Reborn as a Hated Noble Family, We Start an Industrial Revolution-Chapter 61: The General’s Back

Northern Marsh Forest – Red Zone. 23:00 PM.

Ankle-deep mud that felt like a cold, hungry mouth, thumb-sized mosquitoes that buzzed with a menacing vibration, and an all-encompassing stench of rotten eggs—the unmistakable signature of sulfur.

This was far from the ideal setting for a second date.

But this was where General Riven Sudrath and Doctor Elena found themselves. They weren’t under the warm, yellow glow of the capital’s streetlights or sitting on the comfortable benches of a night market. Instead, they were wading through the primeval darkness of the Black Marsh, where the only light came from the dim, flickering mana-crystals mounted on their gear.

"Doctor, fall back. Stay at least three paces behind me," Riven whispered, his voice barely audible over the sloshing of the mud.

He walked point, his massive frame cutting a path through the tangled mangrove roots. In his hands, he gripped a short-barreled Magitech Shotgun, its obsidian finish cold and slick. His eyes, sharpened by years of night raids, scanned the shifting shadows between the gnarled trees. Every rustle of a leaf, every ripple in the stagnant water was a potential death sentence.

"I have to stay close, Riven," Elena countered stubbornly. Her voice was strained, her breathing heavy as she struggled to keep her footing. Her once-pristine medical coat was now a canvas of grey mud and swamp grime. She tightened the straps of her heavy medical bag, which clattered with the sound of glass vials. "The Basilisk’s venom gland must be harvested within exactly three minutes after the heart stops. If we wait a second longer, the toxin oxidizes, turns inert, and the serum will be a total failure. I won’t let us come all this way for nothing."

Riven grumbled under his breath, a low vibration in his chest. "Why couldn’t you just teach Garrick the procedure? He’s good with a knife."

"This requires neurosurgical precision, not field butchery," Elena replied sharply, adjusting her goggles which were beginning to fog up in the humid air.

They moved in a tight diamond formation. Riven was the spearhead, two elite Iron Mercs flanked the sides with rifles leveled, and Elena was tucked into the protected center.

The forest suddenly went silent. It was a heavy, unnatural stillness. The incessant chirping of crickets and the croaking of marsh frogs cut off as if a conductor had signaled for silence.

KRESEK.

Riven’s ears twitched. A faint sound of scales brushing against damp bark came from above.

"Two o’clock! Three targets! They’re moving fast through the canopy!" Riven barked. "FLASHLIGHTS ON!"

The soldiers clicked their rifle-mounted searchlights into life.

Beams of high-intensity white light sliced through the oppressive gloom, illuminating the thick, twisted branches of a massive mangrove tree directly ahead. The light revealed three nightmare shapes coiled like springs among the foliage.

Swamp Basilisks.

They were hideous hybrids of prehistoric terror. Their bodies were thick and muscular like giant pythons, but they possessed six powerful, clawed legs like a monitor lizard’s. Their heads were capped with a fleshy, blood-red crest, and their eyes—vibrant, sickly yellow—glowed with a predatory intelligence that sent a shiver down the soldiers’ spines.

HISSSSSS!

The lead Basilisk unhinged its jaw. Instead of a roar or a jet of fire, it exhaled a thick, roiling cloud of charcoal-grey mist.

Petrifying Breath.

"GET DOWN!" Riven didn’t wait for a reaction. He slammed his hand onto the back of Elena’s head, forcing her downward and burying her face unceremoniously into the cold mud.

The grey mist swept over them like a ghost’s veil. A massive tree trunk caught in the direct path of the breath instantly changed color, turning from a vibrant brown to a dull, stony grey.

KRAK! The branches, now literal solid stone, became too heavy for the tree to support. They snapped and crashed into the marsh with a deafening, metallic thud.

"FIRE!" Riven roared.

DOR! DOR! DOR!

The thunderous bark of Magitech rifles shattered the night’s silence. The Adamantite-tipped rounds, designed to pierce the toughest of hides, tore into the Basilisks’ scales. Two of the creatures tumbled from the branches, hissing in agony as their dark blood splattered into the water.

But the third Basilisk—the Alpha, nearly twice the size of the others—did not die. It lunged downward with the speed of a falling spear, ignoring the bullets that grazed its armored back. Its target wasn’t Riven, who radiated a dangerous, spiked aura. Its primal instinct drove it toward the weakest presence, the one that smelled of "prey" and "softness."

Elena.

Elena had just managed to lift her head from the mud. Her goggles were tilted, her vision a blurry mess of shadows and light. Through the haze, she saw a massive, scaly shadow hurtling toward her. The creature’s mouth was a cavern of needles, its fangs dripping with a luminous green ichor that sizzled as it touched the air.

"ELENA!"

Elena froze. The world slowed down to a crawl. Her medical training told her she was already dead. The distance was too short, her reflexes too slow. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact, the cold bite of the fangs, and the final darkness.

But the pain never came.

JLEB!

BUGH!

Elena forced her eyes open.

The sight before her made her heart stop. The entire world was suddenly obscured by a vast, solid wall of muscle.

It was a back.

A back so broad, so immovable, and so familiar. It was Riven’s back, clad in a tactical leather vest that was now shredded.

Riven hadn’t had time to reload. He hadn’t had time to dodge. In that split second, he had done the only thing he could—he had thrown himself in front of the monster.

The Alpha Basilisk’s fangs were buried deep into Riven’s left shoulder. The needle-sharp teeth had punched through the reinforced leather and deep into the General’s trapezius muscle. Thick, crimson blood surged from the wound, soaking Riven’s shirt and dripping onto the mud below.

Yet, Riven did not scream. He didn’t even flinch. His legs were planted firmly in the marsh like the pillars of a fortress.

"How dare you..." Riven growled. His voice was low, vibrating with a tectonic fury that seemed to make the very ground tremble.

Riven’s right hand, a claw of iron and callus, reached up and gripped the Basilisk’s neck while it was still latched onto his shoulder. His arm muscles bulged, veins standing out like whipcords, glowing faintly with the residue of his orange aura.

"...Touch her?"

KRAK!

With a single, brutal exertion of strength, Riven snapped the neck of the crocodile-sized monster.

The Basilisk convulsed for a second, its grip on his shoulder loosening as the life vanished from its yellow eyes. Riven tore the creature away and hurled its massive carcass to the side as if he were discarding a bag of trash.

In the distance, the sounds of Garrick finishing off the other two creatures faded into the background.

A heavy silence returned to the marsh, broken only by Riven’s ragged, labored breathing. Blood continued to pour from the punctures in his shoulder. Tes... Tes... Tes... it hit the black water with a rhythmic, sickening splash.

"Riven..." Elena’s voice was a broken whisper. She scrambled to her feet, her knees nearly buckling under her.

Riven turned around slowly. His face was a shade paler than usual, sweat matting his hair to his forehead. Despite the agonizing wound, he forced a wide, lopsided grin—the kind of grin that looked like it cost him every ounce of his willpower.

"Doc... we’ve still got two minutes and thirty seconds, right? Better get the gland. Before it goes... stale."

Elena didn’t answer. She didn’t move toward the monster’s carcass. Instead, she lunged toward Riven, her eyes welling with tears that cut paths through the mud on her face.

"You idiot! You absolute, suicidal lunatic!" Elena cried out, her voice bordering on hysterical.

She reached up, her hands frantic as she tore the remains of his shirt away to inspect the damage. The bite was deep—dangerously so. The green neurotoxin was already beginning to react with his blood, causing the skin around the wound to hiss and turn a faint, sickly grey.

"This is a concentrated neurotoxin, Riven! If it reaches your heart, you’ll be paralyzed in minutes! Your lungs will stop!" Her hands shook violently as she fumbled for an emergency antivenom vial and a scalpel.

"Hey, hey... calm down, El," Riven said, reaching out with his good hand to catch her trembling wrist.

"How can I be calm?! You used yourself as a meat-shield for me!"

Riven looked deep into Elena’s eyes, his gaze losing its predatory edge and softening into something more vulnerable.

"Elena, listen."

"This wound... it’s just meat. I’ve survived worse in the trenches. It’ll heal in three days. I’ve got the hide of a rhino," Riven chuckled, though the sound ended in a wince. "But if you had been bitten... who would save the village? Who would find the cure?"

He paused, a faint, mischievous glint returning to his eyes.

"And besides... who would be around to yell at me for eating fried innards?"

Elena froze. Her sob hitched in her throat.

She looked at the man in front of her. For weeks, she had seen him as a difficult patient, a boisterous general, or a clumsy date. But tonight, she saw Riven for what he truly was.

He was a Wall.

He was a man who would gladly let himself be broken into pieces, as long as the people behind him remained whole. That broad back of his wasn’t just muscle; it was the safest place in the entire world.

Elena wiped her eyes aggressively with her sleeve, her "Doctor Mode" clicking back into place.

"Sit. Now."

Riven obeyed without a word, sliding down onto a fallen, moss-covered log.

Elena worked with the speed and precision of a woman possessed. She injected the antivenom directly into the surrounding tissue, cleaned the jagged punctures with a stinging antiseptic—which made Riven hiss through his teeth—and bound the wound with a tight, professional pressure bandage.

"Does it hurt?" Elena asked, her voice softer as she tightened the final knot.

"Being bitten by a monster doesn’t hurt," Riven answered honestly, his voice raspy. "What hurts is seeing you cry."

Elena’s face flushed a deep crimson, even in the dim light. She delivered a firm, albeit careful, smack to his healthy shoulder.

"Smooth talker! You’re bleeding out and you’re still trying to act like a rogue!"

"I’m serious, El."

Once the bleeding was under control, Elena stood up and marched to the Alpha Basilisk’s carcass. With cold, surgical professionalism, she dissected the creature’s throat and extracted the pulsating venom gland, placing it carefully into a cooling canister.

"I have it," Elena said, her voice steady again. "This is enough to synthesize a cure for the entire village."

"Good," Riven said, standing up. He swayed for a moment, his balance compromised by the blood loss, but he waved off Garrick’s attempt to help him. "Mission accomplished. Let’s get out of this hole. I need a gallon of coffee."

On the long trek back through the treacherous marsh, Elena didn’t return to the center of the formation.

She walked directly beside Riven, her shoulder almost touching his. She kept her eyes fixed on that broad back—the back that was now bandaged and bloodied because of her.

Without thinking, Elena reached out. Her fingers caught the back of Riven’s torn shirt, gripping the fabric tightly.

Riven glanced back over his shoulder. "What is it, El? Scared of the dark?"

"No," Elena replied quietly, her voice full of a new, profound resolve. "I’m just making sure my wall doesn’t collapse."

Riven smiled, a genuine, warm expression that reached his eyes. He didn’t pull away. He let her hold on.

That night, in the heart of a deadly swamp, Elena realized something that no medical textbook could ever explain. She wasn’t just curing this General.

She was falling in love with him.

And Riven? Riven was only thinking one thing:

It hurts like hell, but it was worth it. Tomorrow, I’m definitely going to ask her to make me some chicken soup.