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

Clack-clack... clack-clack...

The thick steel wheels of the Iron Empire’s military steam truck jolted violently as they crushed the sharp, gravelly dirt path. The hum of the engine and the acrid stench of sulfur sliced through the dreary silence of the borderlands.

Roland Sudrath leaned his shoulder against the vibrating steel wall of the truck bed.

His dark blue diplomatic robes were beginning to catch a thin coating of road dust, yet his posture remained impeccably upright. His gray eyes peered outside through the narrow gaps of the iron grates.

The lingering ache in his left shoulder throbbed with every rhythmic lurch of the vehicle, but Roland simply brushed it aside.

The view outside offered pure, unadulterated evidence of war’s destruction.

The black stone roads leading out from the capital had gradually given way to cracked, gouged earth. Along the roadside, steam transmission towers lay collapsed, their copper piping crudely severed. Charred remains of cargo transports sat as dull iron skeletons at the edges of cratered blast sites.

”Hmm... this sabotage pattern isn’t the work of an ordinary bandit group,” Roland murmured softly. ”Their movements are deliberate.”

Riven opened his gray eyes from the corner of the truck bed.

”The rebels cut the steam pipes right at the valve junction stations,” Riven added coldly. ”They crippled the power grid before ambushing the supply convoy. The guerilla leader behind this knows the Iron Empire’s logistical network inside out.”

Thorne nodded subtly while resting his fingers on his belt buckle.

”Which means we aren’t heading toward a skirmish against an enraged mob of civilians,” Thorne interjected. ”We’re stepping straight into an organized trap.”

In the rearmost corner, Yara sat curled up.

The young mechanic hugged her body tightly against the cold iron wall, clutching her mechanical toolbag like a shield. Her dark hair was tied up high, while her cheeks were smudged with leftover soot from the workshop.

Her breathing was anxious, yet her brown eyes didn’t betray any wild panic. As a street kid from the working district, fear was a daily staple.

Still, being stuck in the same truck bed with the most feared prisoners of war from the south... was an absurd reality her mind could barely digest.

Roland shifted his seat, sliding closer to Yara’s corner. The young diplomat offered a warm, disarming smile to melt the rising tension.

”How are you holding up, Yara?” Roland asked gently. ”Not motion sick, are you?”

Yara flinched slightly in surprise, then shook her head rapidly.

”I-I’m used to repairing engines at the dock workshops... but honestly, I’m not used to riding in elite military trucks like this, Master Roland.”

Roland chuckled softly.

”Just Roland. We’re all in the same truck bed, after all. Besides, technically we’re just a bunch of prisoners who happen to be out for a stroll.”

Yara stole a glance toward the other members of the delegation. Noticing her gaze, Roland effortlessly seized the moment.

”Across from you is Riven, my brother who wears that scowl on purpose,” Roland teased lightly.

Riven merely let out a curt grunt. Hmph.

”And over in the corner is Rumina, our Head Treasurer, who is currently calculating the exact price of every single speck of dust we pass,” Roland continued.

Rumina adjusted her glasses, throwing Roland a brief look before returning her gaze straight ahead.

”The elegant lady over there is Lady Selene of Luminara,” Roland added. ”And the man busy fussing with his arm... is Rianor, our machine-obsessed architect.”

Yara swallowed hard, her awkwardness slowly dissolving under their natural warmth.

Rianor Sudrath paid no mind to his younger brother’s teasing.

The Architect rolled up his gray sleeve and pressed a node on his circuit panel.

Whirrr... click!

The Adamantite circuits on his Arcanotech Bracer glowed with a faint blue light, projecting a precise three-dimensional topographic map of the Eastern Mountains right above his wrist.

Yara’s eyes widened at the floating blue light.

”T-That...” Yara pointed at the projection. ”Is that... the dark magic the palace always forbids?”

Rianor turned his gaze slowly from behind his spectacles.

”Tch. This is pure mechanical engineering,” Rianor cut in flatly. ”There is no dark magic here. This Bracer measures natural mana potential, then channels it through miniature crystal circuits to refract light.”

Yara blinked, processing his explanation in a split second.

”Potential differences in current...? So... the principle is similar to steam pressure conversion refracted through a manometer valve in our reactor engines?”

Rianor’s fingers froze over the Bracer.

The Architect raised his head, a faint glimmer of surprise flickering beneath his gray eyes. For a civilian completely unaccustomed to mana, this girl’s analytical comprehension was remarkably sharp.

”You understand the concept of pressure conversion?” Rianor asked, his tone softening ever so slightly.

Yara nodded, her confidence beginning to bloom.

”I’ve dismantled hundreds of steam pipe valves at the docks since I was twelve, Rianor. Steam power currents and the light energy currents you mentioned... fundamentally, they both need conductive circuits to keep from blowing up.”

Rianor stared at Yara for a brief moment.

”Your grasp of mechanics isn’t half bad for a civilian, Workshop Girl,” Rianor conceded flatly. He shifted his blue projection slightly toward her. ”Since you know the steam pipe routes at the foot of the mountain by heart... take a look at this. Where is the most vulnerable choke point for a rockslide?”

Yara leaned closer to the projection without a trace of fear left in her stance.

”In this western valley sector. The main steam transmission pipe is mounted directly onto the limestone cliff. If the rebels take down just one pillar there, three military outposts above will be instantly paralyzed without power.”

From her spot on the wooden bench, Rumina listened to the technical exchange in silence.

”How long would it take your mechanic team to repair a single collapsed pillar in that valley, Yara?” Rumina chimed in, cutting to the chase.

”With standard military equipment... at least twelve hours,” Yara replied. ”But if we use the backup bypass pipe hidden in the lower rock crevices... I could patch it together in under four hours.”

Rumina gave a slow, deliberate nod.

”Four hours of efficiency translates to a forty percent reduction in convoy fuel consumption,” Rumina muttered coldly.

Rumina then turned her gaze to Roland.

”Well, your decision to bring her along turned out to be a highly profitable logistical move, Roland. The girl isn’t a burden at all.”

Yara flushed subtly, feeling genuine validation from the governing family of the southern continent. She felt accepted, as though she truly belonged to the team.

Dusk melted into a freezing night.

The military convoy finally brought its steel wheels to a halt in a rocky depression sheltered from the mountain winds. A small campfire was kindled using coal briquettes.

The Northreach delegation and Yara sat gathered around the fire. Riven and Thorne stood alert in the dark shadows of the perimeter, while Selene sat motionless, gazing up at the heavy, cloud-choked night sky.

Yara warmed her palms over the flickering glow, watching Roland sip water from a tin cup.

”Master Roland...” Yara called out softly.

”Just Roland, Yara.”

”Why are all of you so calm?” Yara asked innocently. ”You’re in enemy territory surrounded by people who hate you. You just walked out of detention cells, and now you’re heading straight into a warzone against wild monsters... yet none of you seem to panic.”

Roland looked at the dancing flames, a faint smile gracing his features.

”It’s not because we aren’t afraid, Yara,” Roland whispered gently. ”We’re just used to it.”

Yara frowned, puzzled. ”Used to it?”

”Used to standing on the razor-thin line between life and death,” Roland explained. ”In Northreach, we were raised by ice storms and the constant threat of war. We learned that fear won’t solve a crisis or fix a broken pipe. Only rational action and courage can bring us home.”

Selene turned her head from her perch on a stone, looking at Yara with comforting, pale blue eyes.

”And tonight, Yara... you proved you possess that very same courage the moment you chose to step out of your workshop.”

Yara looked at the people gathered around the campfire, one by one. In the dead of a freezing night at the foot of an enemy mountain, she had somehow found genuine human warmth from those her country had labeled as demons her entire life.

A pale dawn broke over the eastern horizon.

The military convoy resumed its climb, navigating steep, treacherous limestone cliffs. Until finally, past the sharp turn of a rocky crag... their destination revealed itself.

The Eastern Mountain Forward Outpost.

The sight before their eyes was tragic. The outpost’s fort was half-destroyed. Steel perimeter fences lay crushed and flattened, while the main watchtower tilted at a dangerous angle.

Around the courtyard, a dozen Iron Empire soldiers sat slumped against the walls, their bodies wounded and wrapped in filthy bandages.

A gaunt outpost commander with a blood-stained bandage wrapped around his head limped forward to greet the convoy. His eyes burned with intense suspicion as he watched the Northreach delegation step down from the truck.

Roland set foot on the outpost’s rocky soil, sweeping his gaze across the area.

Suddenly, from behind the high cliff ridge to the east of the outpost... an alien shockwave of sound echoed through the thick mist.

WHOOOOSH...!!

It was no ordinary mountain wind. It was a piercing roar born from the flap of colossal wings cutting through the air, interwoven with the terrifying hiss of airborne toxins vibrating behind the rocks.

The soldiers at the outpost instantly panicked, snatching up their steam rifles with trembling hands.

Roland, Riven, Rianor, and Selene immediately closed ranks, dropping into absolute battle readiness.

The threat from beyond the Eastern Mountains had arrived, and true battle was finally knocking at their door.