Reborn as a Hated Noble Family, We Start an Industrial Revolution-Chapter 72: One Year Later (Behind the Peace)

Chapter 72: Chapter 72: One Year Later (Behind the Peace)

Northreach Central Station. Morning – One Year Later.

If three years ago Northreach was a suffocating pit of dust and coal, and a year ago it was a noisy, steam-belching industrial hub... then today, Northreach had ascended to become the City of Light. The settlement that once consisted merely of ragged tents and grim mining barracks had undergone a metamorphosis into a shimmering center of modern civilization that pulsed with life from the first break of dawn until the stars claimed the sky.

The thick, acrid black smoke of coal-fired locomotives was now a memory of a cruder past. The air, which once felt heavy with soot, was now crisp, clean, and carried the faint, ozone-sweet scent of cold metal emanating from the magitech towers that lined the horizon. On the main rail line, a new kind of machine glided into the station with a whisper instead of a roar. Its form was aerodynamic, shaped like a silver bullet, its surface reflecting the morning sun with a mirror finish. Vibrant neon-blue ley-lines pulsed along its chassis, making the machine look like a living creature fueled by pure energy.

This was "The Lightning Rail."

The latest masterpiece from Sudrath Tech. The engine design and the complex electrical mana-grids had been spearheaded by the genius duo of Rianor and Elara. However, the structural integrity, the frictionless rails, and the high-grade alloy body had been produced under the terrifyingly strict supervision of Rumina Sudrath. Without Rumina’s "Iron Fist"—which involved berating contractors for sub-millimeter errors and ensuring every bolt was forged to perfection—this train would have remained nothing more than a beautiful concept on a blueprint.

The Lightning Rail no longer required coal. It utilized high-capacity Mana Batteries, recharged by the massive hydroelectric turbines installed at the Great Northern Dam. Every time the train passed, the flow of energy surrounding it created a soft, static hum in the air, as if the city itself were breathing in rhythm with its mechanical heart.

"The express from the Capital is arriving on Track One," a melodic, automated announcement chimed. The voice was a recorded sample of Raveena Sudrath, processed through magitech filters to sound crystal clear and authoritative.

Northreach was no longer just a Duke’s territory. It had become the Technological Capital of Aethelgard. Automated streetlamps flickered on and off in perfect sync with the solar cycle. Smooth, asphalt roads cut through the city like the veins of a new civilization. Skyscrapers, some featuring glass walls reinforced with mana-shields, rose steadily into the clouds, forming a modern skyline that had never existed in the western territories. Merchants, engineers, and researchers from across the continent flocked to the city, bringing with them a vibrant energy that fueled its rapid heartbeat.

Northreach had evolved. It was no longer the harsh, grim mining town of the past, nor the noisy, sweltering steam-factory of the previous year. It stood now as a beacon of hope for Aethelgard’s future—a city that shone not just because of its lamps, but because of the dreams and ambitions of the people within its walls.

Iron Hearth Castle – The Family Lounge.

However, deep within the magnificent castle—a fortress filled with automated cleaning drones, shimmering mana-crystal display panels, and high-tech devices capable of solving almost any worldly problem—there remained one thing that defied all technology. It was a chaos more primal, more ancient, and more honest than civilization itself: A Human Baby. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

"Oh no! Oh gods! Elena! He’s doing it again! He’s crying!" Riven shouted, his voice laced with a desperate panic that sounded like a soldier who had suddenly lost his entire battle strategy.

General Riven Sudrath (36 years old) stood frozen in the center of the room. He was surrounded by a battlefield of soft plushies, woolen blankets, and baskets of clean laundry. The formidable warrior who had once broken a Basilisk’s neck with his bare hands now looked like an awkward, terrified teenager. He was sweating profusely as he tried to hold a five-kilogram creature that was currently screaming with uncompromising ferocity.

"WAHHH! WAHHH!"

The cries echoed through the high-vaulted room, proving that the vocal power of a tiny human could easily outdo the boom of a field cannon. The baby boy was plump, his cheeks as red as fresh pomegranates, and his thick tufts of black hair were a clear sign that he had inherited his father’s strong, stubborn lineage.

His name was Kaelven Sudrath, or "Kael" for short. In the official imperial records, he was the Future Heir to the Duchy. In reality, he was currently a relentless source of domestic mayhem.

"He’s just hungry, darling," Elena said calmly. She was folding tiny baby socks with the steady hands of a surgeon and the authority of a medical commander. Her appearance had softened over the past year, becoming more motherly, yet the sharp aura of the "Strict Doctor" still radiated from her eyes. "Give him to me."

"Be careful, Elena. His neck... it still feels like jelly," Riven whispered, handing his son over with movements so slow and cautious it looked like he was handling an active mana-bomb.

The moment Kael was transferred to his mother’s arms, the screaming stopped instantly. It was as if the world had suddenly started making sense to him. He settled against her chest, nursing quietly, looking like a small creature that had finally found the peaceful center of the universe.

Riven let out a long, shuddering breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a dramatic flair. "Unbelievable. I honestly think fighting the Iron Empire’s 7th Fleet would be easier than changing a diaper," he complained, staring at Kael as if he were an undecipherable enigma.

"Don’t be so dramatic," Elena smiled, gently patting the baby’s back. "Look at him. He has your eyes. Sharp and intense. But thank the Gods he has my nose."

"And thank the Gods his personality isn’t like his grandmother’s," Riven muttered under his breath, hoping Elena wouldn’t hear. Unfortunately, his luck was not with him that day.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!"

The high-pitched voice arrived faster than a thunderclap.

Duchess Aurelia burst through the door, carrying five massive shopping bags that nearly obscured her entire frame. She looked like she had personally looted an entire high-end shopping district in a single afternoon. Following closely behind her was a young woman wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a black business suit. She carried a mana-calculator and a roll of shopping receipts so long it trailed on the floor. Her expression was one of pure, unadulterated annoyance.

It was Rumina.

"Grandma’s little treasure! Grandma brought you new toys! I have a stuffed dragon, some rubber training swords, and a miniature three-piece tuxedo!" Aurelia chirped with an enthusiasm that could rival a summer festival.

"Mother..." Riven massaged his temples, feeling his life reverting to the chaotic era before the family’s rise. "He is only four months old. He can’t even sit up, let alone wear a tuxedo."

"I don’t care! He needs to be stylish!" Aurelia immediately began peppering her grandson’s cheeks with kisses, her face beaming with joy. "Oh, look at him! He’s a carbon copy of Lucian when he was a boy!"

While Aurelia was distracted with the baby, Rumina marched up to Riven and shoved the mountain of receipts into his chest.

"Brother Riven," Rumina said coldly, adjusting her glasses. "Please have a word with Mother. That stuffed dragon cost fifty gold coins. It’s made of imported Wyrm-silk. If Kael drools or vomits on it, I am deducting the cleaning costs directly from your personal salary. No exceptions."

"Why me?!" Riven protested. "Mother bought it!"

"Mother used a credit line under the name ’General Riven Sudrath’," Rumina countered with a clinical shrug. "I am merely the auditor. Enjoy the invoice."

Riven stood there, mouth agape, holding a pile of receipts.

The atmosphere in the family lounge was incredibly warm, filled with laughter, affection, and the kind of pleasant chaos that could only be found in a home that was truly alive. The Sudrath family had reached the zenith of their happiness—a time when the world felt stable, prosperous, and full of promise.

But not everyone felt the same.

The Highest Spire of Iron Hearth Castle.

The wind howled at this altitude, whipping the short black hair of a woman sitting atop a stone gargoyle. The statue, carved into the shape of a crouching beast, had been tempered by centuries of northern storms, providing an absurd yet comfortable perch for someone who had never quite fit in on the ground floors of polite society.

Lady Rhea Sudrath (27 years old), monster hunter, master infiltrator, and the only member of the Sudrath family who felt more at home on the roof than in the dining hall, was currently sharpening one of her daggers. The sound was rhythmic and consistent, mimicking the ticking of the ancient clock in the castle’s main corridor. Srek. Srek. Srek.

Her movements were monotonic, but not born of boredom. It was the muscle memory of someone who lived on the edge of danger, yet now found herself with nothing to fight. Her gaze was hollow as she stared at the vast, clear blue sky—a sky that was too peaceful for her liking. It was a sky no longer pierced by the silhouette of a wyvern or the warning smoke of a sentry tower.

"Peace..." Rhea murmured. It wasn’t a compliment; it was the subtle complaint of someone who had forgotten how to enjoy the silence.

From her high vantage point, she looked down into the castle courtyard. She saw a world of laughter and vibrant colors—a sweet life that felt entirely foreign to her.

She saw Riven laughing as he carried Kael through the gardens, looking like a happy, slightly foolish, but proud new father. Elena stood beside him, smiling with a warmth that could melt ice. She saw Aurelia and Lucian drinking tea on the terrace, looking like a couple whose story had already concluded with a "happily ever after."

She saw Rianor, just returning from the lab with dark circles under his eyes and messy hair, being chased by Elara because he had forgotten to eat lunch for the third time this week.

She saw Rumina, walking briskly across the yard, berating a gardener because the lawn hadn’t been trimmed with perfect symmetry. Even Rumina’s anger had a purpose: to keep this castle running flawlessly.

Roland had his politics.

Raphael and Raveena had their studies at the Academy.

And Rhea? Rhea had a gargoyle and a set of blades that she had sharpened three thousand times this week.

"And me?" Rhea tossed her dagger into the air, watching the metal catch the light for a few seconds before catching it again with the lethal precision of habit.

"I’m just... Auntie Rhea, the girl who’s good at killing people."

It had been a year since a meaningful threat had appeared on their borders. Bandits were now too terrified to even glance at the Sudrath gates. The monsters in the deep forests had been decimated by Riven during the plague. Guard missions were too easy; Riven’s new professional army was so efficient that she was never even called to action.

Rhea felt like a Rusted Blade. Sharp, but unused.

She was happy for her brother, truly. And she loved Kaelven with a fierce, stubborn devotion that only she understood. But she felt alienated, as if there were an invisible glass wall between her and the warmth of her family. Her soul was wild, filled with embers, and her entire body seemed to ache for the adrenaline of a real hunt. She missed the scent of iron. She missed the thrill of the chase.

"I’m bored," Rhea hissed, and it wasn’t hyperbole.

She stood up, stretching her muscles which had grown stiff from sitting too long on the cold stone.

"If I stay here any longer, I’m going to lose my mind. I’ll end up becoming one of those annoying aunts who does nothing but comment on other people’s lives because they have nothing of their own."

Rhea descended from the spire with fluid, cat-like movements. She allowed the wind to brush against her skin one last time—a wind that always felt more honest than the polite conversations at the dinner table—before leaping down to a stone balcony below. Her steps were light and agile, but her chest remained hollow, like a small void that refused to be filled.

She needed space. She needed a new purpose. She needed a meaning that didn’t involve being the shadow of the great Sudrath family.

And unbeknownst to her, somewhere out there, another soul was moving at a speed and direction that was beginning to align with her own. Rhea didn’t know it yet, but her life was about to become far less quiet, and far more dangerous, than she could ever imagine.