Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

Here is the natural English translation:

“‘Hao’ (号) meant what? Wasn’t that usually how ships were designated? Could it be that…”

“That… that thing was man-made? A creation of humans?”

“Of course. Look, it’s about to dock at the air harbor.”

The Holy Guard extended a hand and pointed forward. Hunter followed the direction of his finger.

It was a bit farther away. Hunter had been pondering the rail tracks earlier and had not looked toward that side.

There lay a vast and empty flatland, with enormous symbols painted on the ground, along with rows of glowing lights serving as guidance.

Many thick mooring cables were fixed to the ground, some tied to a series of oval-shaped objects.

Looking carefully… those oval objects seemed… to be flying in the sky!?

Could it be…

Hunter hurriedly looked up. The “Celestial Behemoth” above his head was so large it seemed to have no end, but looking more closely, it also appeared oval-shaped. Because it was so close, Hunter could see many details.

For instance, the constantly rotating blades; the fierce eyes and snarling teeth were actually painted on; beneath the dark-yellow coated skin hung a square cockpit where silhouettes of people moved.

This… this really was…

But wasn’t the sky supposed to be a forbidden realm to humans? Even the Great Sage Bruno of old could not conquer the heavens…

Hunter instinctively began analyzing what kind of machinery could achieve such an effect—what kind of steam engine could drive rotors and lift something into the sky.

One idea after another surfaced, only to be denied instantly.

The more he thought, the more curious he became; the more curious he became, the more he had to think.

Bloodshot lines slowly crept into his wide eyes, and his pupils began to tremble.

No, no—impossible. Absolutely impossible!

Hunter covered his ears, shaking his head in terror.

This could not possibly be a creation of humans. The colossal beast in the sky seemed to slowly open its mouth, as if it would bite him into pieces!

Everything before him twisted. Just as his will was sinking into darkness, a glimmer of light suddenly appeared within his skull.

It came from the Tongue of Thorns, the warning of that mysterious man resurfacing in his mind—

“When you are lost, silently chant the name of my Lord. The fog before your eyes shall naturally disperse, and you will not waver.”

“‘My Lord’s name’… what is it?”

“Hughes.”

The Holy Guard beside him answered without hesitation. A moment later he realized something was wrong, and hurriedly explained:

“Wait, I mean the lord, the lord! Lord Hughes isn’t a god—everyone knows that. Lord Hughes himself emphasized that repeatedly. I wasn’t saying he was—uh, you… you didn’t misunderstand, right?”

Ignoring the young man’s flustered explanation, Hunter only felt a deafening bell explode in his mind. The frantic thoughts were instantly driven away, and reason returned to his body. The crashing sound of waves faded from his ears.

My Lord’s name is Hughes.

Hunter lifted his head, looking at the giant, ferocious construct above him. This time, his gaze no longer held fear—something else had appeared within.

It actually worked!

Of course he had not believed that man’s words, nor did he treat Hughes as any so-called lord. That man and the Tongue of Thorns were, most likely, members of some heretical cult.

Cults—one must not believe a single word. Every noble knew that.

But if silently chanting the name made it effective… then using it was not a bad idea.

Besides, such a gigantic and sacred construct could not possibly have been built by mere mortals. Perhaps this Lord Hughes truly possessed something extraordinary.

Woooo!

A bright whistle sounded. A train appeared on the distant tracks, and with a clattering rhythm, it slowly entered the station.

Taking a deep breath and adjusting his mood, Hunter stood up from the ground, patted off the dirt, exchanged a few words with the Holy Guard, and boarded the train with them.

In the crowd at the station, a man wearing a monocle revealed a strange expression.

He removed the lens and wiped it while muttering softly:

“Strange… his mind stabilized just like that? I thought he would lose control again. Could his will be unusually strong?”

“Forget it. As long as he didn’t go mad, it’s good. I should hurry back and continue the experiment. I must settle the issue with the shell as soon as possible.”

Richard shook his head and disappeared into the flow of people.

Hunter sat in the train seat, feeling an inexplicable sense of calm.

After hesitating for a moment, he decided to probe subtly:

“Are there many cults on Castel?”

“Which one do you mean?” one Holy Guard asked instinctively, but his companion answered seriously:

“Of course Castel has no cults! Whether it’s Lord Hughes or us of the Holy Guard, we’re all suppressing cults. Why, did you hear some rumor?”

“No, no. I just heard you say earlier that Lord Hughes says he’s not a god?”

“Yes!” This time both of them looked serious. “Lord Hughes is not a god—that is what Lord Hughes personally declared. Any statement that distorts this must be sent to the Tribunal.”

“Mm, perhaps this could be considered a doctrine of the Imperial Truth.”

Hunter frowned. Why did this matter of not being a god have to be emphasized again and again?

Not only the Holy Guard, even those cultists of the Tongue of Thorns—those lunatics who revered Hughes as their lord—strictly forbade treating him as a god.

And what was wrong with being called a god? There was no Candlelight Church here. Who would care if one called oneself a god?

Hunter found it baffling. They needed to control even this? Wasn’t it simply not regarding Hughes as a god? What was difficult about that?

Feeling confused and unable to ask further, he turned his sight to the scenery outside.

He had ridden trains before, but the Northlands were flat, and he had always been kept under guard, so he had never really looked at the view.

Sitting still in a rapidly moving train, watching the scenery on both sides—this feeling was truly novel.

A carriage shook violently; even with many springs added, it still made one’s backside sore. Yet this enormous train was incredibly stable.

He had not thought about these things before, but now that he had nothing to do, he pondered for a moment and understood.

It must be due to the tracks.

The ground was always uneven, but laying tracks filtered out these vibrations. It was said that Rhine’s horse-drawn railcars were famous for their smoothness. It should be the same principle.

This was what human creations should be like. Hunter, being a scholar in mechanical fields with a strong foundation, could not even analyze the flying airship—there must be something wrong with it.

No—he must not think about that. The memory of what happened just now still lingered in fear.

He might as well look more at the scenery outside.

Hunter looked outside at the towering, gigantic High Walls stretching one after another. His brows furrowed.

Why were there so many walls built on the island? From the looks of it, they seemed to extend toward the sea?