Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

Galahad stared blankly upward, unmoving.

He did not know how long had passed before sunlight once again spilled across his face.

Only then did he slowly roll his eyes with stiffness, his sluggish neck turning slightly.

That flying behemoth known as the Celestial Behemoth had passed over his head.

Whether it was the falling sky or the monstrous creature in the clouds that devoured men, it had all been nothing more than his imagination. The airship in the sky had merely passed through the cloud layer, flying over his head.

It had never once paid attention to the ants on the ground, but just the sight of its immense body had nearly pushed Galahad into madness.

What kind of existence was this? For a moment, Galahad thought he had seen a Heretical God. But Heretical Gods...

Galahad recalled that moment when the sky collapsed—were even Heretical Gods so terrifying?

The once heavy cloud layer now had a massive gap in it, and sunlight fell through, landing on Galahad’s face.

He stood up in a daze, only to realize he had somehow collapsed onto the ground.

Thankfully, nothing more disgraceful had occurred. He awkwardly got to his feet and brushed the dirt from his body.

By now, the enormous airship in the sky had drifted a bit farther away, and Galahad could finally glimpse its full form.

It was a massive oval construct, somewhat like an elongated egg. At its tail were four ring-shaped tail fins, and along both sides were several propellers.

Beneath it hung a gondola. Compared to the entire airship, this gondola was insignificant in size. Personnel and weapons were housed inside.

At the front of the airship was painted a pair of fierce eyes and sharp, ferocious teeth.

As if the entire airship was a man-eating shark—anyone who saw it at first glance would sense its terror.

Such a terrifying creature, such a colossal Celestial Behemoth—it was like a Heretical God soaring through the skies.

“This is amazing!” Hughes couldn’t help but exclaim.

“Airships really should have this kind of paint job. Now this has punch! I bet it’s going to be incredible for bombing runs.”

Galahad turned his head in shock. Sitting next to him was none other than Earl Hughes himself. The lord was now staring at the airship with evident excitement.

Was he... not afraid? Even the most gigantic Heretical God could not compare in scale. With something like that passing overhead, didn’t he feel...

Galahad shook his head. Forget it—this was Earl Hughes, after all. A man comparable to his own lord. Perhaps in their eyes, even bizarre and terrifying aerial monsters were just pawns on the board.

He should go see how others were reacting, for example—

“So cute!”

Galahad widened his eyes and turned his head. It was a group of Banshees—after staying in Castel for several days, he had just barely come to terms with the existence of these extraordinary beings.

“It’s so round and plump, like a silly fat shark!”

“I love sleeping while hugging sharks the most. One in each arm! Their scales go shasha, it’s so comfy to rub against!”

“Adorable. I want to keep one.”

No, in truth, he hadn’t really accepted it.

Galahad’s face twitched. He withdrew his gaze from the Banshees. These extraordinary beings were, after all, non-human monsters. Their thoughts diverged wildly from common sense. He must not dwell too deeply on the content of their chatter—he’d go insane.

Better to observe the islanders—the mortals. Galahad had never once felt that mortals were so important. These frail beings might have no combat power, but at least they could help him stabilize his state and avoid losing control...

“With an airship that big, just how much explosives can it carry? Imagine the size of the fireball!”

“If we can’t win, it’s because firepower’s lacking. Lack of firepower means insufficient payload. Insufficient payload means we need to increase the payload. Payload is never enough!”

“Payload is truth. Tonnage is justice. Cowards always babble about ‘precision strikes’—hah, they understand nothing of art.”

“So powerful, so powerful, so damn powerful!!”

Galahad’s eyes filled with confusion. He truly could not tell whether he was hearing the ravings of madmen or the blasphemous phrases of cultists. Why could he understand every single word, yet once strung together, they became sentences beyond comprehension?

Damn it, had he gone mad already?

But before that self-doubt could impact his cognition, he heard the voice of Earl Hughes beside him.

“Alright, the drill officially begins!” Hughes stood excitedly on his chair and shouted loudly, “Hurry up and drop the bombs!”

Bomb drop?

Did that mean to drop a projectile down?

Hmm, from such a height, dropping a stone directly from the airship would certainly cause devastating damage. That must be the method of attack for the airship. Though it appeared rather crude, it was, in truth, quite effective.

Even giant catapults built at great cost with vast quantities of timber could not hurl stones to the altitude of the Celestial Behemoth, and the stones they used were merely the size of carriage wheels.

Even such stones could deal tremendous destruction to fortified walls and gates. Yet the Celestial Behemoth could carry even larger stones, dropping them from high altitude—capable of annihilating even the tallest of city walls.

As if to confirm Galahad’s thoughts, a small black dot fell from the sky. Compared to the size of the airship, it was minuscule—if Galahad had not been an Extraordinary, he likely would not have seen it at all.

But from this height, the force of the fall would surely be formidable.

A bomb drop, was it? I must remember this method of attack. Airships truly were weapons that could alter the battlefield. I must inform His Highness...

While his thoughts wandered, Galahad’s gaze gradually lost focus—until a crimson blossom bloomed upon the ground.

“Wh—”

He was too stunned to speak. A massive blaze of fire burst simultaneously along the coastline and within his sight, and the thunderous boom reached his ears only moments later. Then came the violent wind, whipping up dust that poured into his agape mouth.

What was that?

Like the muzzle flash from a musket’s discharge, or like a volcanic eruption—it was an instant explosion of orange-red flame edged with black, its heat perceptible even across several kilometers.

“Thi... this, this...”

So this was bombing? This was a bomb drop?

It turned out that what was dropped was not a crude, hulking stone—but destruction and death.

Why had he come up with the laughable notion of comparing it to a catapult? Was it meant to destroy city walls?

No—it was meant to send the entire city, along with those pathetic walls, straight into hell.

No need to inform His Highness anymore. In the face of such an enemy, what Blood Harbor needed was not defense—but prayer.

Pray to remain small enough to escape the notice of that behemoth in the sky.

Cold sweat soaked Galahad’s back.

Today felt like the longest day ever. He felt as if he had been here for a century. His entire body was limp and weightless, and all he wanted was to get far away from these terrifying monsters.

And just then, a voice rang beside his ear.

“Bomb calibration complete. Commence drill.”