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

​The sun had barely peeked over the eastern horizon when Lobrecht and Anneliese stood in silence.

​Before them sat the sole surviving beacon of life from a village reduced to ash. Pastor Aldus.

​The man leaned weakly against the charred, blackened wall of the chapel. His back was bound in thick bandages that already wept crimson. Every time he drew a breath, a sharp, agonizing wheeze escaped his chest.

​Hss... hah... Yet, the pastor’s light brown eyes—which usually crinkled with a playful smirk over their breakfast potatoes—now radiated a vastly different depth.

​”So... the two of you have truly made up your minds to head to the Capital,” Aldus spoke softly, his voice raspy, grating against the soot in his throat. It wasn’t a question. It was a quiet confirmation of a premonition he had harbored since that hellish night.

​Anneliese gave a firm, resolute nod. Both her hands clenched into tight fists against the fabric of her dirty dress. ”We’re going to enroll in the Luminous Academy. We want to become stronger, Pastor. So that... so that something as insane as yesterday never happens again.”

​Aldus carved a thin, fragile smile that exposed his bloody teeth. ”You are already strong, Anneliese. What you showed those demons last night... was no miracle an amateur mage could conjure.”

​”I want to be even stronger!” Anneliese cut in, her voice spiking slightly as she fought back her sobs. ”I’m going to prove myself and become the Holy Maiden! I want to protect everyone. I... I don’t ever want to see another child... another...”

​The girl’s voice hitched. Her throat felt as if it were choked by stone. The tragic image of Biscotta and Torta dying in a final, tight embrace beneath the ruins replayed mercilessly behind her eyelids.

​Lobrecht stepped forward half a pace, resting his palm gently on her shoulder. Pat. A brief, silent touch, yet its quiet magic was enough to soothe her trembling form.

​Lobrecht then locked his gaze with Pastor Aldus. ”We are leaving, Pastor.”

​Aldus stared back at the quiet young man for a very long time. It was as if, from the fading embers of his own life, he could peer into the turbulent vortex of destiny slumbering within Lobrecht’s soul—something Lobrecht himself had yet to comprehend.

​”Lobrecht,” Aldus called out, his voice incredibly soft. ”Do you know why you didn’t shed a single tear last night?”

​Lobrecht remained silent. His eyes were as flat as a frozen lake.

​”Because by nature, you are not the kind of man born to mourn ruin.” Aldus offered a bitter smile. ”You are the type who will stack the bricks and raise a new order from the ashes of death. It is a gift, my boy. But at the same time... it is a crushing curse. Please, never forget that.”

​Lobrecht slowly lowered his gaze. ”I will never forget, Pastor.”

​Aldus let out a long sigh, and then forced his violently trembling right hand to rise.

​”I cannot accompany you on your path,” the pastor whispered. ”But believe me... I will continue to pray for you. With every breath I draw. Until you both successfully stand atop the peak you dream of.”

​The rough, scarred hand landed gently on Lobrecht’s head, and then on Anneliese’s. The pastor murmured a brief blessing in an ancient tongue—the exact same prayer he had taught them every single morning over their dining table.

​”Go. And wherever your feet may wander... never forget who you truly are.”

​Anneliese’s defenses finally crumbled. The girl wept bitterly, letting her tears soak the pastor’s lap. Lobrecht, meanwhile, bowed his body deeply—the only physical language he possessed to translate a gratitude that would never fit into mere words.

​The two of them turned on their heels. They walked away without looking back.

​Away from the ash-laden ruins of their village. Away from a childhood that had been brutally slaughtered. Ahead of them, the dirt road toward the Capital stretched out into the infinite.

​No one knew what heaven or hell awaited them at the end of that road. But one thing was absolute: they would brave it together.

​The Capital of Luminara.

​Even in their wildest daydreams, Lobrecht and Anneliese had never been able to visualize a city this magnificent.

​The Grand Cathedral, with its dome of pure gold, stood arrogantly reflecting the blinding sun. The Magniora Tower loomed sturdily, its pillars of pitch-black obsidian absorbing the surrounding light. And the Luminous Academy stood as a grand monument, its twin towers serving as the absolute icon of knowledge across the continent.

​And amidst this intimidating grandeur stood two orphans from a scorched, nameless village. Their clothes were tattered and dusty, their boots worn thin, carrying nothing but meager travel packs. Among the bustling, elegant nobles of the Capital, they were nothing more than two dirty grains of sand that had accidentally wandered into a marble palace.

​Hundreds of eyes watched them, casting looks of sheer, cutting condescension.

​But the moment the aptitude tests began... every single mocking voice was instantly silenced.

​Anneliese stepped confidently into the center of the hall, placing both her palms onto a colossal mana-measuring crystal.

​VWUUUM!

​The crystal flared violently. It didn’t just glow; it detonated, releasing an absolute, blinding white light! The holy radiance flooded every corner of the grand hall, forcing the senior Arcanum Masters sitting on the high tribunal to reflexively shield their eyes from the glare.

​”Pure Light...” one of the senior examiners whispered, his lips trembling in disbelief. ”The density of her mana... good gods, it’s already touching the threshold of the Fifth Circle! And she’s barely a teenager?!”

​Then came Lobrecht’s turn.

​The flat-faced youth placed his hand on the crystal. Strangely, the artifact didn’t emit a single ray of elemental light. Instead... the core of the crystal before him faded into a dead, hollow dark.

​Swoosh...

​Shadows from the far corners of the hall suddenly seemed to stretch to life. They crawled slowly across the marble floor, converging toward Lobrecht’s boots, as if pulled by a gravitational darkness that defied all human logic.

​”Eh? W-What’s happening to the crystal? Is it broken?” one of the examiners asked, starting to panic.

​The Light Arcanum Master of that era—an elderly man draped in robes of pure gold—slowly rose from his throne. His weathered eyes narrowed, studying Lobrecht with an unnatural intensity.

​”The crystal is not defective,” the Light Master’s voice echoed through the hall. ”This boy... possesses the Shadow Attribute.”

​The hall erupted into a frenzy of frantic whispers. The Shadow Attribute? Such an element had never been heard of. It wasn’t recorded in any curriculum textbook. It existed nowhere in the formal scriptures of the Church. It was a mutation. An absolute anomaly.

​Within less than an hour, the two nameless village children officially became the highly-contested assets of the high hierarchy.

​The Fire Arcanum Master promised limitless research facilities. The Earth Master baited them with elite combat command positions. Even the Lightning Master—typically arrogant and dismissive of recruits—stepped in to make an offer.

​But Anneliese had already made up her mind. ”Thank you, but I only wish to enter the Light Arcanum.”

​Lobrecht, true to his quiet nature, merely offered a slow nod. ”I will follow wherever she goes.”

​The years that followed whipped by like a raging tempest.

​Their lives became an endless cycle of covert missions, brutal training that pushed them to vomit blood, and life-or-death battles.

​They fought side by side, slaughtering anomalous monsters. They dismantled bandit syndicates terrorizing the eastern trade routes. They held back the low-tier demons that occasionally leaked through spatial Gates.

​Anneliese bedazzled the battlefield with her holy magic that incinerated the darkness, while Lobrecht quietly executed targets from the shadows behind her back, using cold, lethal shadow tendrils.

​Their reputation soared. ”The Duo of Light and Shadow,” the people of Luminara took to calling them.

​Anneliese successfully transformed into the darling of the public—a charismatic, beautiful, young prodigy who always offered a warm smile. On the other hand, Lobrecht became a figure shrouded in eternal mystery—a silent, handsome youth who never smiled, yet whose presence was a guarantee of absolute safety.

​And even though their status had reached stratospheric heights... in the brief interludes between their missions, the two of them always made sure to boil cheap potatoes and eat them together. A small, sacred tradition to anchor the memories of a dusty village they would never allow themselves to forget.

​The coronation ceremony of Anneliese as the new Light Arcanum Master was one of the grandest celebrations in the historical epos of the Church.

​The grand audience hall of the Magniora Tower was packed with a sea of humanity. The entire lineup of Arcanum Masters was present. Every elder Archbishop stood in formation. Every military official of the Church held their breath.

​Anneliese knelt gracefully before the holy altar. Her pristine white ceremonial robes trailed along the floor, her silver hair shimmering as it caught the light of the massive chandeliers.

​The Grand Hierophant—the elderly, supreme leader of Luminara’s entire order—raised a holy crown, resting it slowly upon her head.

​”By the sacred authority vested in me by the Goddess... I hereby declare you, Anneliese, as the new Master of the Light Arcanum.”

​The applause roared thunderously, nearly bringing down the roof of Magniora.

​Anneliese stood, turning to face the congregation. But her pale blue eyes quickly swept the elite crowd... searching for the only person who truly mattered to her.

​In a dimly lit corner of the hall, Lobrecht stood leaning against a pillar. As usual, his face was flat, completely devoid of a wide grin. But Anneliese could read him flawlessly—from the way he met her gaze, from the slow, microscopic nod he offered—she knew he was immensely proud of her. Beyond measure.

​A few months after her coronation, Lobrecht’s name was called for a private audience.

​”What I am about to grant you is a precedent that has never occurred in the long history of the Church,” the Grand Hierophant spoke, sitting with crossed arms atop his throne. ”Your elemental attribute is extraordinarily unique. Not a single knight on this continent possesses it. You are a pure anomaly, Lobrecht. And an anomaly of your caliber... is far too valuable to waste.”

​Lobrecht stood tall, staring at the supreme leader. ”What is the direction of this conversation, Your Eminence?”

​”I have decided to restructure our forces and establish a brand-new Arcanum faction. The Shadow Arcanum.” The Grand Hierophant leaned his frail body forward, his eyes glinting with raw ambition. ”And I am appointing you... as its very first Master.”

​Lobrecht stood frozen.

​It was an extraordinary honor that had never even crossed his mind. But his pragmatic brain immediately saw the massive potential.

​Two and a half years.

​It took only that brief stretch of time for Lobrecht to realize he had been dead wrong. Utterly, tragically wrong.

​The luxurious chair of an Arcanum Master granted him absolutely no freedom to do what was right. In fact, it was the exact opposite—the elite title merely forced him to sit in the front row, watching in real-time how rotten and decayed the very hierarchy he worshipped truly was.

​From behind his council table, he witnessed with his own eyes how the elderly Archbishops hoarded marble treasures and feasted on fine wine, while the citizens on the city’s fringes starved to death.

​He was a firsthand witness to how the Ash Tribe—aura-wielding warriors who were actually loyal defenders of humanity—were trampled, violently exiled, and slaughtered for one sickening reason: ”They were not blessed with magic by the Goddess.”

​Worse still, he repeatedly received secret scroll orders from the Grand Hierophant to act as his shadow executioner. Ordered to silence the mouths of independent thinkers who dared criticize the dogma. Ordered to incinerate remote villages branded as ”deviating from the holy path.”

​Lobrecht refused. Time and time again. And every time he tore up a scroll order, the label of ’rebel’ on his forehead was drawn thicker by the Church elites.

​”The Goddess would never sanction such atrocities,” Lobrecht murmured one night.

​The young man stood alone on the balcony of the Magniora Tower. The cold night wind whipped his cloak. ”This is no longer about defending faith. This order... has transformed into a prison.”

​”You... you’ve made up your mind to leave.”

​The statement wasn’t a question. At the threshold of the balcony’s glass doors, Anneliese stood motionless. The night breeze blew through her silver hair as she stared at Lobrecht’s broad, silent back.

​Lobrecht didn’t bother to turn. ”You already know exactly why I have to go, Anne.”

​”But you can stay here with me, Lobrecht! We can fix this system from the inside! Slowly. Step-by-step. Together!” Anneliese’s voice began to tremble. Her hands wrung the fabric of her gown. ”I... I have already lost every family member I ever loved in this world. I’m begging you... don’t make me lose you too.”

​Hearing the desperate plea in her voice, Lobrecht’s defenses faltered. He slowly turned around.

​His face—as usual—was extraordinarily calm. But Anneliese was no stranger. She could see past the mask... and beneath it, there lay a gaping wound that was no shallower than her own.

​”Anne. Think about it carefully.” Lobrecht stared straight into the girl’s eyes. ”What the Church does to the Ash Tribe... to the impoverished villages who refuse to be oppressed... to the brilliant minds who dare to think critically... can you truly lie to your own conscience and believe the Goddess blesses all this depravity?”

​Anneliese opened her mouth, searching for a defense. But her vocal cords had shut down. Not a single word came out.

​”I don’t blame you at all,” Lobrecht continued, his voice softening, drifting on the night wind. ”I know you still believe in the foundational teachings of the Church. I know you still think that all this... through whatever logic... is the righteous path. But my mind can no longer digest it, Anne. I tried to close my eyes for two years. And I am utterly, thoroughly sick of it.”

​Anneliese lowered her head. Her shoulders trembled gently. ”I... I can’t run away and defect with you, Lobrecht,” she whispered painfully. ”I... I still believe in the sacred values of this Church. I believe this is the right path. I cannot abandon my duty.”

​Lobrecht merely offered a slow nod. Deep down, his logical mind had already predicted this answer months ago.

​”Yes. I know.”

​Lobrecht took a step closer, closing the distance between them. And for the very first time since they had grown into a man and a woman... Lobrecht reached out his right hand. His rough fingers gently brushed Anneliese’s cheek. He caressed it with absolute, heartbreaking tenderness.

​”One day, you will surely be crowned on the highest throne as the Holy Maiden, Anne. I’m certain of it,” Lobrecht spoke, carving a final, parting smile. ”And when that day comes... I only hope you never forget the reason why the two of us first started fighting from the absolute bottom.”

​He slowly withdrew his hand. His warmth faded away. Lobrecht turned, preparing to step into the dark of the night.

​”Lobrecht.”

​The call halted the steps of the Shadow Arcanum Master. But he did not turn back.

​”I... I promise I will always pray for your safety. With every breath I draw. Every single day.”

​The corners of Lobrecht’s mouth lifted slightly higher—the most genuine smile he had carved since the night of the massacre in their village.

​Flicker. The next second, the young man’s physical form melted seamlessly into the pitch-black shadow on the balcony floor, vanishing without a trace. Gone from her life.

​Anneliese stood alone on the cold stone balcony, staring at the empty space where the man had stood just a second ago. Both her hands clenched so tightly at her sides that her nails dug painfully into her palms.

​The tears she had fought so desperately to hold back finally spilled over, completely unchecked. They cascaded down, washing her cheeks. Yet, with a swift, harsh motion, she wiped the tears away with the back of her hand.

​She was the revered Master of the Light Arcanum. She was not permitted to weep.

​But just for tonight, on the balcony of Magniora... Anneliese allowed herself to cry bitterly, one last time.

​She wept for Lobrecht’s departure. She wept for the sweet memories of their village. And she wept for the absolute death of her youth... an innocence she would never be able to reclaim.