Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

“You didn’t even teach me how to reload!”

That one sentence rendered Hodge completely speechless.

To be honest, he couldn’t even remember whether he had taught her or not. Things had been too urgent earlier. Frankly, he hadn’t held much hope—he had merely told Gwen to give it a try, while already preparing for the Expeditionary Army to open fire.

And then Gwen had single-handedly suppressed an entire wall of White Bones.

“No matter what, this heavy machine gun shouldn’t be able to keep firing like that. Someone, help me get it up on the stand.”

Several Expeditionary Army soldiers scrambled to assist Hodge, lifting the Gatling Gun onto the special mount by the window—the train had been built for war, after all, and there were plenty of firing positions.

Hodge fetched a brand-new magazine, skillfully locked it into place, and turned the crank—

“Hm?”

The crank seemed welded to the gun—it wouldn’t budge an inch.

“Is the gun broken?”

“No?” Gwen looked utterly puzzled. She had just been firing it perfectly fine.

Hodge leaned in for a look. Nothing appeared jammed, and even if it were a jam, the crank should have turned partway before locking up. But this one simply refused to move at all.

Gwen reached over, gave it a few turns, and tat-tat-tat!—a burst of bullets fired out. She then stepped back.

Hodge gripped the crank again—still wouldn’t move.

Damn it, this was a new gun—fresh from the armory! Why could she turn it but not him?

After a moment’s hesitation, Hodge took a can of gun oil from a nearby soldier. It was the type used for cleaning weapons. Carefully, he poured it into the bearings along the gun’s rotating cylinder.

Then he tried again. This time, the crank moved—yet as the cylinder spun, the oil inexplicably squirted out, splattering Hodge’s face.

At that, the nearby Expeditionary Army soldiers all looked suddenly enlightened.

They understood now—the Machine Soul was displeased.

A few soldiers sympathetically patted Hodge on the shoulder.

Most of the Expeditionary Army hailed from Castel. Who among them hadn’t seen a stoker get chased and cursed by a steam engine?

Appeasing a Machine Soul was a technical skill. Those who did it well could make their engines perform significantly better. Many Mechanical Priests truly formed emotional bonds with their machines. When reassigned elsewhere, they would even embrace their steam engines to say farewell.

It was said that Captain Jeremiah would talk to his Black Pearl for half an hour every day in his cabin—he’d sit there without coming out, almost leading others to suspect he had developed Castel Syndrome.

But—

“Was this gun consecrated with an awakening ritual? Isn’t it just a standard-issue heavy machine gun?”

“Don’t say that—‘consecration’ sounds superstitious. It’s called awakening the Machine Soul. But indeed, I’ve never heard of anyone performing such a ritual on a heavy machine gun before.”

The Expeditionary Army soldiers began whispering among themselves. Steam engines required the awakening of a Machine Soul—after all, they burned pollution, and without the Machine Soul’s suppression, the engines wouldn’t even ignite.

But what good would it do for a heavy machine gun? Ordinary ones fired just fine. Who would bother giving it an awakening ritual? Machine Souls were notoriously difficult to please.

“Gwen… did you do anything to this gun?”

“I fired it.”

“No, I mean something more… special. Perhaps a ritual? You should know that this weapon possesses a Machine Soul—some kind of will, right?”

“A ritual? No, I didn’t perform any ritual.” Gwen scratched her head. “But before the battle started, I did talk to it—right after I test-fired a few rounds.”

“What did you say?”

“Uh, well…” Gwen’s face turned slightly red with embarrassment.

“I said, ‘You’re really something. Come be my friend.’”

“…”

“And then? How did you summon it afterward?”

“Summon? I didn’t summon anything. I just started firing at the enemy—the gun’s amazing! Way better than a longsword!”

The carriage fell into utter silence.

The Expeditionary Army soldiers were dumbfounded—even Ash’s usually icy expression cracked in disbelief.

Even Monica had to perform an elaborate dance to summon a Machine Soul—and you got one just by saying a few words?

The last time anyone had seen a Machine Soul so lively was when Tata visited the Lighthouse District, and the steam engines in the shipwrecks there nearly jumped out to attack him.

Hodge pressed his lips tightly together. Heaven have mercy—he had been a stoker once, but after being shunned by Machine Souls, he had to give up the job and join the army instead.

He silently took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the gun oil off his face. The nearby soldiers patted his shoulder again, one after another.

“All right, let’s leave it at that for now. Gwen, the gun’s yours. Take good care of her.”

After spending a while wiping himself clean, Hodge glanced at the heavy machine gun with a wistful expression.

“Where’s the Conductor? Bring him here. Lady Ash, we should discuss the situation with the White Calamity.”

Once aboard the Armored Train, the soldiers immediately relaxed. Neither White Bones nor the White Mist could catch up with them. And even if they did, the machine guns and Dragon’s Breath Cannons on the roof would drive them back.

However, before the Conductor could arrive, a message came from the sentries on the roof.

“White Mist sighted to the right!”

Hodge and several others rushed to the observation slit. He squinted for a moment, then turned to Ash.

“It’s definitely White Mist.” Ash nodded. “And there are those crawling, running White Bones ahead.”

“They’re quite a distance away, and their direction’s not bad. Hard to threaten a steam train.” Hodge rubbed his chin, then suddenly looked toward the Conductor, who had just arrived.

“What kind of cargo are we carrying?”

“Two cars of munitions, one of miscellaneous supplies, one of medicine, seven of various materials, and two cars of livestock.”

“What kind of livestock?”

“A few cows and pigs, plus some horses. I don’t remember the exact number—shall I check?”

“No need. But I’ll need the train to cooperate.”

Ahead, the train’s speed gradually slowed. Suddenly, one of the car doors opened, and the livestock inside were driven out by force.

The speed wasn’t high—some animals broke their legs, while the luckier ones escaped injury, scattering in panic.

The train slightly picked up speed again, though not by much—just enough to keep some distance behind the livestock, as everyone watched the White Bones rushing from the side.

The skeletal horde that had been chasing the train suddenly veered off, charging straight toward the livestock.

Many of the crippled animals lay helpless on the ground. Seeing the writhing mass of White Bones coming for them, they screamed and struggled frantically. Those that couldn’t move could only howl in despair.

But the White Bones were far faster. Within moments, the cows and pigs were completely engulfed.

On the distant train, Hodge and the others widened their eyes at the sight.

“Are they… eating the flesh?”

“No. Doesn’t look like it. They seem to be dismantling the animals—like disassembling a gun into its parts.”