Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

“You go first. I’ll cover you,” Ash said in a low, firm voice.

She had already discarded the machine gun and switched to the Dragon’s Breath Cannon. Although this weapon had a short range, its attack spread in a wide fan. Each time Ash fired, she twisted her body and wrist, letting the flame jet sweep across a large area.

This was the Cannon-Fist Technique invented by Nini—highly effective but extremely demanding on one’s physique. Every time Nini tried it, she would end up straining her waist.

“No choice left—let’s give it everything!” Hodge turned toward the few remaining soldiers around him. There were only a handful of them left.

“We’ll tie the rope ladder around our waists. Then the airship will rise. The moment we’re out of the firing line—we detonate the explosives!”

“Lady Ash, please inform the airship!”

There were Banshees aboard the airship, and Ash had already established a Mind Link with them earlier, allowing messages to be transmitted instantly.

“I already told them—they’re ascending now!”

The White Bones were nearly upon them. The heavy machine gun rattled relentlessly, but more skeletons surged forward than were blasted apart.

“It’s now or never!”

The steam engine aboard the airship roared thunderously. The operator instantly jettisoned all ballast, and the entire airship surged upward!

At the same time, the people on board pulled the rope ladder with all their might—Hodge, Gwen, and the others rose more than ten meters in a blink.

But the tide of White Bones surged upward too, lunging toward those hanging figures.

Ash looked down at the monsters below—and suddenly released her grip.

“Lady Ash!”

“What are you doing?!”

Ash didn’t answer. As she plunged downward, just before falling into the swarm of White Bones, her six arms whipped out the Dragon’s Breath Cannons—firing all at once!

The recoil erupted instantly—all directed downward. Even Ash’s heavy body was propelled upward by the tremendous force, catching up with the others who were rising. She casually tossed aside the cannons and seized the rope ladder firmly.

Everyone stared in stunned silence. Even Gwen could only feel awe—such courage and resolve were beyond her reach.

No wonder Ash was acknowledged as Castel’s strongest warrior.

Seeing Ash safely ascend, Hodge finally exhaled in relief—still half in disbelief. They had survived? Surrounded by the White Mist—and yet still alive?

Not only that, but his soldiers had returned almost entirely unscathed. The casualties were so few they were nearly negligible.

Once this battle was over, he swore he would return to Castel for a long rest—this was far too nerve-wracking.

But just as he began to imagine the peaceful days of convalescence, a soldier’s horrified cry snapped him back to reality.

“By Lord Hughes—what in the world is that monster…?”

Hodge lowered his head—and froze, as though drenched in a bucket of icy water.

Countless bones were knitting together into a gigantic Skeleton. A massive arm made of White Bones was reaching up to seize them!

There hadn’t been enough time—the Skeleton had only formed its upper body, but even half of it filled the entire landscape below!

Gwen’s machine gun roared again. Ash’s Dragon’s Breath Cannons thundered as well. Even the airship above dared to drop Aerial Bombs—but before that vast bony hand, all their attacks were insignificant.

The Skeleton was assembling faster and faster, the White Mist closing in at a terrifying speed. At this rate, they were doomed.

Even if the Skeleton didn’t kill them, the rapidly converging White Mist would swallow them forever.

Some soldiers screamed, others prayed. Hodge pressed his lips together and slowly closed his eyes.

Beneath her armor, Ash’s expression was cold as an iceberg—utterly unwavering. She turned southward, toward Castel.

“My Lord… forgive me. I have failed to keep my promise. I can no longer protect you.”

Her six arms dropped to her sides.

Beside her, Gwen was still firing.

The battle had reached its most desperate point—but Gwen felt strangely detached, as if time itself had frozen for her.

She glanced downward—the Skeleton roared within a sea of writhing bones, hideous and distorted.

Then she looked up—at the blue sky, the high drifting clouds, the warm sunlight, and the great airship above.

She looked down at the heavy machine gun in her hands.

The Resistance had always lived like this: above them, the unreachable beauty of Castel; before them, an endless hell. At least, there were still friends beside her.

“It’s a mess, but… this is my life. Still, you’re here with me. So, let’s fight together—to the very last moment, my friend.”

She smiled freely, watching the encroaching White Bones. Her faithful gun roared again, ready to meet the end.

But then—she suddenly sensed something, and turned her head.

A white-haired little girl was falling rapidly through the air, passing right by her.

It looked as though she had fallen from the airship. Strange—why would there be such a small child among the Expeditionary Army?

Looking at her, Gwen felt a strange familiarity, as if she were facing her younger self—the self that never wanted to grow up.

Their eyes met—confused, searching. The girl’s lips moved, as if saying something.

The wind was too strong to hear—but somehow, Gwen knew the answer in her heart.

“Live.”

She instinctively reached out—but her hand fell short, grasping nothing.

She watched helplessly as the girl fell—plunging into the closing bony hands below. That small body was like a speck of dust before the colossal Skeleton.

These pristine White Bones… perhaps they needed a touch of red, Gwen thought vaguely.

But the next moment, her eyes widened in shock.

The massive Skeleton suddenly froze.

The writhing sea of bones beneath it stopped as well.

Then, from its bony hand, the entire Skeleton shattered into dust. A tremendous explosion erupted, radiant light engulfing it entirely. The creature howled, trying to escape—but was consumed in the blast.

A violent shockwave swept upward, hurling the airship and Gwen’s group skyward—lifting them just in time, before the White Mist closed in.

Gwen stared blankly at the churning mist below. She was alive—but it felt as though part of her had died.

Who was that white-haired little girl? Gwen didn’t know her—nor why she had leapt. Could all of this have been her doing?

Impossible. Not even Lord Isaac possessed such power.

Her eyes stung. She rubbed them absently—only to find tears on her hand.

“I… cried?”

In the bright, gentle sky—Gwen’s tears flowed uncontrollably.