Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

“That was a salvage ship. It lifted the wreckage of sunken ships from the seabed, then re-melted and reused them.” The young man escorting him casually explained, “Steel from shipwrecks was more likely to give birth to a Ship’s Soul. Even though it was cursed horribly by the Steam Engine and the Ship’s Soul together, at least the safety was better. And with the way the shipyard kept sinking ships, if they didn’t salvage them, this dock would sooner or later become unusable.”

Hunter understood every word in that sentence, yet strung together it became inexplicable. What was a Ship’s Soul? Why would a shipyard intentionally sink ships? Most importantly, why would a Steam Engine curse at people?

He instinctively wanted to ask, but the words reached his mouth and he abruptly halted.

The young Lady Doctor’s advice still echoed in his ears—do not listen, do not look, do not think; the more one knew, the closer one drew to madness.

Damn it, but he was a scholar. Curiosity burned like fire, scorching what remained of his rationality.

After struggling for a moment, he only nodded and followed the young man away from the dock.

“Right, I haven’t asked… you are…?” Hunter’s gaze fell upon the sacred emblem pinned to the young man’s clothes.

He had seen it on the ship—identical to the one in the Holy Text.

“I am Holy Guard, under the Imperial Truth Church.” Feeling Hunter’s gaze, the young man straightened his chest.

“I see. I don’t know much about your Church. Could you tell me some doctrines?” Hunter asked cautiously.

This was his experience dealing with Church personnel.

These Church folk did not necessarily love money, nor did they necessarily crave power, but their faith was usually devout.

Even the ones who weren’t devout wouldn’t mind casually reciting a few sentences to appear devout.

Thus, the best way to flatter them was to pretend to seek instruction and let them lecture from on high about doctrines. That was something Hunter’s old man had taught him.

But the Holy Guard, who had been smiling all along, suddenly froze, his smile stiffening.

“The doctrine of the Imperial Truth, uh, it’s that…”

He looked pleadingly toward his companion, the other Holy Guard escorting Hunter.

That man’s face changed as well; he stammered awkwardly.

“Doctrine… damn it, did the Holy Text even write down any doctrine? What exactly does our Church do again?”

Hunter’s eyes widened. Weren’t these Holy Guard? Logically, the army under the Church should have been the most devout. Had the Church rotted to such a degree?

The two whispered to each other for a while, then finally spoke with embarrassed expressions: “This question is… too profound, not something that can be explained in a sentence or two. You should ask our Political Commissar… our Mechanical Priest… uh, you should ask our Archbishop Alexei. He should probably know the doctrine?”

“But if you have any other questions, you can ask us—physics, chemistry, etc. You seem to be a scholar of mechanical engineering? We can talk about that too…”

Hunter forced a smile and nodded cooperatively, but inwardly he was full of disdain.

What a joke—him discussing mechanical knowledge with these clergy trained specifically for combat?

They probably didn’t even know what a gear was!

If they couldn’t even recite proper doctrine, this Church was rotten to the core.

With a Church like this, how could they possibly manage anything?

Suppressing his thoughts, Hunter continued walking with the two Holy Guard.

The ground beneath his feet was lead-gray and felt extremely hard; Hunter couldn’t tell what material it was.

People bustled around the dock. Huge steel gantry cranes assisted workers unloading cargo from the ships.

Steel. More steel.

Looking at the massive crane arms, Hunter felt numb.

Was steel grown from trees here, freely plucked and tossed into a furnace?

How could there be so much?

After unloading cargo, the workers used machinery to carry it to a steam train parked not far away.

Hunter had seen trains before—the armored trains running between the Northlands and Blood Harbor were several sizes larger than this one—but he was more interested in the rails.

Previously, he had been escorted and hadn’t inspected closely. Now that he was nearer, he realized these tracks were also made of steel.

The amount of steel used for rails wasn’t much—at least not compared to ironclad warships—but this line stretched all the way from Blood Harbor to the Northlands!

Blood Harbor to the Northlands—riding a horse would take half a month! Just imagining the steel required made his scalp tingle.

Yet they weren’t even afraid of theft.

But thinking of the steam locomotive that could make a round trip in half a day, Hunter nodded. Without large tools, no one could pry up even a single rail in half a day; and if they used large tools… the black muzzles atop the train were not decorations.

The train hadn’t arrived yet. The three lined up on the platform, and Hunter suddenly felt the light dim.

Cloudy weather? Could it darken so abruptly?

Confused, Hunter lifted his head—and his entire body froze, his pupils contracting to needle points.

What was that…

His entire field of vision was occupied by a gigantic, grotesque creation. The sky seemed capped, or perhaps collapsing downward. The indescribable pressure crushed Hunter onto the ground. He gasped desperately, feeling suffocated.

And that colossal thing was moving! It advanced above his head at a speed that looked slow, yet was frighteningly fast.

Hunter felt his vision retreating, everything else blurring, while the sky-borne giant grew clearer.

He saw upon that massive body a pair of blood-red, razor-sharp eyes, filled with blazing fury.

A slightly open monstrous maw, jagged teeth densely packed, eager to tear apart its enemies.

What was this? A flying sky-whale? A god’s kingdom floating in the heavens? Or the god itself?

In a panic, Hunter looked to his sides, only to see the two Holy Guard utterly unfazed. Most travelers waiting to board barely cared. Those who had arrived with him on the ship were even excitedly pointing upward.

No one screamed, no one knelt, many didn’t even bother lifting their eyelids—as if it were just boring scenery.

Damn it! Did they not feel fear? No dread? With such a colossal being floating overhead, Hunter felt he was about to die of fright.

“That’s the Celestial Behemoth. An old fellow. Even though they later built many new Flying Airships, I still think she’s the best, don’t you?”

The Holy Guard looked up and smiled.

Celestial Behemoth?

Hunter’s sluggish mind slowly resumed working. A nearly unbelievable guess surfaced.