Reborn as a Hated Noble Family, We Start an Industrial Revolution-Chapter 142: RETURN OF THE STORM-TRIGGER
The howling winds of the Alps-Draconia Pass never ceased their mournful wail, sounding like the collective weeping of thousands of souls buried beneath the eternal snows. Beneath the shadow of towering granite cliffs, a hundred Sudrath infantrymen stood in rigid, disciplined formation. They were hardened soldiers, men who had faced death in the muddy trenches of the frontier, yet currently, their faces were as pale as the drifts surrounding them. It wasn’t the sub-zero temperatures that drained the color from their skin, but the sight descending from the heavens above.
Five hundred massive silhouettes sliced through the thick mountain mist, their wings beating with a rhythmic thrum that vibrated deep within the lungs of every human present. Draconia had not sent aid in the form of gold, grain, or diplomatic promises. They had sent themselves.
At the head of the formation, Roland Sudrath stood firm, his black wool mantle billowing violently in the gale. Beside him, Rumina was frantically scribbling notes into a small leather pocketbook, her fingers trembling slightly from the cold—or perhaps the awe—as she occasionally glanced back at the luxury carriage parked nearby.
"Report, Master Roland!" Sergeant Elian stepped forward, his salute stiff. "The troops are ready, but... is it true? Are we truly expected to mount... them?"
Roland looked at Elian, then turned his gaze back to the sky. "These dragons are the warriors of Draconia, Elian. They are not mounts; they are our allies, our brothers-in-arms. Offer them your respect, or you will find yourself as a mid-flight snack before we even cross the border."
At that exact moment, a white dragon with scales that shimmered like polished pearls descended with a muffled thud in front of Roland. Intense heat radiated from its massive body, instantly melting the snow into steaming puddles. The creature lowered its majestic head, its blood-red eyes fixed on Roland with a softness that was startlingly contradictory for a mountain-sized apex predator.
In a flash of blinding light, the dragon’s massive form began to contract. The reptilian silhouette shrank, shifting back into a humanoid form. Seraphina Draconia stood there, her small white horns still protruding from her long, silken white hair, her scaled tail twitching with restless energy behind her plate armor.
"We don’t have much time, Roland," Seraphina said. Her voice was melodic, yet it possessed a resonant depth that seemed to vibrate in the air. "Zoldrak has already given the signal. If we do not move now, we will miss the swiftest high-altitude currents of the mountain range."
Rumina looked up, staring at their carriage, which was still loaded with several crates of emergency logistics and fine furniture. "Wait! Brother Roland, that carriage... it’s a custom-built model! It cost at least two hundred gold coins. Are we truly just going to leave it here in the middle of nowhere?"
Roland turned to his sister, his gaze flat and uncompromising. "Rumina, listen to me. Every second we waste trying to salvage a wooden box is a second longer that Rianor and Father have to stand alone against the Empire. Our technicians in Iron Hearth can build ten carriages more luxurious than this in a single night. Time is the only resource we cannot buy with gold right now. Leave it. Carry only the ammunition and mana-crystals you can shoulder."
Rumina bit her lip, clutching her ledger tightly, but she knew her brother was right. "Fine... but I am recording this as an operational loss to be reimbursed by Rianor’s defense department later."
Roland let out a heavy sigh, then looked at Seraphina. "Seraphina, can you carry both of us?"
Seraphina smirked, a wild, predatory expression flitting across her beautiful face. "I am the Crown Princess of the White Dragon Clan. Carrying two humans is a trivial task. But a warning for your sister... do not scream too loudly near my ears. I value my hearing."
Seraphina closed her eyes once more. Her body began to expand, muscles shifting into massive reptilian structures, wings unfurling until they cast a vast shadow over the entire camp. In her dragon form, Seraphina was as terrifying as she was beautiful. Roland climbed onto her back, settling into a specialized saddle that had been integrated into her scales using ancient Draconian techniques.
"Come, Rumina. Up," Roland said, extending his hand.
Rumina climbed up awkwardly, her boots slipping on the hot scales before she finally settled behind Roland, hugging her brother’s waist with a grip of pure terror. "If I fall, Brother, I will spend the afterlife haunting you."
"Hold tight, little human," Seraphina’s draconic voice echoed directly into their minds via telepathy.
On the other side of the clearing, General Zoldrak landed in his copper-red dragon form. He was significantly larger than Seraphina, his hide marked with deep claw scars along his thick neck—trophies of a hundred battles. He glared at the Sudrath infantrymen who were still hesitating.
"YOU HUMANS!" Zoldrak roared, his voice like a thunderclap that threatened to trigger an avalanche. "MOUNT MY WARRIORS NOW! OR WALK AND DIE IN THE TEETH OF THE SNOWSTORM!"
Faced with the wrath of a Dragon General, the hundred Sudrath infantrymen moved like lightning. They scrambled onto the backs of the other high-caste dragons. The soldiers steeled themselves, their hands white-knuckled as they gripped the saddle handles, desperately trying to suppress their primal, instinctive fear of being so close to such powerful predators.
Zoldrak glanced at Roland, who was already positioned atop Seraphina. A spark of genuine respect flickered in the General’s golden eyes. "You are truly making history, human. Never have this many of your kind graced the skies of Draconia without being corpses first."
"Thank you for the honor, General," Roland shouted back over the wind. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺
Zoldrak beat his wings once, creating a localized hurricane that sent loose equipment tumbling. "BATTALION! FLY!"
Simultaneously, five hundred dragons leaped into the air. The sudden surge of gravity and acceleration made Rumina let out a muffled shriek, her face buried firmly in Roland’s back. The scenery below—the abandoned carriage, the border camp, and the winding mountain paths—shrank in seconds until they were nothing more than indistinct lines on a vast, white canvas.
The journey from the Draconian border to Northreach was no short distance. By carriage, it was a grueling, two-week trek through dangerous passes. But in the sky, everything was different. Yet, even from this height, the sheer vastness of the Aethel-Terra continent was intimidating.
After several hours of high-altitude flight, the temperature plummeted. A thick, oppressive fog began to gather, and the mana pressure in the atmosphere began to fluctuate violently.
"We are entering a mana-turbulence zone," Zoldrak reported via mental link. "Maintain altitude! We cannot have the lower-caste dragons exhausting themselves in the thick air!"
"Zoldrak! We are moving too slowly!" Seraphina sent a sharp mental retort. "If we maintain this formation’s pace, we won’t reach Iron Hearth until tomorrow night!"
"Princess! We must maintain the integrity of the formation!" Zoldrak protested. "These human infantrymen will not survive if we pierce the mana-storm at full speed!"
Roland looked down, seeing his men on the other dragons. Their faces were frozen, their skin turning blue from the cold, yet their eyes were wide and filled with an unbreakable resolve. "General Zoldrak! My soldiers are trained to endure extreme conditions! Do not slow down on our account! We are Sudrath; we do not break easily!"
Seraphina didn’t wait for a further response. With a roar that seemed to split the very clouds, she beat her wings with renewed vigor, peeling away from the main formation.
"Seraphina! What are you doing?!" Zoldrak bellowed, but the white dragon was already streaking away like a bolt of lightning from a crossbow. Zoldrak could only slap his forehead with a massive fore-talon in his dragon form, growling in frustration before finally ordering the rest of the host to increase their speed to the absolute limit.
On Seraphina’s back, the velocity was staggering. Rumina felt as if the skin of her face was being peeled back by the sheer force of the wind.
"Brother! This... is... too... fast!" Rumina screamed, her voice instantly devoured by the gale.
"Close your eyes, Rumina! Trust Seraphina!" Roland shouted back. He hunkered down as low as possible, pressing himself against the nape of Seraphina’s neck. He could feel the powerful, steady thrum of her heart through the thick scales.
Suddenly, the sky ahead of them turned pitch black. Massive cumulonimbus clouds, crackling with violet lightning, blocked their path. This was a natural mana-storm, a phenomenon known for bringing down even the largest of flying beasts.
"I am going through!" Seraphina warned.
Lightning arched and hissed around them. Seraphina performed a sharp, banking maneuver, narrowly dodging a bolt of pure energy. Roland felt a wave of intense nausea from the sudden shift in G-forces, but he forced himself to stay conscious. Amidst the chaos of the storm, he noticed Seraphina emitting a translucent barrier from her head—a natural draconic version of the Aero-Balance Array—to shield Roland and Rumina from the direct impact of the crashing winds.
"Are you alright?" Roland asked, his mind projecting concern.
"Just... a little tired... this storm is stronger than usual," Seraphina replied, her mental voice slightly strained. "But I will not stop. I want to see this city you take such pride in."
Roland remained silent, moved by her determination. The distance from Draconia to Northreach was still vast. Below them, the land of Aethel-Terra appeared as an endless expanse of darkness. Only the faint, jagged shadows of forests and mountain ranges flitted by. There were no fortresses in sight, no city lights. Only the oppressive silence of the high heavens.
Rumina, beginning to adjust to the rhythmic jolts, loosened her grip just a fraction. "Brother... when we arrive... what is the first thing we will do?"
Roland stared ahead, toward the north where a faint plume of smoke was visible only to the sharp eyes of a dragon. "We will prove to them. That Sudrath never walks alone."
Seraphina let out a roar of triumph as they finally punched through the storm, emerging into a clear night sky studded with a million brilliant stars. Behind them, five hundred distant points of light—Zoldrak’s dragons—began to close the gap, though they were still far behind due to Seraphina’s extreme speed.
This journey was not merely about a homecoming. It was a massive shift in the continental balance of power. A hundred Sudrath infantrymen, who hours ago were mere ground troops, were currently undergoing a mental transformation atop the backs of the lords of the sky. They were no longer an ordinary force; they were the harbingers of destruction for anyone who dared challenge House Sudrath.
"We still have a few hours before we reach the Northreach border," Seraphina said. "Rest, Roland. You will need all of your strength to deal with your brother and the storm he has stirred."
Roland closed his eyes for a moment, letting the freezing night wind calm his racing thoughts. Beyond the darkness, he knew the fate of his family was waiting. And this time, he wasn’t carrying diplomatic papers. He was bringing five hundred dragons ready to burn the world for the alliance he had forged.
