Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

Bettys spoke a few words in panic, but Granny ignored her, only laughing cheerfully as she lifted her high into the air. Bettys, frightened, covered her eyes with both hands, yet couldn’t help but peek through her fingers.

Her gaze passed over the heads of the crowd—it was her first time being so high.

Bettys was very short; even when standing on a box, she barely reached the counter of the Fried-Fish Stall, and when handing fried fish to customers, she had to tiptoe.

Her heart thumped rapidly. Fortunately, Granny’s hands were steady. Bettys carefully looked toward the platform.

The train hadn’t yet arrived. Rows of fully armed Expeditionary Army soldiers stood nearby, even setting up several machine guns facing the empty opposite side.

They didn’t have to wait long. Accompanied by a sharp whistle, a train approached from afar.

Bettys widened her eyes. She felt that this train seemed somehow different.

Trains heading toward the Northlands usually had armored engines—several machine-gun mounts, a few Dragon’s Breath Cannons, and ramming horns for clearing the tracks. As long as the railway remained intact, they could withstand the assault of an entire army without fear.

But the train returning from the Northlands today had its machine guns unusually aimed toward its own carriages.

The Expeditionary Army treated Bazel with extreme caution. Although they found no other abilities in him apart from resurrection, they still carefully prepared a train specifically for transporting him.

Machine guns were mounted at both ends of the carriage transporting Bazel. Inside, apart from the crate containing Bazel, there were only fully armed Banshees.

Two Expeditionary Army squads stood by in the rear carriages, ready to respond immediately to any incident.

As the train drew closer, two lines of heavily armored Banshees parted the Expeditionary Army soldiers and neatly assembled on the platform.

The train came to a slow stop.

Several squads of soldiers immediately took positions at the doors with weapons in hand. After a moment, a Banshee stepped out, holding… a box?

Bettys blinked in confusion at the Banshee with the box. Could that be Bazel?

Her question was quickly answered when another, much taller Banshee bent down and stepped out from the carriage—holding half a Skeleton in her hand.

Wait—a Skeleton? Half of one!?

Bettys’ eyes went wide.

Most people in Blood Harbor came from the Lower District. They weren’t strangers to death; seeing corpses and skeletons didn’t scare them.

But this Skeleton… seemed to still be moving?

Looking closely, it wasn’t complete—it had only a skull, a section of spine, and part of the ribcage. The limbs had been detached.

Even so, it still struggled in Ash’s grasp.

However, the moment Ash stepped out of the carriage and the Skeleton was exposed to the sunlight of Blood Harbor, it froze.

There was no expression on its skull, but the gaping jaw and rigid body made its shock unmistakable.

What was it shocked about?

Curious, Bettys followed its gaze.

Two long ranks of nearly a hundred Banshees, clad in heavy armor, their towering steel figures exuding a divine presence.

Beside them stood squads of the Expeditionary Army, a full row of Gatling Guns pointing their black muzzles straight at the carriage—dark holes that seemed ready to swallow anything.

Beyond the Banshees and soldiers, past the crowd of onlooking citizens, rose the towering customs building, the school complex, and rows upon rows of factory buildings.

A forest of steel and iron—a world built of concrete.

Chimneys belched black smoke into the sky, and the gantry cranes rumbled to life, hauling massive containers from the harbor onto the floating steel platforms.

Those were Castel’s new cargo ships. Tata, who believed that “bigger is better,” never completed his sea fortress, but his cargo ship designs grew larger with every build.

Bettys withdrew her gaze and scratched her head.

Nothing strange there—it was all perfectly ordinary. What was that Skeleton so shocked about?

Of course Bazel was shocked. As he looked upon Blood Harbor, his gaze fell upon the nearby little girl. She, too, was looking at Blood Harbor, but her expression was calm and familiar, as though this was nothing new. That made Bazel even more incredulous.

“This… where is this?”

“Blood Harbor—a city recently built by Castel. You will stand trial here,” said a Steel Giant beside him.

Bazel lifted his head, studying those escorting him seriously for the first time.

“You’re not humans. So tall, six arms, and tails—and armed! Why aren’t the civilians afraid of you?”

He looked toward the distant crowd. Their eyes burned with fervor. The way they gazed upon the Banshees carried respect, reverence, and admiration—but no fear.

“Why should they fear me?” Ash asked coolly.

Bazel choked on his words, unable to respond.

He had once selected elite troops from his army to form an independent unit. When those men marched through the streets, the people fled in terror, as if facing devils from hell—desperate to get out of the way.

The more feared a military unit was, the stronger it became.

Yet these Banshees were not feared by the people of Blood Harbor. Were they not strong?

Ash’s grip remained steady on his skull, her fingers easily piercing small holes into the bone, her entire hand locked into his cranium.

This was the strongest Transcendent army he had ever seen—so vast in number, of an alien race, yet not feared.

Bazel’s mind felt in chaos, his understanding of the world collapsing.

“What are those things in the distance? Why are the buildings so tall? Do people live in them? And those things reaching into the sky—are they on fire? Why are they smoking?”

As he stared at everything before him, it was as if a heart trembled within his hollow chest cavity. He had always believed he lost merely because Lina deceived him—but now, seeing Blood Harbor, he began to suspect something absurd.

Perhaps he hadn’t been deceived by Lina. Perhaps, even in a direct confrontation, Castel might have defeated him.

No—that was impossible. Absolutely impossible. His Winter Wolves were the strongest in the Northlands. The tactics he himself invented earned him the recognition of the Three Grand Dukes of the North.

Ash was not one for conversation. Bazel thought his questions would go unanswered—but her cold voice replied.

“Those tall pillars are chimneys. The smoke is normal. Beneath them are factories. Inside are steam engines—they burn fuel to boil water, and the steam drives machinery to produce and work for Castel.”

Ash paused slightly.

“And that… will be where you’ll be working in the future.”

“Factories?”

“No. The boilers.”