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

Chapter 298: 298| We’ve Reached The Lion’s Den

​Inside the warehouse, the lingering emotional silence between Eva and Rianor hadn’t fully settled.

​Creak... The old wooden door ahead of them suddenly groaned open. Noctis staggered inside, his body swaying heavily. Thud. His shoulder nearly crashed into the doorframe.

​The assassin was an absolute wreck. His left arm hung limp and powerless at his side. The usually sleek black cloak on his back was torn wide open, exposing blackened, blistered skin.

​Yet, strangely enough... the young man was still smiling.

​That trademark, mischievous street grin of his hadn’t faded, even with his body on the brink of collapse.

​"Donar... cough..." Noctis’s voice was hoarse and wet, yet his tone remained as light as a feather. "...I put him to sleep. He won’t be bothering us anymore."

​Roland instantly got to his feet. "You killed the Arcanum Master?"

​"Hah, no." Noctis winced, limping forward while clutching his numb left arm. "But at least he won’t be waking up for the next few days. Maybe a whole week."

​He stopped and slowly leaned his uninjured right side against the wall. Hss. A quiet hiss escaped his lips. "That old geezer was way more terrifying than I thought. His wind element... it actually makes you sick to your stomach. Normally, you can’t see the wind, right? But Donar’s wind? You could see it. You could smell it. Felt exactly like being trapped inside a giant meat grinder."

​Adul, his panic immediately flaring up again, rushed over with a small bucket of water and a roll of bandages. "Sir! Good gods, your back—that’s a fatal wound!"

​"Eh? This?" Noctis glanced at his own back playing dumb, as if he’d just noticed the injury. "It’s just a slightly excessive cooling sensation. Don’t be so dramatic."

​"What cooling sensation?! Your skin is charred black!"

​"Oh, please, it’s just dead skin. I still have plenty of spare layers underneath."

​Adul grumbled in sheer frustration. He couldn’t decide whether to cry out of pity or smack the cocky assassin upside the head. Eventually, he settled for kneeling and cleaning Noctis’s wounds with trembling hands.

​Not even five minutes later, the warehouse door opened again without a sound.

​Tap. Arcelia stepped inside. Her green cloak was dusted with chalk, but the girl herself was completely unscathed. Only traces of deep exhaustion were painted beneath her emerald eyes. Her trusty Aura bow was slung safely across her back, its green glow stabilizing into a dim pulse.

​"I’ve swept the optimal escape route to the north clean," Arcelia reported, her voice as cold and efficient as always. "But just so you know, the Capital has officially turned into a kicked hornet’s nest. Paladins are swarming everywhere. Arcanum units have been fully deployed."

​Arcelia’s eyes then shifted to Noctis, who was currently wincing as Adul wrapped bandages around his torso. "You actually fought Donar alone?"

​Noctis flashed his teeth. "Heh. But I won in the end, didn’t I?"

​Arcelia shook her head slowly. A gesture of pity. Yet... the corner of her lips twitched upward. Extremely faint, practically invisible. "Idiot."

​"An idiot who’s still breathing. That’s what matters."

​Roland stepped into the center of the room, cutting the moment short. "Arcelia, Noctis—your mission here is done. You two need to head back to Lobrecht’s position immediately. He needs the extra firepower at the southern gate. I reckon the main battle there is still blazing."

​Arcelia stared at Roland sharply. "And what about you?"

​"We’re pushing forward to the Grand Cathedral."

​"Alone? In the middle of martial law?"

​Roland looked at the remnants of his team, one by one. Dom, standing like a mountain of stone despite his injured arm. Naya, checking the remaining battery cells in her Gauss Rifle. Rianor, sitting slumped with rotting burns. Eva, standing beside Rianor with her eyes still red. And Adul, frozen with the end of a bandage in hand.

​"This is no longer a numbers game," Roland stated with absolute finality. "This is about ripping out the root of the problem that started all this."

​Arcelia fell silent. The sniper weighed the resolve in Roland’s eyes before finally nodding. "Are you sure you know the death-trap of a route to the Cathedral?"

​"I’ve had it mapped in my head since my first week in this rotten city."

​"In that case..." Arcelia turned to her partner. "Can you still walk?"

​Noctis forced himself to stand, scoffing in offense. "Tch. That question insults my pride. Of course I ca—Ugh!"

​Noctis’s knees suddenly buckled. He nearly tipped over into the water bucket. With lightning reflexes, Arcelia darted forward and caught the young man’s arm without a single mocking word.

​"You two," Roland called out before they reached the door. "Make sure Lobrecht knows one thing: We succeeded. Rianor has been extracted. Now... it’s entirely his turn to act."

​Arcelia gave a firm nod. As she opened the door, Noctis glanced back over his shoulder. "Hey, Mr. Foreigner."

​Roland met his gaze.

​"Don’t die a stupid death. I’m still dying to dissect how that weird black rifle of yours works."

​Roland offered a thin smirk. "You too. Don’t die on me yet."

​The two of them vanished into the streets. The door clicked shut. The warehouse was swallowed once more by a tense silence.

​Roland turned around, facing his core team.

​"We move to the Cathedral now. No one gets left behind."

​Rustle. Rianor forced his body off the wall. "I’m coming with you."

​Eva reflexively spun around in shock, her hand reaching out to stop him. "Are you out of your mind?! You were just interrogated and your wounds—"

​"I am going to watch this play until the curtains close," Rianor cut her off. His voice grated like sandpaper, but his tone radiated absolute arrogance, leaving zero room for negotiation.

​Eva’s mouth fell open, counterarguments sitting right on the tip of her tongue. However, she bit her lower lip tight. She knew that once this stubborn bastard named Rianor Sudrath made up his mind, not even the gods could change it.

​Roland stared hard into his older brother’s gray eyes. "Are you sure you can still fight with a half-charred body?"

​"No," Rianor answered casually. "But I can still drag my feet and walk. That’s more than enough."

​"In that case..." Roland zipped his coat up to his neck. "We roll out. Tonight."

​They left the hidden warehouse, abandoning the building that had been their temporary haven for days.

​Outside, the Capital of Luminara had officially declared highest-level martial law.

​The streets weren’t pulverized like the warzone at the southern gates, but the air was suffocating. Paladins marched hurriedly at every intersection, their white plate armor reflecting the late afternoon sun. Arcanum members in colorful faction robes trailed behind them—all rushing toward the southern sector where black smoke continued to pollute the sky.

​Bzzzt... krrshk... The frequencies of the communication crystals in the Paladins’ ears buzzed noisily everywhere, spitting out a barrage of frantic reports.

​"Condition Red! Key prisoners have escaped the Magniora Tower!"

​"They’re heading south! All strike units—intercept their escape routes!"

​"Lock down all access points! Do not let those rats reach the city gates!"

​Roland led the group through the city’s veins. They cut through narrow alleys flanked by high walls, moved silently within the shadows, and avoided the main avenues crawling with Church bloodhounds.

​But luck never lasts forever.

​At a blind intersection near the plaza, their path was blocked.

​Five white-armored Paladins abruptly rounded the corner of a building. Their tight semi-circle formation instantly locked down Roland’s team. Judging from their emblem colors and Aura flares, the squad was perfectly balanced: two Fire Vanguard, one Wind, one Earth Defender, and a Lightning Sniper.

​They were too close. Zero room to maneuver or retreat.

​Roland’s face instantly hardened. "Dom. Naya. Screw being quiet. Use your Gauss now."

​Dom and Naya didn’t need to be told twice. In perfect unison, they raised the black metal barrels of their rifles. No more disguises. No more playing defense. They were the Ghost Squad—and their patience had worn dangerously thin ever since stepping foot in this city.

​Vwuuuum—THWUMP!

​The discharge of a Gauss Rifle didn’t sound anything like a cannon blast. It was just a brief, dry magnetic whine, immediately followed by the sickening sound of steel being violently torn apart.

​The frontline Fire Paladin dropped dead instantly, a baseball-sized hole punched straight through his chest. The holy armor, layered with the Church’s blessings, was pierced as easily as wet paper by a hypersonic magnetic projectile.

​THWUMP!

​The Wind Paladin tried to blink-step away, using a burst of air beneath his boots. But the electromagnetic slug was infinitely faster than his ocular reflexes. CRACK. His white helm shattered, his head snapping violently backward before his rigid body hit the asphalt.

​THWUMP!

​Realizing it was a physical projectile threat, the Earth Paladin frantically summoned a pillar of stone to shield himself. Too slow. The slug punched right through the half-formed clay pillar and embedded itself perfectly in his shoulder. He screamed in agony, collapsing as he clutched his decimated arm.

​That left two Paladins—Fire and Lightning—who were now panicking, scrambling to chant counter-attack spells.

​But before the first syllable left their lips, Dom had already lunged forward like a rabid bull. THWACK! A dense Aura-clad uppercut pulverized the Fire Paladin’s jaw, sending his body flying until he kissed the wall.

​On the flank, Naya blurred from a blind spot. Snikt! Her twin daggers slipped nimbly into the armpit gap of the Lightning Paladin’s armor, severing vital nerves in one clean thrust. Done.

​Five elite Church Paladins. Butchered in under ten seconds.

​"Damn it, they definitely know our location now," Naya grumbled, wiping the blood from her daggers onto an enemy’s cloak.

​"Let them." Roland walked coldly past the pools of blood and twitching bodies. "We keep moving forward."

​As they maintained a constant sprint through the next alley, their ears caught the continuation of the reports from a communication crystal dropped by one of the dead Paladins.

​"Targets spotted in the northern sector near the plaza! Formation: four men, two women! One of them is Rianor Sudrath!"

​"Hold the perimeter! Do not let those bastards reach the Cathedral!"

​Hearing that, Adul and Eva’s faces instantly paled. They were now officially public enemies number one. The entire city was hunting for their heads.

​Yet, Roland’s expression remained sickeningly relaxed. "They know where we are. But fortunately, they are completely blind to our final destination. That’s a crucial psychological advantage."

​"What advantage, Sir?!" Adul pressed, panting hard to keep up. "They literally just screamed the word Cathedral on the radio!"

​"Pay attention to their phrasing, Adul," Roland answered casually without dropping his pace. "They’re shouting Cathedral as a route that needs to be defended, not our end goal. In their minds, we’re just rats running around in a panic, looking for an exit out of the Capital. They would never suspect that we’re marching straight to the heart of their stronghold to hand-deliver our lives."

​Rianor—forced to drag his feet while being propped up by Dom’s sturdy shoulder—let out a cynical scoff. "You’re banking on our enemies being brain-dead?"

​"Not brain-dead, Brother," Roland glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "I’m betting on their absolute arrogance. Their egos are way too inflated to believe that sewer rats would dare challenge the Lion right inside its den."

​Eva glared at Roland in sheer disbelief. "You’re completely insane."

​Roland offered a thin smirk. "Maybe."

​They continued to push forward. Their pace grew more aggressive, utterly merciless.

​At the third intersection, another blockade of four Paladins stood in their way. This time, Roland didn’t even bother opening his mouth to issue a combat order.

​The muzzles of Dom and Naya’s rifles rose on pure instinct.

​THWUMP! THWUMP!

​The two knights in the front row dropped with caved-in chests before their swords were even drawn.

​Seeing their comrades die so pointlessly, the remaining two Paladins broke formation, attempting to flank from the left and right.

​But Eva had already maneuvered ahead. Vwuum. A dim Scarlet Aura ignited around her body—it didn’t need to be blindingly bright, just enough to hyper-accelerate her leg muscles. She slid low, slashing the knee tendons of the third Paladin, making him stagger. BAM! Dom instantly finished the poor knight off with a brutal rifle-butt strike to the head.

​The last Paladin, wielding the Fire attribute, frantically raised his palm to fire a point-blank blast. But Naya’s shadow had already vaulted behind him. Shnk. One precision stab to the base of his neck, and the knight collapsed into a heap of dead steel plates.

​Dom immediately checked his rifle’s mechanism. Clack. "Our ammo is in the red zone," he reported. His voice was entirely monotone, merely stating a battlefield calculation.

​"How many rounds left for the two of you?" Roland asked sharply.

​Dom didn’t answer. He simply stared intently at his employer.

​Roland understood immediately. Dom’s silence was the most terrifying answer he could receive right now.

​They kept carving their way through the heart of the city. Ground zero was getting closer.

​On the southern horizon, the smoke of battle was still burning Luminara’s sky. The echoes of raw magic detonations, clashing steel, and war cries still bounced in the distance. Lobrecht and hundreds of fighters from the Heretic Order were still out there, bleeding and sweating to buy Roland’s team a clean point of entry. Gladius, Bastion, Hexalia—all of them were putting their lives on the line for this exact stage.

​And right ahead...

​The Grand Cathedral stood tall and arrogant.

​Its massive golden dome reflected its own radiance under the afternoon sun, as if daring anyone to defile the sanctity of its grounds.

​Roland halted his steps for a moment, looking up at the Cathedral’s peak. His eyes narrowed coldly.

​"Brace yourselves," Roland murmured quietly. "We’ve reached the Lion’s den."