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

A thin mist hung low over the Sea of Mist. The pale dawn slowly broke across the eastern horizon.

The agonizing hail from the night before had finally ceased. Yet, the air on the open port still felt as cold as ice. The sharp scent of sea salt now mixed heavily with the foul stench of black sap—the remnants of the Kraken’s rampage against the hull.

Captain Thorne stood at the edge of the upper deck.

Sip.

He took a sip of bitter black tea from his steaming iron mug. The veteran’s eyes stared blankly at the post-battle stage below him.

The NRS Orion had indeed escaped death. However, the remnants of destruction were displayed plain as day.

Infantrymen and crew members moved efficiently without saying much. Scrape... scrape. They cleared away splintered wooden planks, washed off the slick black slime, and tried to shift the severely warped remains of the iron railing.

At the stern, two 120mm mana-cannons were completely jammed. Technicians crowded around, dismantling firing mechanisms that had been flooded with seawater.

Along the port side hull, the ship’s thick steel was deeply dented. A permanent reminder of the ocean lord’s crushing grip.

A young officer stepped closer, carrying a clipboard. He gave a stiff salute. ”Damage and medical report, Captain.”

Thorne didn’t tear his gaze away from the sea. ”Read it.”

”Thirteen soldiers wounded. Four broken ribs and arms from being thrown by the impact. Zero fatalities, Sir.” The officer’s voice carried a hidden sigh of relief.

Thorne squeezed his iron mug tight. He let the warmth of the metal seep into his palm.

”This ship is badly wounded...” Thorne whispered, staring at the slightly tilted mainmast. ”...but she’s still floating. That is enough.”

Down in the ship’s belly, the infirmary felt stifling.

The heavy stench of rubbing alcohol clashed with the bitter aroma of herbal salves. Folding cots were lined up tightly along the steel walls. Suppressed groans echoed occasionally.

Step... step...

Heavy footsteps echoed across the tiled floor.

Riven Sudrath stepped inside. The Grand General had taken off his Wolf mantle. He was only wearing a black military shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Even without his armor, his gigantic posture radiated absolute calm.

Several bedridden soldiers reflexively forced themselves to sit up.

”Stand down. Stay in your beds,” Riven cut in sharply. His low baritone swept across the room.

Riven walked down the aisle between the cots. He stopped at every bed, gently patting their shoulders, asking about their condition, and addressing them by their first names without hesitation.

The General’s steps halted at the end of the room, near a ventilation window.

Dalon, a young soldier, lay flat on his back. His left arm was wrapped in a wooden splint and thick bandages. Seeing Riven approach, the young man immediately looked away. He bit his lower lip hard.

Riven didn’t scold him. The man pulled up a small wooden chair beside the cot and sat down. Creeeak. The chair protested under his weight.

”I read the report,” Riven started deadpan. ”You were dragged by a tentacle to the edge of the railing. You nearly fell.”

”I-I...” Dalon choked up. His eyes reddened. ”I’m an amateur, General. I panicked during the first impact. Naya had to risk her life just to grab my collar. I... I was nothing but a burden last night.”

Riven stared straight into the young soldier’s eyes. Those gray irises held absolutely no judgment.

”You are still breathing today, Dalon. That is the point,” Riven said firmly. ”On this ship, nobody was born a hero. Everyone pisses their pants the first time they see a giant sea monster.”

Riven leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

”Listen. Falling on a slippery deck isn’t a weakness, Dalon...” Riven gently patted the young man’s shoulder. ”...true weakness is when you choose to stay on the ground, wallow in self-pity, and refuse to get back up.”

Dalon was stunned. The despair in his eyes slowly melted away. The young man returned Riven’s gaze, his jaw hardening with newfound resolve.

”Heal that arm,” Riven ordered as he stood up. Pat, pat. He tapped Dalon’s shoulder twice. ”We’re going to need your sword when we touch down on Iron Empire soil.”

On the dreary aft deck, the sea wind blew freezing cold.

Rumina Sudrath stood all alone. In front of her, the steel railing was severely warped, leaving a gaping void that revealed the black ocean. The exact spot where she had nearly lost her life last night.

She had changed out of her work gown. However, her black hair was left falling messily around her pale face. There was no precision bun.

Her slender fingers reached out tremblingly, stroking the dented steel surface.

Rumina’s heart raced. The memories of last night exploded back into her mind: the infrasonic shriek, the sharply tilting deck, the freezing aura that pierced her lungs.

Rumina squeezed her eyes shut.

Haaaaah...

She took a deep breath, swallowing the salty ocean air, then exhaled it slowly.

Her eyes opened. The trembling in her fingers stopped.

With deft movements, Rumina raised both hands. She swept up her messy strands of hair, pulled them to the back of her head, and tied them into an incredibly precise, tight bun.

”I am not just baggage,” Rumina whispered to the sea wind. Her voice was cold and steady.

The woman spun on her heels. Her steps no longer held any hesitation. Her destination was absolute: The navigation room.

At the very bow, Rianor Sudrath leaned weakly against the main mana-cannon.

The architect’s face was still as pale as a corpse. His glasses were crooked. Yet, he had forced himself out of the stuffy cabin. Whirrr... The mechanical arm of his Arcanotech Bracer hummed softly, stabilizing his heart rate.

Beside him, Selene stood gracefully like a statue. Her sea-blue robes fluttered gently in the wind.

”An extraordinary species,” Rianor muttered hoarsely. ”Its infrasonic resonance last night... was a purely territorial defense mechanism. Tsk, highly efficient.”

Selene glanced at the scientist from the corner of her eye. ”You always have a strange way of labeling disasters, Rianor. In your eyes, an ancient beast that nearly killed us is nothing more than ’biological data’?”

”Because data doesn’t possess destructive emotions, Selene,” Rianor replied, adjusting his glasses. ”That creature didn’t attack out of hatred for Northreach. It was responding to the mechanical vibrations of our engines invading its trench.”

Selene carved a thin smile, gazing out at the vast ocean.

”Perhaps your calculations are correct. But you forget, Rianor. This ocean breathes,” Selene murmured softly. ”The sea doesn’t need to be conquered by your machines. It just needs to be understood.”

Rianor didn’t argue back. The rational scientist and the Water Arcanum Master chose to enjoy the morning breeze in comfortable silence.

Inside the dimly lit navigation room...

Roland unrolled a topographical map across the wooden table.

Captain Thorne stood with his arms crossed opposite him. ”The two portside cannons need eight hours of repairs. If we get intercepted by an Iron Empire patrol while limping like this—”

”Which is exactly why we won’t let them fire the first shot,” Roland cut in quickly.

The diplomat’s gray eyes traced the coastline on the map. ”Historical truths, no matter how grand, are entirely useless if we sink before we even open our mouths, Captain.”

”Then what is your diplomatic plan, Lord Roland?”

”We raise a white flag from two nautical miles out,” Roland tapped the map with his index finger. ”We defend ourselves if attacked... but it is absolutely forbidden for our cannons to return fire first. We come bearing peace, not challenging them to a war.”

Thorne stared intently at the young diplomat. The veteran officer finally nodded.

”Understood. I’ll make sure this ship holds together long enough to give you your stage to speak.”

In the corner of the main deck, Borch sat leaning against a stack of ammunition crates.

The Ghost Squad Commander was busy polishing the long barrel of his Gauss Rifle with an oily rag. Sshk... sshk.

Naya stood leaning against a wooden pillar not far away, clearing the magnetic rails of her short-barreled Gauss Rifle of leftover slime.

”Did you sleep at all last night?” Naya asked without turning her head.

”No.” Borch kept wiping his rifle.

Naya snorted in amusement. ”You’re going to die standing on this deck if you refuse to shut your eyes, Borch. You’re not a god, you know.”

Borch stopped wiping. His sharp eyes glanced at Naya from beneath his military cap.

”Dying on my feet on the deck is far more honorable than dying with my throat slit during a night watch,” Borch replied deadpan. He went back to polishing his rifle, letting a comfortable silence blanket them both.

Step, step.

Roland stepped out onto the deck, approaching Rianor at the bow.

”Hmm... how is your stomach doing today, O Grand Architect?” Roland leaned against the railing, flashing his mocking smirk. ”Still want to hurl last night’s ginger?”

Rianor glared sharply. ”My digestive system has stabilized. And your big mouth is doing absolutely nothing to help my recovery, Roland.”

Roland let out a crisp laugh. He patted Rianor’s shoulder hard. ”Haha! Get used to it, brother. We’ve still got a long journey ahead.”

”There is still no certain probability that we will arrive alive,” Rianor shot back cynically.

”At least we’re past being targeted by monsters—”

Bzzzt... KRRRKK!

Roland’s optimistic remark was brutally cut short.

Inside the navigation room, the crystal radar screen suddenly flared brightly! The radar operator flinched in horror as he stared at the new glowing blips on the northern border.

”CAPTAIN THORNE!” the operator screamed, shattering the morning peace. ”New contacts on the radar!”

Thorne burst into the room, followed closely by Borch, Riven, and Roland. They surrounded the crystal table.

On that blue screen, three red dots of light manifested in a formation. In the very bottom corner of the screen, the Kraken’s sonar dot was still blinking faintly far to the south.

”Size?” Borch demanded coldly.

”Medium, Commander! Speed is slow and constant,” the operator reported with trembling hands. ”Too big for whales, too small for Dreadnoughts.”

”Local patrol?” Riven guessed, his voice strained.

Thorne shook his head, his jaw hardening. ”These aren’t neutral waters anymore, General. This grid point... we’ve entered the northern continent’s waters.”

The hair on the back of Roland’s neck stood up. Cold adrenaline injected into his veins.

”In that case...” Roland whispered sharply. ”...they’ve come to receive us.”

Woooosh...

Out on the deck, the sea wind howled, sweeping away the white curtain of mist that had been blanketing the horizon. The veil of nature slowly parted.

And at the edge of the dark sea line...

Three silhouettes of dark gray steel warships emerged through the fog. The muzzles of their black cannons were raised arrogantly, cutting through the waves straight toward the NRS Orion’s position.

The encounter that would determine the fate of the land and sea... had just begun.