blinked in succession like giant fireflies.

​”And the last one...” Charis’s voice dropped slightly, pointing to the third, jarring structure. ”That is the Magniora Tower.”

​Amidst the sea of white alabaster and gold, this building was a stark anomaly. A colossal cylindrical tower of pitch-black volcanic stone. It stood isolated in the corner of the city, without a single window adorning its bleak walls. It was merely a dark pillar absorbing the surrounding light.

​”It is where the Arcanum Master gather for emergency councils,” Charis whispered, as if fearing the walls had ears. ”Rumor has it the tower houses a subterranean labyrinth of dungeons so vast, it can swallow thousands of people at once, never to be seen again.”

​Roland gently rubbed his chin, concealing a thin smirk. ”Quite... intimidating.”

​”The Capital is the heartbeat of Luminara, My Lord. In there, you will witness miracles—as well as horrors—that you cannot find anywhere else in the world.”

​The carriage’s creak began to slow. They drew closer to the long queue at the city gates. White-armored guards with glowing spears were strictly inspecting every carriage and pilgrim seeking entry.