Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

This ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍was a building somewhat different in style from other churches.

There ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍were no towering spires, no pointed arches, and the roof was no longer a ribbed vault but instead a square, box-like structure.

Thick ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍pipes covered the exterior façade, interwoven with numerous mechanical structures.

For ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍some reason, upon seeing this building, the few of them inexplicably let out a sigh of relief, even feeling a faint sense of reassurance.

It ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍somewhat reminded them of Castel.

But ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍upon closer inspection, they all frowned.

All of them had passed the Advanced Class examination. Gaia needed no further introduction—her attainments in mechanical engineering and chemistry were profound, and she served as the chief engineer of the military factory.

Zoe had come from the School. Not only had she attended the Advanced Class, she had even taught it. She might have fallen slightly short in research and development, but her foundational knowledge was extremely solid.

Erwin, though originally a soldier from the training unit, had legitimately passed the entrance examination into The Imperial Truth, and combined with the strong learning atmosphere within the Church Guard, his practical knowledge was by no means lacking.

Thus, they all recognized the awkwardness of these mechanical structures.

Take the steam pipelines, for instance. The flanges on them should have been used to connect two pipe segments, yet here they appeared inexplicably in large clusters along certain sections, while long stretches beside them had none at all.

Or the valve discs and levers—both used to control opening degrees—were installed in pairs. Not only did this fail to increase safety redundancy, they instead interfered with one another.

Or those gear assemblies. Clearly, adding a single transmission shaft would have solved the problem, yet they insisted on stacking a mass of gears with differing gear ratios. Aside from wasting efficiency, their purpose was utterly incomprehensible.

It was as if

someone who understood nothing about machinery had simply piled up mechanical elements by instinct.

It was not true machinery, but merely “mechanical flavor.”

Precisely because the three of them understood these fundamental principles, they found it unbearably awkward. It felt almost like a form of blasphemy, utterly stripped of the simplicity and practical beauty inherent to industry.

Gaia even traced the piping carefully for quite some time, yet still failed to deduce its operational logic.

It resembled the design drafts drawn during episodes by patients suffering from Castel Syndrome on the island—mad, chaotic, and utterly incomprehensible.

Hela did not notice their strange expressions. She stepped forward, pulled a lever, kicked a butterfly valve twice, recited a few lines of scripture, then accepted a wrench from someone nearby and violently smashed it against a dent in the pipeline!

Under Gaia’s stunned gaze, a lump of white, viscous paste was expelled from the pipe onto a tray held by a believer.

“Th-This… how was that done? You just opened that valve, but then closed half of the one below it. This side is connected, but it’s branched—so the other side—”

Gaia’s gaze fell upon the carefully maintained dent from just now, and suddenly a look of realization appeared on her face. “Oh—”

“That strike just now shook the previous valve loose. The liquid inside was already flowing, so the opening degree increased further. Under the water hammer effect, the pressure on the other side would spike momentarily—just enough to squeeze out this ointment.”

Her cheek twitched. For a moment, she did not know how to put it into words.

As the Lord had once said, this was “the equipment running on bugs.”

And not just one or two—one bug triggered a cascade of other bugs. Several bugs layered together, and somehow, it worked normally.

Gaia looked at the wrench that was being carefully stored away. Several believers dressed in long robes patterned with gears immediately surged forward, reverently wiping the sacred dent while chanting passages from the Holy Text.

This slightly rusted wrench, this dent—they were both “special.”

Suddenly, she understood something.

At a specific time, one had to use this specific wrench to strike this dent at a specific angle and with a specific force in order to achieve a specific effect.

Because one layer of bugs was connected to another, no one knew exactly which part was responsible. It might even be that the damage on the wrench shifted its center of gravity unevenly, producing two additional harmonics in the vibration of the strike, allowing the pipeline to function properly.

Thus everything had to follow a fixed procedure. Scripture had to be recited. The mind had to be devout. This entire redundant, incomprehensible method had to be followed in order to activate the machine.

If the wrench were lost, if the dent were altered, if the technique were lost to history—then it could never be used again.

She suddenly understood the contempt in the Prince’s eyes that day.

Indeed, he had been right. The Mechanical Sanctum was merely a corpse already dead—its sheer enormity simply made people temporarily forget its death.

“Please wait a moment. I will apply the sacred oil and perform maintenance.”

Hela smiled as she spoke, skillfully removing her eyeball and placing it into the white paste.

She carefully set a small booklet before her but did not open it. Gaia glanced at it and saw written upon it the words: “User Manual—Parts Replacement and Maintenance.”

Soon, she had cleaned the filth from her body and applied lubricating oil—holy lubricating oil—between the gears.

Now her entire body exuded the pungent fragrance of grease. The believers of the Mechanical Sanctum beside her appeared even more devout, a trace of fanaticism entering their eyes.

Even their chanting grew louder.

After completing the maintenance, she uttered a few more prayers, concluding the ritual before standing at the great doors.

She pulled the lever at the entrance. The complex mechanical structure on the door clattered several times—and then… did not move.

Several Sanctum believers immediately rushed forward, carefully grasping the intricately patterned handles welded onto the door. They lifted it and slid it aside to both ends.

At this point, even Erwin—the least mechanically inclined among them—could no longer hold himself together.

Were these believers also part of the door-opening mechanism?

“Please enter, everyone. This is the Gear Sanctum, the preaching hall of the Mechanical Sanctum. There are also rest chambers prepared for guests.”

They followed her inside. The interior was still decorated in “mechanical flavor,” but this time no one paid attention.

Their gazes all fell upon the elevated platform at the center of the room.

It was a circular platform shaped like a gear. Upon it stood a long table and a blackboard.

Before the blackboard, a “person” was writing while explaining.

There was not a shred of flesh upon him. He was entirely constructed of machinery—fine gears, transmission mechanisms, intricate hydraulic pipes, and limbs of elegant, streamlined simplicity.

He had not been crafted with meticulous human likeness, but only roughly imitated the general outline. For instance, his hands were not five fingers, but practical clamp-like appendages capable of opening and closing.

A slightly rigid voice issued from a horn at his neck.

“Students, today we will discuss the relationship between rejection reactions caused by metal implantation and hormonal levels within the body, as well as the resulting mental disorders, somatization, and phantom limb pain.”