Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

“How much steel would this take…”

Alvare lifted his head and muttered to himself.

“Heh, you can’t figure it out, right? I couldn’t either, so I made a serious estimate. And the result was so unbelievable even I didn’t dare believe it myself—do you know? Just the steel used for these basic facilities alone was enough to put a lid on Blood Harbor.”

“This isn’t a metaphor, nor some kind of comparison. I mean it literally—melt all this steel down and hammer it into a Steel Plate, and it could cover the entire Blood Harbor. And its thickness would definitely be no thinner than the plate armor worn by the knights under your command—only thicker.”

Alvare stood speechless in the middle of the street. The bright sunlight spilled across his body, the silhouettes of steel pipes falling beside him. He looked up at the sky, imagining a vault of iron stretching overhead.

“No… impossible, right? These gas pipelines are plenty, and thick too, but surely they didn’t use that much steel.”

“That’s because what you see aboveground are only the gas pipes. Do you know how many pipelines are beneath our feet?”

“Be… beneath our feet?”

Alvare jolted in fright and quickly staggered back a few steps.

“See those round things on the street over there? Those are manhole covers. Open one and you can climb right in. Blood Harbor looks big from above, but the sewers underneath are just as dense. They say a huge disaster happened here once—the ground of Blood Harbor collapsed by a large chunk. When the Lord rebuilt the city, he repaired the entire sewer system along with it.”

“It’s said that the sewers were built completely according to the layout of the streets above. Every drainage opening on the street corresponds to a pipe below. A dense web of pipelines—rainwater drains, sewage drains, steam pipes, and others used to transport special materials. All of them packed together. The underside of Blood Harbor may very well be larger than the city itself.”

Alvare stared blankly at the ground beneath his feet. Suddenly, he felt as if he were not standing on solid earth at all, but atop a tall building—the “ground” he thought he was standing on was only the rooftop.

“W-why build so many pipelines?” Alvare stammered.

“Of course each has its purpose. The sea beside us is called the Storm Ocean—storms and downpours are an everyday thing. Have you ever seen the streets flooded with water here?”

“That… no. It doesn’t rain much in the Northlands. My cities are often covered in puddles.”

“All that rainwater is drained straight into the sea through the sewers.”

Alvare remained silent for a while and then slowly nodded.

“Uncle, besides that… have you noticed how especially clean these streets are?”

Alvare truly had not paid attention. There were too many shocking things in Blood Harbor; clean streets felt natural—just like the holy kingdom described in the Church’s Holy Text wouldn’t be covered in filth. He had taken it for granted, but the more he thought about it now, the more startled he became.

“You mean all that refuse?”

“Yes. There are pipes dedicated to disposal, and others who clean regularly. That’s how the streets stay spotless.”

Alvare originally wanted to argue. He had seen carriages on the streets—humans’ waste could be cleaned by assigned workers, but how could livestock control themselves? Surely no one followed after them to clean?

He turned his head—and only then noticed that most of the horses had bags hanging behind them.

“Dung bags. Any livestock entering Blood Harbor without dung bags must pay a cleaning fine. There are many similar regulations.”

“Everything you’ve seen—this industrial miracle called Blood Harbor—was not made by gods, nor by the extraordinary world, but by commonfolk, mortals like you and me, built with their own hands.”

“It truly exists in this Mortal Realm. Every miracle is built from tiny changes over time—not castles in the air. We simply spent too long crawling in the mud, so the moment we saw someone stand up, we mistook them for gods.”

Alvare froze.

On the rail tracks a few streets away, a steam locomotive roared past like a rampaging steel beast—but if one looked closely, inside the engine was a Stoker biting a pipe while shoveling coal into the boiler, a Driver pulling the Whistle, and engineers checking the pipes.

On the nearby platform, the switchman pulled the control lever, then lifted his flag and signaled. In the rows of Concrete buildings, people bustled in and out.

It was one worker after another, maintaining the operation of this intricate, complex city. Ordinary mortals—yet together, they were that indescribable industrial giant.

Alvare trembled from head to toe. It felt as if he were back in childhood, sneaking out of the castle for the first time, looking up at the star-strewn galaxy and the vast sky above.

These enormous, uncanny creations… were actually made by mortals like him?

He did not know why—but at this moment, mortals frightened him more than gods.

He let out a shout, threw aside his cane, and turned to run. Hunter stared blankly for a moment before reacting, hurrying after him down the street.

Hunter, being a scholar, had terrible stamina. Fortunately, his uncle was a matching opponent—his plump body, even running wildly, still couldn’t shake off Hunter chasing behind him.

They ran all the way to the seaside at the docks.

“Wait! Uncle! Don’t!” Hunter shouted between gasps. But Alvare ignored him completely and ran straight ahead. Hunter saw only a huge splash explode upward.

“U-uncle!”

Hunter rushed to the edge, almost slipping and falling in himself. His arms flailed wildly before he barely regained balance, stumbling back onto the ground.

He scrambled forward again, crying out, “Uncle! Someone—someone help! My uncle fell into the sea!”

Moments later, joy flashed across his face—a dark shape was rising from the water. But very soon, his expression froze stiff.

That shadow… was far too big.

Splash!

A burst of water exploded upward, and the massive figure that surged out startled Hunter half to death. When he looked closely, he realized it was a golden-haired Banshee.

She glared at Hunter, then lifted the drenched Alvare in her hand.

“Littering. Fine: five hundred Rio!”

“Oh—o-okay… how much?!”

“Five thousand Rio!”

Seeing Hunter’s widened eyes, Nini smiled with satisfaction. “Unless… you two accept my Interview!”

“Okay! No problem!” Hunter agreed instantly, then looked up at his uncle.

Alvare, having fallen into the water only to be yanked up immediately, had not even had time to choke. He still looked dazed.

“That’s Grand Duke Alvare? He… doesn’t look very smart. Should I just toss him back? What’s the point of him?”

“H-he… he’s rich…”