Reborn as a Hated Noble Family, We Start an Industrial Revolution-Chapter 134: THE WEAPON REVOLUTION

​The searing heat erupting from the massive furnaces within the Iron Hearth Blacksmithing Workshop seemed unable to banish the deep, settling cold within Rianor Sudrath’s marrow. The pungent scent of machine oil mingled with the acrid aroma of sulfur wafting from Arvid’s chemical laboratory in the corner of the room. This was no longer a traditional blacksmith’s forge, once meant for hammering swords and shields. This place had transformed into the heart of a pulsating military industry, the very lifeblood of the Northreach territory.

​Rianor stood before a long workbench cluttered with scrawled diagrams and precision-cut metal shards. His eyes were bloodshot, a testament to the fact that he hadn’t slept for a single second since the dinner banquet ended. His right hand twitched occasionally—a tremor born from the neural mana damage he had sustained—but every time it happened, he gripped the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white, forcing his mind to maintain absolute control over his physical form.

​"You look like a walking corpse," a deep, raspy voice broke the silence.

​Hektor stepped in with heavy footfalls. The former lord of Northveil wore a thick leather apron stained with grease, his protective crystal goggles perched atop his broad forehead. His rigid, technical nature was now being channeled entirely into the rows of lathes he operated with grim efficiency.

​Rianor turned slightly, offering a thin, bitter smirk. "A corpse can still work. And we do not have the luxury of time for sleep."

​Hektor approached, his gaze fixed on a piece of black metal lying on the table. Its shape was bizarre, unlike any weapon he had ever seen on the continent of Aethel-Terra. "So, this is what you mentioned yesterday? The object that will reclaim my land?"

​There was a surging intensity in Hektor’s voice when he said ’my land.’ Northveil was everything to him, and its fall at the hands of Rudigor was a wound more agonizing than any physical blow.

​"The SIG MCX SPEAR—we will call it the ’Sudrath Spear’ for public consumption," Rianor replied. "This is not a magical weapon. This is a kinetic killing machine."

​"Without a mana crystal inside?" Hektor asked, hesitant yet profoundly curious.

​"Mana circuits will only exist in the barrel for heat reinforcement and friction reduction. But the mechanism itself? Purely chemical and mechanical." Rianor pointed toward Arvid, who had just emerged from his lab carrying a tube filled with a dense, black powder.

​Arvid looked exhilarated, his crystal glasses shimmering under the furnace light. "A mixture of sulfur, saltpeter, and charcoal from the Black Forest. Rianor calls it ’Gunpowder.’ I have stabilized it with chemical alchemy so it won’t detonate in extreme temperatures, but it still possesses an incredible propulsive force."

​Hektor picked up the handle of the weapon, feeling its weight. "Cold... and incredibly dense. How does it function?"

​Rianor took a deep breath, trying to suppress the tremor in his hands as he began to explain. "Imagine a small, controlled explosion inside a sealed chamber. That explosion creates high-pressure gas, pushing a metal projectile through the barrel at speeds exceeding the velocity of sound. It doesn’t take two days to etch mana circuits. We can produce these parts with your lathes in a matter of hours."

​"Two days for one magitech spear versus a hundred of these in a day?" Hektor murmured, his eyes flashing. "Rianor, if this works, we won’t just take back Northveil. We will shake the very foundations of this world."

​"That is the goal," Rianor cut in. "Hektor, focus all your technicians. We need five thousand units in record time. Use high-carbon steel from the South Hill mines."

​The work began in earnest. For hours, the workshop atmosphere shifted into a noisy industrial symphony. Rianor forced himself to stay focused. When he reached the point of installing the tiny trigger components, his hands began to shake violently. He stopped for a moment, closed his eyes, and visualized Elara’s face as she lay in a coma. His anger and guilt transmuted into cold, hard focus. With a mental jerk, the tremor ceased. He installed the locking pin with perfect precision.

​On the body of the weapon, Rianor engraved a symbol using a magitech etching tool: A howling wolf—the pride of House Sudrath.

​"Finished," Rianor whispered.

​Just then, Captain Thorne entered the workshop. The infantry leader looked skeptical. In his hand, he still carried a standard Magitech Spear whose circuits had begun to crack from over-exhaustion.

​"Young Master, you called for me to test this new ’iron stick’?" Thorne asked with the tone of an old soldier not easily impressed.

​"Captain, put your spear away," Rianor said, handing the Sudrath Spear to Thorne. "This is the future of the Sudrath infantry. Not just for elite units like the Ghost Squad, but for every soldier who stands on the front line."

​Thorne received the weapon, frowning as he tested its balance. "There is no mana aura. How am I supposed to kill monsters or cyborgs without energy?"

​"Follow me to the courtyard," Rianor invited.

​The weather in Iron Hearth was clear that morning. The sky was bright without snowstorms, providing perfect visibility at the firing range. At the far end of the field, Hektor had arranged targets made of salvaged heavy iron armor from the Iron Empire.

​Rianor gave brief instructions. "Rest it against your shoulder, Captain. Peer through that sight gap. Pull the lever on the side to chamber the first round... now, pull the trigger."

​Thorne complied. As a veteran soldier, his movements were efficient. However, when he pulled the trigger...

​CLICK!

​Only the sound of metal meeting metal. No explosion. No projectile.

​"Trash," muttered Hektor, standing nearby, his face reddening with embarrassment at the technical failure.

​Rianor did not panic. He immediately approached, inspecting the weapon. "Firing pin issue. The spring is too weak because of the metal’s cold temperature." He quickly pulled out a pocket tool, dismantling the rear of the weapon with incredible speed, adjusting the spring tension, and reassembling it. "Try again, Captain. This isn’t magic failing due to a botched incantation; it’s mechanics needing adjustment."

​Thorne exhaled, aiming once more. This time, he pulled the trigger with more conviction.

​BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

​A sequence of thunderous explosions shattered the silence of Iron Hearth. White smoke billowed from the barrel. Thorne was startled by the recoil pushing against his shoulder, but he remained standing.

​At the end of the field, the enemy’s steel armor was decimated. Large, gaping holes were punched through the chest plate, as if hit by an invisible giant. The kinetic bullets, with their solid metal cores, had pierced the steel as if it were mere rotted wood.

​Thorne was frozen. He stared at the weapon in his hand, then at the destroyed target. "Without mana... I just destroyed heavy armor without spending a single drop of energy?"

​"That’s the beauty of it, Captain," Arvid chimed in proudly. "Anyone, even a soldier whose mana is completely depleted, can remain lethal on the battlefield."

​The Sudrath knights practicing nearby immediately gathered around. They had seen the Ghost Squad’s Gauss Rifles—sleek, silent, and advanced—but seeing a weapon that could fire in rapid succession with such an intimidating roar made their blood race.

​"So... we will all be holding these?" asked a young soldier, his eyes wide with wonder.

​"Yes," Thorne answered, his voice now filled with authority. "You will no longer be cannon fodder relying on a single spear thrust. You will become a storm of lead that obliterates the enemy before they can even get close."

​"Incredible..." Hektor murmured, his hand stroking the Wolf symbol on the weapon’s receiver. "With five thousand men holding these... Northveil will be ours again in a single night."

​On the balcony overlooking the practice yard, Duke Lucian Sudrath stood in silence. As a ’Sanusi,’ a soul from Earth, he knew that sound all too well. The sound of firearms was a symbol of power and destruction he recognized from his previous world.

​However, deep within his heart, the memory of the original Lucian Sudrath seemed to rebel. The Duke’s knightly soul felt that warfare was transforming into something cold and dishonorable. Killing enemies from a distance with chemical powder felt like a betrayal of the knightly ethics he had upheld for decades.

​"Is this truly what we want?" Aurelia whispered, suddenly standing beside him.

​Lucian looked at his wife, then down at his son. He saw hope blooming again on the faces of Hektor and Thorne. He saw the grim determination in Rianor’s exhausted eyes.

​"The world of knights died the moment the Iron Empire invaded Northveil, Aurelia," Lucian answered with a heavy, pragmatic voice. "Now, we are no longer fighting for honor. We are fighting for survival. If this gunpowder is the price to be paid for protecting Kaelven and the future of Sudrath, then I will be the first one to pull the trigger."

​Lucian descended to the courtyard, his steps firm. His presence immediately brought a respectful silence to the area. He walked toward Thorne, took the Sudrath Spear from the Captain’s hand, and felt its cold weight.

​"Rianor," Lucian called.

​"Yes, Father?"

​"Ensure that every bullet produced carries the vengeance of the soldiers who fell at Northveil. Begin mass production this very day. Empty the family coffers if necessary. I want Northreach to become an iron fortress that cannot be breached even by the gods themselves."

​Rianor nodded firmly. "By your command, Duke."

​That night, the forges of Iron Hearth never dimmed. The sound of lathes and the clinking of hammers echoed incessantly. Under the leadership of Rianor, Arvid, and Hektor, House Sudrath was no longer just forging weapons; they were forging a new destiny for the continent of Aethel-Terra. A destiny where power was no longer determined by mana lineages, but by the power of science and the cold steel ignited by sulfur.