Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

Would that work?

Apparently not. Chloe had said that the Pirate King could no longer be harmed by anything mundane. Even if they threw him into a furnace, he wouldn’t burn to death. Besides, they might not even have a furnace big enough for that.

Hmm? Actually, maybe there was one. Wasn’t the Castel Cathedral built on top of an unimaginably massive furnace?

Even if it wasn’t big enough, they could always build a bigger one.

For some reason, the thought of “burning the Pirate King as if he were pollution” lingered in Hughes’ mind, refusing to go away. His brain whirled with wild thoughts, trying to come up with a solution.

That was pollution from the entire Storm Ocean! If it could be used as fuel, wouldn’t that mean Castel would never lack fuel again?

Castel had been plagued by fuel shortages for quite some time. Even though the island had plenty of trees, it produced no coal. Hughes had to exhaust every method to find usable fuel.

He had finally managed to use pollution as a substitute. But once the Pirate King was dead, would there still be pollution under the Storm Ocean?

Without pollution, what would Castel burn? How would they maintain industrialization without fuel?

The rapid development of Castel depended on the corpses of murlocs and arm monsters. The pollution they produced was like the lifeblood of industry, giving this steel giant an endless supply of productive power.And now they were saying this fuel source would run out?

No, they couldn’t let the Pirate King just die like that. Absolutely not!

Hughes ground his teeth in frustration.

He paced in circles inside the room until the sky began to lighten.

Only then did he suddenly stop.

His bloodshot eyes were full of excitement.

Hughes rushed to the table, grabbed the diary, cut his hand, and began to write:

【Chloe, I have a not-so-mature idea.】

〖.〗

〖Y-You say it〗

【The Pirate King can’t be harmed, right?】

〖Yes, nothing mundane can hurt him anymore.〗

【Then can he hurt himself?】

〖?〗

【Look, isn’t the Pirate King the flesh and blood of the Sea God, while Monica is the Sea God’s soul?】

【What if I build a really, really, really big steam engine, stuff the Pirate King inside, and have Monica summon a Machine Soul or Clamorer using the Sea God’s soul?】

【Wouldn’t that mean the Pirate King is burning himself?】

【Others can’t hurt him, but he hurting himself should be fine, right?】

〖.〗

Chloe didn’t reply, but Hughes felt as if the diary trembled ever so slightly.

That should be agreement, right?

Sure enough, she agreed with his idea. Hughes nodded with satisfaction.

〖Theoretically speaking... it doesn’t seem impossible.〗

Several days later, Castel Island.

The sunlight was painfully bright. Kyle plopped down on a stone, fanning himself with his hat.

“Captain Kyle, how much longer do we have to patrol like this?”

“You ask me, and who am I supposed to ask?”

Kyle shot the man a glare.

Because of his performance in the fight against the murlocs, Kyle had been promoted to squad captain. Even though the seawater had receded recently, occasional murlocs still surfaced, so the Holy Guard had assigned patrols to keep watch daily.

Kyle didn’t want to patrol. He wanted to go back to the factory. It was hot, noisy, and the work was tough, but it always gave him a strange sense of comfort.

He didn’t even know why. The more people he met, the more he liked those steel machines.

Kyle had told Alexei his thoughts. The scribe general overseeing the Holy Guard had sent Kyle’s former political officer to persuade him. Kyle ended up talking with him for hours before finally, in a daze, agreeing to stay in the Holy Guard.

Damn it, I should’ve been firm back then. Then I wouldn’t be out here baking under the sun.

Kyle looked toward the distant sea, barely visible now, and sighed.

Apparently, they were originally supposed to head for the Pirate King’s Court and fight some giant monster. But for some unknown reason, that mission had been canceled.

If Kyle had his way, he’d rather fight monsters than endure these boring patrols.

Of course, that was just a thought. Even after going through war, he was still very much a coward.

But sometimes, you just had to step up.

“Captain, is that a monster over there?”

Kyle jolted upright from the stone, grabbed his bolt-action rifle beside him, and looked toward where the man was pointing.

Far off in the distance, there was a small black dot. He took a deep breath and squinted.

Hmm, it sort of looked like a murloc?

Kyle wasn’t sure. He glanced around—everything was calm. Even near the black shape, the land was flat and still.

Should he go check it out?

He hesitated in place for a while, then gritted his teeth. “Let’s go take a look.”

The seawater had completely receded by now. Not just Castel, even the seabed beyond the island was exposed.

The Banshees had cleared the network paths again. If Kyle blew the warning whistle, the nearest Banshee could arrive within two minutes.

Besides, judging by its size, it didn’t look like an arm monster. And as for murlocs, Kyle had slain plenty. There shouldn’t be too much danger checking it out.

The patrol squad crept forward cautiously and stopped about fifty meters away.

“Captain Kyle...”

Several patrol members looked at Kyle with odd expressions.

It really was a murloc, but its condition was bizarre.

The murloc wasn’t wounded, but its condition was clearly poor—wrinkled and cracked-skinned.

It looked... like a sun-dried fish?

It was currently lying on the ground, half-dead. When it saw the group approaching, its eyes flashed with hostility, and it let out a weird shriek as it rushed toward them—

—crawling.

Its speed was slower than Kyle’s casual walk.

The patrol members glanced at Kyle uncertainly, unsure of what to do.

This was the first time they’d seen a murloc in such a strange state. They’d seen many injured murlocs, but one like this—unwounded yet half-dead—was completely new.

Was it sick?

Kyle hesitated for a moment, but didn’t raise his gun. Instead, he picked up the brass whistle hanging from his neck and blew it.

It was the warning whistle.

The patrol members were a little surprised. The murloc clearly wasn’t much of a threat—why sound the alarm?

Soon, the sound of metal grinding echoed in the distance. A Banshee clad in heavy armor and armed with a steam rifle appeared far away. Her figure rapidly grew larger, and in a flash, she arrived before them.

The patrol soldiers took a collective step back. They had never been to the battlefield. Though they had seen Banshees from afar and glimpsed them in battle, facing a charging heavy-armored Banshee directly—it was a shock beyond words.