Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

Richard nodded, but did not speak immediately. Instead, he led Hughes into a laboratory.  

There were many laboratories in the Eastern Test Site. As long as the Moths Chasing Fire submitted a request to Hughes, they could build a lab of their own — of course, any proposal with an outrageous budget would be sent back for revision.  

This particular laboratory belonged to Richard. Upon entering, the most eye-catching thing was a metal dissection table. Along the walls stood shelves, filled with various specimens and notes.  

Very few among the Moths Chasing Fire chose to study biology. This era wasn’t exactly enlightened — dissecting animal corpses was just about tolerable, but dissecting human bodies would almost certainly provoke hostility from mainstream society.  

Compared to technologies like the steam engine, the level of medicine here was terribly backward. When ordinary people encountered injuries or illness, they preferred going to the Church. The priests there were happy to exchange extraordinary potions for the people’s faith.  

The famed Holy Water No. 1 could quickly heal wounds — pour it into your mouth, and the injuries would begin to heal immediately.  

Simple and brutal.  

With such powerful and convenient extraordinary potions, who would bother with the thankless task of studying medicine?  

Even modern medicine on Blue Star might not match up to Holy Water in terms of efficacy.  

Therefore, talents like Richard who engaged in medical research were all the more valuable.  Richard led Hughes inside, then pulled down a large box from a shelf. Judging by its size, it was likely the one that contained the blue-haired girl.  

Richard was an extraordinary individual. Though he did not excel in direct combat, his strength still far surpassed that of ordinary people. He effortlessly opened the box, laid the girl on the dissection table, then picked up two pairs of gloves and handed one pair to Hughes, gesturing for him to put them on.  

Once Hughes was fully suited up, Richard finally began to explain, slowly and unhurriedly.  

“The term ‘shell’ originally referred to the vessel of the soul. Strictly speaking, all bodies are shells — like you and I, standing here, talking.” He pointed to them both.  

Hughes’s expression grew strange. Richard probably didn’t realize that what stood before him truly *was* just a shell.  

“Of course, those are shells that are *inhabited*.”  

“Inhabited?”  

“Yes. Inhabited shells are everywhere. But vacant shells are extremely rare.” Richard pushed up his glasses. “And vacant shells have many uses. The most important — is for hosting the descent of a Heretical God.”  

“How are vacant shells created? The soul must die?”  

“Well, that’s one way, but it must be a *non-normal* death of the soul.”  

Hughes blinked, then after a moment, realized something. “Wait... you mean, forcibly extracting the soul from the body?!”  

“Exactly. And it requires extremely cruel methods. That almost always causes the soul to shatter, and the success rate is very low. This act is considered taboo by all churches, and it’s viewed as a deeply evil practice.”  

To *forcibly extract* someone’s soul from their body?!  

Only cultists would do something so twisted… Wait — weren’t the Moths Chasing Fire considered cultists?  

Seeing Hughes’s increasingly unfriendly gaze, Richard hurried to explain, “Though the world calls us cultists, we’ve never done anything like that. All our shells come from the Church of Candlelight.”  

And that, oddly enough, was probably true.  

The worker Hughes had been killed by a priest from the Church of Candlelight. Though it was unclear what methods the Moths used, they had indeed obtained the worker Hughes from the Church and summoned a Heretical God with him.  

Even though their ritual ultimately summoned *Hughes*.  

“So what you’re saying is… there are other ways to obtain shells, right?”  

“Acquiring a shell is mostly a matter of luck. But truly blank shells aren’t only useful for summoning Heretical Gods,” Richard nodded. “In fact, that’s what I really wanted to talk about — natural blank shells are actually projections of Outer Gods in this world.”  

Outer Gods?  

Hughes’s heart stirred. Back when Chloe had spoken with worker Hughes, she had referred to him as an Outer God. He had never found the right opportunity to ask about it.  

“‘Outer God’ is a collective term,” Richard continued. “It refers to entities we currently cannot comprehend — beings that descend into shells.”  

“They’re the opposite of Heretical Gods. The defining trait of Heretical Gods is that they *cannot communicate*. Some may *seem* communicative, but deeper contact reveals it’s always one-sided: either they constantly speak, or they only listen.”  

Hughes furrowed his brow. That was indeed very strange — it was as if Heretical Gods were inherently… flawed.  

And that trait reminded him of the Clamorer — that loud and restless steam engine only *spoke*, never listened. It was fundamentally different from a Machine Soul.  

“Heretical Gods always bring pollution — either they emit it, or absorb it. That is an iron rule. But Outer Gods are different — they don’t necessarily bring pollution.”  

“Huh? Not necessarily? So… they *can* still cause pollution?”  

“Yes. Most Outer Gods are in fact dangerous. Only a few are truly valuable. We once accidentally obtained an Outer God that had descended into a shell — and then it mysteriously disappeared.”  

That was likely the worker Hughes. He probably vanished because the Pirate King’s divine flesh, during the summoning that dragged Castel into the Sea Temple, had left him behind.  

Hughes suspected that was because the shell had purified the Lord of Moths and possessed a portion of its authority. Its rank was too high, and the Pirate King couldn’t pull it in. Thus, Castel disappeared, but the shell remained.  

“Though Outer Gods can be risky, they’re also incredibly valuable. Some can bring knowledge, others prophecy — some may even change the course of an entire era. They’re extremely precious. That’s why, when a blank shell is found, it’s usually used to summon an Outer God. And to save Chloe, we’ll need a shell like that.”  

At that, both men turned to look at the dissection table.  

“She’s a shell?”  

“Yes. And an exceedingly rare, naturally formed shell — not a low-grade, man-made one. The latter can only be used to summon Heretical Gods,” Richard said, gazing at the girl with a complicated expression. He sighed. “But unfortunately, you can’t use her to revive Chloe.”  

“What?” Hughes stiffened, standing up in alarm. “I remember someone saying that as long as there’s a blank shell, Chloe could inhabit it. This shell can even host a Heretical God — why can’t Chloe use it?!”  

Richard gave him a look that said *I knew you’d ask that*, then turned to retrieve a glass vial. It contained a clear, transparent liquid. He carefully unscrewed the cap and dropped a single drop onto the blue-haired girl’s brow.  

In the next moment, her tightly shut eyes trembled slightly — and then two streams of black liquid flowed out like tears.  

“This shell… has already been polluted. While it *can* guide Chloe’s soul here, the moment she awakens, the pollution will devour her instantly.”