Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

Wriggling, White Bones.

Hodge found it somewhat difficult to understand how those two words could even be combined.

But he very quickly no longer needed to think about it. Jogging in small steps, Hodge looked back toward the White Mist behind them, his face turning ashen.

“Damn it, damn it—how can they run this fast!?”

Earlier, the estimate he and Ash and Gwen had made was mostly based on the speed at which the mist moved.

But the White Bones pursuing them clearly were not normal.

“You look carefully—those mists aren’t fast, but the White Bones are!” Gwen stretched out her hand and pointed into the distance.

The White Mist drifted forward like a layer of gauze curtain. Yet the cluster of wriggling White Bones were like a semi-trailer truck crashing into the curtain of gauze, dragging the whole curtain forward at high speed, pulling out long arcs on both sides.

“Indeed. The White Mist is only rolling toward the south, but those White Bones are chasing us.” Ash’s voice sounded from above, and Hodge looked back at her.

The number of White Bones did not seem large, but they still succeeded in dragging the entire mass of White Mist forward. And their target was extremely clear: the retreating Expeditionary Army!

“No. We can’t keep going like this!” Hodge grew anxious. The White Bones were far faster than their earlier prediction—continuing at this rate, they might not even be able to check whether the train arrived!

“How far are they now?” Hodge lifted his head and asked Ash. She was a Transcendent, her vision far superior to that of a Mortal.

“Less than five kilometers. They’ve already passed the marker point we left earlier.”

“Five kilometers… looks like we’ll have to clash after all.”

The soldiers of the Expeditionary Army clearly also sensed something was wrong.

An ‘urgent march’ did not actually mean moving extremely fast. At least, it would never reach the point of jogging. First, such speed consumed too much stamina; second, it made it easy for people to fall behind.

But the orders being sent down from above were growing more and more urgent.

They had already advanced more than ten kilometers in one breath without rest. They were still in decent condition now and could endure—but they definitely could not keep this up for long.

Even the dullest soldier noticed something was off. Such abnormal orders usually meant the situation was extremely urgent.

Either there were friendly forces ahead needing rapid reinforcement… or there was an Enemy behind them that could not be resisted.

Only the well-informed could verify the former, but the latter required only a single glance backward.

And soon more and more soldiers discovered the White Mist chasing behind them.

White Mist. Northlands. Pursuing. Put those together, and the answer presented itself outright.

The White Calamity.

At that, none of the soldiers doubted the orders any longer. No one complained about the lack of rest. They only hated that they weren’t born with two more legs—or a few sets of wheels.

But the next order confused them.

“Turn around and fire? Sir, are you certain?”

A soldier asked while jogging, confusion on his face.

“Yes. But wait for a moment. You can first raise the rear sight—raise it to the maximum. No rush to chamber the bullets yet. Be careful while running. Don’t misfire.”

The Resistance Army’s Bolt-Action Rifles all used iron sights. Set to maximum elevation, the sight reached 1,300 yards. At that distance, forget Mortals— even Transcendents found it nearly impossible to aim. In fact, beyond 800 yards was nearly the limit of precision. None of the soldiers had ever pushed their sights this high.

“No problem, Sir. We’ll obey the order. It’s just… I’m a bit confused. Will bullets be effective against the White Calamity? It’s only a mass of mist. The newly added entries in the Holy Text clearly state that no weapon can block the White Calamity!”

“Just open fire. We don’t carry that many bullets, and Lady Ash wouldn’t waste them.”

The name “Ash” instantly shut every soldier’s mouth. The Holy Guard had a strong culture of reverence toward leaders, and that habit had spread to the Expeditionary Army. And Ash’s name was, in a sense, synonymous with Explosive Yield.

Although Hodge was the captain of this company, people seemed to have forgotten that temporarily.

After they ran for a while longer, Ash’s cold voice suddenly echoed from overhead:

“Stop. Prepare to fire. Directly to the rear at six o’clock—aim at the White Mist. Fire freely for five rounds, then resume marching!”

The soldiers immediately halted. They had already made preparations and changed formation earlier. Now they only needed to turn around and release the safety to fire.

Five bullets made exactly one magazine’s worth—and was the limit of continuous firing for a Bolt-Action Rifle. Although they could reload with a clip, the Expeditionary Army lacked time more than anything. Better to fire five rounds first and observe the effect.

Aiming was difficult for them now—they were all panting—but at least they carried little weight, so they could still hold steady.

They squeezed the trigger, cycled the bolt, and with slightly trembling hands fired off all five bullets quickly. The Expeditionary Army had no time to rest and could only turn again and continue jogging.

But Ash remained where she was, gazing toward the increasingly close White Bones behind them.

“How is it? Did it work?”

Hodge was drenched in cold sweat. The White Bones were only a little over a thousand yards away. The train showed no sign of arriving. If the shooting had no effect—

Hodge pulled out the Steel Plate printed with his name and basic information. If escape became impossible, Ash could hang it on the Memorial Stele atop Castel’s main church.

“It worked.”

Ash’s voice was cold as ice, emotionless—yet to Hodge it felt like the blazing sun at noon, warming his chilled body.

“The hit rate wasn’t high, but the coverage was decent. The pursuit momentum of those White Bones has already been stopped. Even the mist slowed down. Looks like I won’t need to intervene.”

Ash spoke while slowly hanging her heavy machine gun back onto the mount on her armor.

They had brought a good number of heavy-machine-gun rounds, but they were far more precious than the Bolt-Action Rifle bullets. Saving them if possible was best.

“Great… great!”

Hodge looked as if he had just survived disaster. The pursuit speed of those White Bones was simply too fast, giving them no chance to breathe. If things continued, they would have been dragged to death—it was only a matter of time.

Fortunately, they could not withstand bullets.

Out of caution, the Expeditionary Army did not stop and continued marching forward. But soon, bad news arrived again.

“Those White Bones are chasing again,” Ash suddenly said.

“What!?”

Hodge froze, forcibly calmed himself, and tried to analyze: “The earlier shots must have only taken down the front row. The ones behind simply continued the chase… It’s fine. As long as we keep firing. Ash, their numbers aren’t large, right?”

“Not large—just slightly more than us.”