Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

The Banshees dispersed with laughter, and Hughes also closed the Mind Link with a smile.

Nini’s temperament was a little too impatient, which was exactly why Hughes had Gaia follow her—to add an extra layer of insurance. The young girl carried a stubbornness etched deep into her bones.

She had always been the one who could uphold her bottom line the most. Whether facing the workers or the Banshees, she would step forward without hesitation and insist on her demands, never backing down.

That was also why Hughes had entrusted her with the explosives production line. It wasn’t just because she had the best grades in chemistry, but more importantly because of that persistence in her character.

Chemistry was already a dangerous discipline, and explosives even more so—practically zero tolerance for error. One mistake and the entire factory could be blown sky-high. There was no room for carelessness.

There were many people in the territory who were more skilled or better researchers, but only with Gaia overseeing the production line could Hughes feel at ease.

Perhaps it was for this reason that the now-deceased Chloe had insisted Gaia join the Moths Chasing Fire.

“Lord Hughes!”

A shout pulled Hughes back to reality. He turned to see Tartaglia walking into the office with a freshly drawn blueprint in his hands.

“This is my latest design. It greatly improves feasibility while retaining most of the performance from the previous version. With Castel’s production capacity, this version is entirely doable.”Hughes turned his attention to the blueprint, his fingers tracing over the various components and facilities marked on it.

In the following months, those roughly annotated components on paper turned into precise parts delivered to the factories. Amid the roar of the Clamorers, they came off the production lines as massive metal structures.

These metal devices were transported to pre-reserved locations across the island and gradually assembled into a colossal machine.

Its core was the location of the original central furnace, directly beneath the newly renovated main cathedral. Now, a cavity had been excavated beneath the island to house the furnace and its auxiliary steam chambers. Encircling this cavity was a dense network of conduits.

These newly dug conduit paths were not just simple tunnels anymore. They were significantly taller than the previous ones, with rows of steel pipelines fixed to the ceilings.

These were steam pipes extending to every corner of the island, forged from iron and connected with massive flanges, bolted tightly together and spread across the territory.

From an aerial view of the island, the new furnace and its steam pipe network resembled an enormous spiderweb. At its center, the furnace acted like an eternally pulsing heart, pumping steam—the lifeblood of industry—through every part of Castel.

Once this system was completed, the number of Clamorers in Castel’s factories would decrease substantially. The previously distributed steam power system would be entirely converted into a centralized supply.

Centralized supply, centralized maintenance—greater efficiency and lower failure rates.

Beneath Castel’s soil lay a dense network of steam pipes and steel equipment. Hughes sometimes thought this wasn’t much different from the extraordinary powers of Transcendents. Beneath a seemingly normal exterior, it hid an industrial marvel beyond the understanding of ordinary people.

If someone’s gaze could truly penetrate the earth and rock to see the real face of Castel, they would likely lose their sanity from the sheer complexity of the steam network.

Fortunately, Castel’s islanders couldn’t.

After experiencing the baptism of war, the literacy rate on Castel had reached nearly one hundred percent—Hughes had forcibly implemented a literacy program under the pretext of war. Whether in the factories or the Holy Guard, literacy classes were held regularly.

Castel’s total population wasn’t large, which made this miraculous feat possible. Even by the twenty-first century, the United States hadn’t surpassed a 90% literacy rate.

While a large part of this success owed to the threat of cognitive interference, the effectiveness of Castel’s educational push was undeniable.

In fact, a significant portion of the population had already completed what was effectively advanced-level education. Hughes was preparing to redefine the education tier system. The current structure of Literacy Class → Advanced Class → Graduation Assessment was adequate for training engineers, but it struggled to cultivate true scientific research talent.

Castel’s top researchers were mostly trained personally by Hughes himself—more akin to a traditional apprenticeship model, which, though effective for now, wasn’t scalable. For Castel’s current population, it worked. But if expansion was to continue, the outdated system would only hold them back.

Changes were happening not only on Castel Island itself—the hoisting operation of the Heaven-Curtain Behemoth outside the island was also proceeding in an orderly fashion.

Nini and Gaia had argued countless times again, but they finally succeeded in hoisting up the monster that the Pirate King had transformed into, lifting it from the depths of the Pirate King’s Court.

Though the plan had deviated a bit from the original.

Initially, they had intended to use ropes to lift the creature. But they soon realized that the monster had fused tightly with the Pirate King’s Court. The twisted flesh had completely embedded itself into the building’s foundation.

After some discussion, Nini and Gaia came to a unified decision—they would use explosives.

The monster formed from the Pirate King wouldn’t be harmed. What had originally been a massive problem now became an advantage. No matter how intense the explosions were, they would only destroy the building, not injure the creature.

—If they damaged the monster itself, moving it would be troublesome.

So an enormous amount of explosives was delivered continuously. Nini and Gaia rarely agreed on anything, but both had an unshakable reverence for yield.

After a full-blown war, nearly everyone on Castel had developed yield worship. The massive bombs dropped by airships, the Banshee squadrons tossing explosive packs to form creeping bombardments—even the seemingly unstoppable Sea Urchin Monsters would shy away from such firepower.

If bullets couldn’t kill it, then use bombs. If one bomb couldn’t do the job, use more bombs.

What’s that? The monster wouldn’t get hurt at all?

Perfect. That meant they could pile on as many explosives as they liked.

With that mindset, Nini and Gaia stacked countless amounts of explosives under the island supporting the monster.

Even Hughes was shocked by the sheer volume—but after hesitating a moment, he didn’t stop them.

After all, this wasn’t wartime. Even if some explosives were wasted, it didn’t matter. Production capacity was more than enough.

Besides, Hughes was also curious—just what kind of explosion would it be?

And so, one day, a massive explosion rang out from the Pirate King’s Court.

The Banshees and islanders stayed far away, and even the airships hovered so far off they were barely visible. Hughes, standing by a bunker, saw a mushroom cloud that stirred memories.

It was near dusk, but that blazing light illuminated the world anew for a brief moment.