Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

“Lady Nora, did we get ourselves into trouble?”

Nora’s gaze passed over the ship’s rail, toward the vessels and airships outside, and she let out a soft sigh.

At the moment when Castel was fully on guard, Gwen was instead on the ship.

After confirming Gwen’s identity, Nini had immediately led people to bring her down from that Steel Ark. The Banshees were not afraid of the descent of pollution and were the best choice for handling such situations.

After that, Gwen and Nora were arranged to stay aboard the Black Pearl.

Although this place was only one step away from Castel, Nini still did not choose to let Gwen go ashore—she had not even landed yet and had already caused so much trouble; who knew what she would stir up once she got on the island.

“Hmph, what’s there to be afraid of?” Jeremiah, who was standing beside Gwen, curled his lips. “If I could get my hands on such a huge ship, I’d be happy beyond words. To hell with Castel—if my ship were big enough, then I would be Castel.”

The deck beneath their feet let out creaking sounds. Jeremiah hurriedly patted the railing in reassurance. “Hey, I didn’t mean you were bad. I just think—hey, that ship is really something!”

Gwen lifted her head and looked toward the Steel Ark not far away. When she had been standing on it before, she had not felt much, but now that there was some distance between them, she could truly feel its immense scale.

Was such a miraculous creation really summoned by her?

Gwen lowered her head and stared at her own hands, her face filled with confusion.

When she raised her head again, she suddenly saw a ferocious, weather-beaten face right in front of her. Gwen startled and took a step back. Only then did Jeremiah opposite her slowly straighten up, stroking his beard.

“Little girl, you’re really strange.”

“Strange? How am I strange? You’re the strange one—scaring me out of nowhere!” Gwen replied irritably.

“You clearly possess the strength of a Transcendent, yet no matter how I look at you, you don’t seem like one.”

Gwen froze.

“How do I not seem like a Transcendent?”

“I’ve seen many Transcendents. Some had good tempers, some had bad tempers, some were lazy, some liked working overtime, but there was one thing they all shared.”

Jeremiah pulled out a clump of tobacco from his pocket and tossed it into his mouth, chewing.

“They were all stubborn.”

“Captain Jeremiah—I used to be a pirate, and before that I was just a poor kid scraping by on the docks. Back then, our ships weren’t like the ones now. There wasn’t this much steel, no such powerful steam engines. Shipwrecks were normal, and entire ships vanishing into storms was an everyday occurrence. Do you know what kind of person can become a captain?”

Gwen shook her head.

“Only those who want to be captains can become captains. You think I’m spouting nonsense? Let me tell you, I recruited who knows how many sailors. Almost all of them just wanted to make some money and go back to enjoy themselves. They didn’t like the work on ships; they just couldn’t escape it. That kind of person isn’t even qualified to be a sailor—you have to kick them in the ass with your boot before they’ll do any work.”

“But some people are different. Those who want to be captains stand out in a crowd at a glance, like a shark mixed in among devil fish.”

“Some people are born yearning for the sea. People like that will die in storms, die in the sea, not on some tattered bed on shore.”

“Even if the sea dries up, even if all the ships in the world run aground, I, Jeremiah, will still be a captain.”

The old pirate’s voice was hoarse and low, like a rusted bellows, always making it seem as though it would break the next second—yet it stubbornly forced air through all the same.

“Transcendents are the same. They are born captains; it’s just that their sea is not here.”

Gwen’s hand trembled slightly.

Jeremiah’s somewhat clouded eyes reluctantly withdrew from the distant sea and settled on Gwen’s face.

“And you—you are not. You’re like a little girl who sneaked into the captain’s cabin and grabbed the helm. This ship just happened to start moving, so many people took you for the real thing.”

His cheeks moved as he chewed the tobacco leaves, one bite at a time, while his eyes remained fixed on Gwen. He raised two fingers, pointed to his own eyes, then tapped toward Gwen.

“I can tell. You’re not a captain. That delicate little head of yours is full of confusion. You haven’t found the sea you’re prepared to be buried in, and you haven’t decided whether you even want to board that ship.”

Gwen pressed her lips together, lowered her head, and stared at the deck in silence.

She knew the old captain in front of her was right. She was, in fact, confused.

From the very beginning, she had never thought of leading the Resistance Army. It was only because Lady Nora had suddenly disappeared and the Resistance Army had lost its backbone.

And Gwen was always the most ferocious in battle. When she advanced, people followed. By the time she turned around, the refugees of the Northlands had already begun shouting her name.

So she led the refugees into battle.

Battle—this was the only thing she knew. When she was confused, she would pick up her sword, and all the worries in her heart would vanish. The noisy sounds around her would quiet down, and she would hear her own heartbeat.

Thump after thump, filled with the most primal vitality.

Then the long sword cutting through flesh, iron boots crushing bones—those became only natural outcomes.

She had once thought such days would go on forever, but then the Expeditionary Army arrived.

Heavy Machine Guns, Dragon’s Breath Cannons, and Bolt-Action Rifles—her long sword was not inferior, but—

In the end, Gwen still came to Castel.

She should have been happy, and she truly was. This place was beautiful like heaven, and the people were very friendly to her. She liked it here very much.

But here, there was no longer any need to fight.

Gwen locked her long sword and armor into a chest, along with her beloved Heavy Machine Gun, and never opened them again.

Jeremiah had not been wrong. She could no longer find her sea. She was like a child who had lost something, yet had already forgotten what it was she had lost.

Castel was the home of the refugees, yet she felt as though she were still wandering.

“Little girl, what kind of ship do you want to board?”

“I—”

Nora lifted her head to look at her. The Banshees and the crew members had, at some point, also gathered nearby. They stood at a distance, quietly watching Gwen.

Gwen’s breathing gradually grew heavy. She clenched her fists, her eyes shining.

“I want to fight. Any kind of fight will do. With a long sword, with a machine gun. If I have neither, then I still have my fists and my teeth. I want to charge into battle. I want to see blood flow—mine or the enemy’s, I don’t care.”

“I yearn for battle.”

A metallic humming sound came from the cabin. Everyone turned to look—it was two chests, the luggage Gwen always carried with her.

With a bang, a hole appeared in the top of one chest. A streak of silver light cut through the air, and by the time people came back to their senses, a long sword had already appeared in Gwen’s hand.

That long sword had never shone so brilliantly before. It trembled lightly, passionately responding to its master’s will.