Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

At Blood Harbor, a merchant had a stroke of bad luck today—he was struck on the head by a falling pole while passing through an alley.  

In a luxurious mansion, a duke stared blankly at the pot of mulled wine, completely forgetting about the guests he had left waiting.  

On a battlefield in the western part of the empire, a certain general, overcome with rage, hurled his weapon straight into the sky.  

In the Gem Bay of Storm Ocean, the pirate king inexplicably spent the entire day playing with water in his bath.  

The weather was clear today.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened.  

Yet beyond this peaceful world, within a grand and majestic palace, a heavy and exquisitely crafted long table stood at its center.  

On either side of the table were high-backed chairs, with several shadowy figures seated motionlessly, their heads lowered as if they were asleep.  

At the very head of the table sat a massive throne, encrusted with gold and gemstones.

Upon it, an ancient figure slowly opened his eyes.  His gaze, dull and unfocused, drifted to one side of the long table.  

There, in the flickering candlelight, sat a shadowy figure, his face illuminated.  

Curly brown short hair, clothes stained with mud, and a gaping wound in his chest, a gruesome sight.  

It was Hughes, who had just died.  

The figure on the throne remained in a daze for a moment before his face suddenly twitched, and his entire demeanor came to life, as if something had gradually entered his body.  

The next second, a voice filled with shock rang out.  

”Dead? I died again? I was just randomly killed like that!?”  

”Damn it, why did he kill me so suddenly, this doesn’t make sense!? I clearly demonstrated such exceptional mechanical talent. At the very least, he should’ve interrogated me for knowledge before making a move, right? Wasn’t he even the least bit curious?”  

The figure on the throne cursed under his breath and raised his head to look at Hughes, who sat motionless like a puppet.

The lifeless boy gazed back at him, his eyes empty.  

”I remember that strange priest calling me a lackey of an evil god?”  

”Yeah, this is probably a common tactic of the Church, labeling someone as a heretic before making a move.”  

”Wait, the Church? Could it be that they’re suppressing technological progress and eliminating those who could advance mechanical innovation? That doesn’t make sense, though. That priest himself had many mechanical prosthetics, he should understand the importance of mechanical technology. Something isn’t right.”  

He frowned.  

That suddenly appearing priest was full of mysteries.

Ever since he had transmigrated to this world, this was the first time he had encountered someone so peculiar.  

”What a shame, another body lost. I’ll have to initiate another descent.”  

He looked away, and Hughes, the lifeless puppet, lowered his head again, staring blankly at the table.  

There were already four others like him seated at the long table, different in appearance and attire, yet identical in one thing:  

They were all ”Hughes.”  

Hughes was a transmigrator.

In his past life, he had lived on Earth.

One time, after staying up late working overtime, he suddenly blacked out, only to awaken in this grand, enigmatic palace, seated upon the throne.  

The palace was lavishly decorated, filled with rare treasures, but unfortunately, Hughes could not touch any of them, for some reason, he was completely bound to the throne, unable to move even a single step away.  

Fortunately, Hughes—Hughes upon the throne—seemed to have no need for food, water, or any bodily functions.  

But he wasn’t entirely powerless.

When he directed his gaze toward the shadowy figures seated in the chairs, they would lift their heads and meet his eyes, allowing him to choose [Descent].  

”Descent” was like transmigrating into a new body, starting a new life.

Hughes scanned the chairs one by one—some held burly middle-aged men, others old men with white hair, priests in white robes, and even young men who had just begun to open their hearts.  

Each body was different, and every new vessel was chosen at random.  

Hughes had no idea what purpose these descents served—he only experimented because he had no other choice.  

But this time, he had a different thought.  

”That Church priest just now was incredibly strange.”  

”He made his move in an instant, piercing straight through my chest—I couldn’t even see his movements. Can mechanical enhancements really grant such speed and power?”  

Back on Earth, Hughes knew a thing or two about mechanical prosthetics, and such capabilities were simply impossible.

Moreover, that priest’s mechanical modifications had been crude—the sight of those oversized gears was still fresh in Hughes’ memory.  

”A priest… The Church… This is getting interesting.”  

”The Church possesses supernatural power. If I can make contact with it, perhaps I can break free from this throne.”  

”No, maybe it’s not just the Church.”  

A hint of frustration appeared on Hughes’ face.  

”What a waste. I finally got a body in the imperial capital, but who knows how long it’ll take to find another one that can access a factory.”  

This world was just beginning to enter the early stages of industrialization, only a few scattered factories had emerged in its most developed regions.  

Most places had only just barely escaped the darkness of the Middle Ages.

In some of Hughes’ previous descents, serfdom was still in practice.  

From this perspective, factory workers—despite their meager average lifespan of thirty years—were already considered fortunate.  

”So, what should I do next?”  

He stared at the lifeless bodies seated along the long table, feeling lost.

He had been in this world for some time now.

At first, he was eager to explore, but now, he only wanted to go home.  

The problem was, the bodies he received were entirely random—meaning that 99% of the time, he ended up as a suffering commoner.  

And no matter the era, the fate of the lower class was always the same: silent endurance.  

Hughes had vast scientific and technological knowledge from the modern world, yet every attempt to utilize it ended with a lifeless corpse.  

This world left no room for the weak.  

Hughes was utterly disappointed.

Supernatural forces were now his final hope.  

”I need to make contact with the supernatural. If possible, I need to find a way home.”

Hughes’ eyes grew resolute. ”At the very least, I have to escape from this throne. I can’t stay trapped here forever.”  

This world had no phones, no internet—he missed Earth.  

”Time to begin the next descent.”  

Taking a deep breath, he made his decision and turned to an empty high-backed chair.  

The surrounding mist swirled, faint friction noises emanating from within. Then, a hand reached out from the fog, pressing against the table.  

As the mist quickly receded, a slender and handsome young man appeared in the chair. He smiled elegantly and met Hughes’ gaze.  

Hughes’ eyes lit up—this was his new body.  

”Judging by the clothes, he’s probably a noble. Finally, some good luck!”  

”Soap, glass, gunpowder, building factories—let the tide of steel sweep across this fantasy world! I can’t wait!”  

”Prepare to witness the brilliance of science and truth!”  

In the next instant, Hughes’ vision darkened.  

A new body.

A new descent.

A fresh beginning.  

Hughes was gone, and silence once again fell upon the throne room.  

After an unknown length of time, the discarded body—the lifeless Hughes with a gaping wound in his chest—suddenly shuddered, his puppet-like, vacant eyes trembling ever so slightly.