Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

“Come to think of it, it’s been quite a while since I went back to Castel. Might as well go take a look.”

Hughes muttered to himself, though there was a trace of resistance in his expression.

To be honest, he did not particularly want to return to the island.

With Gaia, the head of the R&D department, away on a diplomatic mission to Rhine, the island’s research operations were, according to protocol, temporarily managed by a technician with relevant administrative experience.

Unfortunately, that person was Tata.

Tata, a senior researcher of Moths Chasing Fire, possessed extremely rich experience in the field. Hughes did not worry about him being incapable of the job.

On the contrary, he worried that Tata might be a little too capable.

To be fair, both the Stellar Furnace and the cargo ships Tata had overseen were fairly successful creations—he had merely taken a few detours along the way.

The problem was that those detours had been a bit too detoured.

Not to mention anything else—Big Gwen could now summon a Steel Ark straight out of the sea. Heaven knew how many ships had already sunk beneath the waves.

To this day, Tata did not dare approach that massive vessel, fearing that the Machine Soul aboard might explode at him.

Now that he was heading back to the island, just the thought of seeing whatever miraculous invention Tata had produced this time gave Hughes a headache.

“Forget it, forget it. I’ll just go take a look. Tata hasn’t been in charge of R&D for that long. Nothing should have happened yet.”

After half a day of psychological preparation, Hughes ultimately decided to make the trip—he was genuinely afraid that if he stayed away too long, Tata might present him with something truly outrageous.

After informing Ash at the Banshee duty room, he headed to the Port District, where a uniquely shaped vessel was already waiting for him.

This ship had also been designed by Tata. Hughes called it the Assault Coffin, also known as Nine Dragons, Nine Serpents Pulling a Coffin. Unlike high-energy systems such as Steam Engines that burned Pollution for power, this one ran on new energy.

—Human power.

Hughes had merely mentioned within the Connection that he was preparing to return to Castel, and a group of Banshees had immediately howled as they rushed over.

『Are we pulling the coffin? Are we pulling the coffin?』

『Pull it! We can all pull it!』

『Quick, when are we leaving? It’s finally my turn this time—no one’s stealing it from me!』

『Relax, no one’s stealing it. Just stay on my left. With Ash added in, the three of us can form the head!』

『Oh? That works too. I heard pulling from the side is fun—you can control the rotation speed.』

『Right, right! The front controls the Assault Coffin’s direction, the sides control its roll, the rear controls its pitch. If everyone pushes together, we can even take off!』

Hughes took a deep breath and tried to steady his emotions.

There was no helping it—the Assault Coffin truly was the fastest way to travel across the sea at present.

Castel’s cargo ships sailed at a little over ten knots. The Ironclad Warship was somewhat faster, reaching twenty knots at full speed.

As for the fastest steam clippers—such as Jeremiah’s Black Pearl—when the Machine Soul was in high spirits, they could approach thirty knots. In this era, that was already as swift as the wind.

But Banshees could exceed one hundred knots in the sea.

This speed vastly surpassed the limits of steamships. Even modern vessels on Blue Star would struggle to match it.

Once a conventional vessel exceeded sixty knots (111 km/h) in ordinary fluid, it encountered cavitation barriers—the vacuum bubbles generated behind propellers caused thrust to collapse, a “death line” still difficult to overcome.

Banshees did not propel themselves through the water by swinging their serpentine tails. They relied on Extraordinary Power—an innate talent.

Through the Symbiotic Contract, Hughes could also share this ability. One could say that Banshees in the sea outpaced all ships, which justified the existence of this new-energy vessel—the Assault Coffin.

That did not, however, make it any less bizarre.

This time, Hughes needed to bring a large amount of paper documents—especially this batch obtained from the Mechanical Sanctum—so in the end, he had no choice but to bring out the Assault Coffin.

He lay flat inside the coffin-ship cabin, surrounded by thick, soft padding.

There was no choice. The Banshees responsible for pulling the coffin paid very little attention to smoothness. Before carrying people, they had tested it on a Coyote. When the unfortunate creature had been poured out of the cabin, it had suffered over four hundred fractures.

For reference, a Coyote had only a little over three hundred bones in total.

Even Tata, the designer, had failed to keep a straight face at that result, and ultimately stuffed the cabin full of thick cushioning pads.

Besides, Hughes had the Symbiotic Contract. Even four hundred fractures would not kill him.

The Banshees surrounded him, stuffing the necessary paper materials around his sides. Hughes lay inside the Assault Coffin, hands folded across his chest, staring at the ring of Banshees around him.

Why did this feel more and more wrong?

Forget it—best not to think too deeply about it. Hughes quickly signaled Ash to close the cabin lid.

Yes, the “Assault Coffin” was not some exaggerated nickname. It truly did not resemble a ship at all. After all, what kind of ship came with a lid?

Of course, due to Hughes’ strong objections, it had not been made too square, and the lid did not look too much like a coffin lid.

It was a sliding cover.

So overall, it looked like…

A rather fashionable coffin.

Lying inside the cabin and staring wide-eyed at the Banshees around him, Hughes was truly on the verge of losing it.

“Say something! Weren’t you all so talkative before? Why’s no one saying a word now? It’s as solemn as a Funeral!”

The Banshees exchanged glances. Monica scratched her head.

“Boss, it’s not that we’re deliberately staying silent. We’ve just gotten used to acting quiet in front of the Silent Sanctum lately… ahem. Well then, I’ll briefly say a few words.”

Monica stepped forward, about to speak, when Hughes raised his hand, grabbed the sliding lid, and slammed it shut with a bang.

Monica: “.”

“Forget it. Let’s depart.”

Thus, nine Banshees, with fifty-four hands in total, simultaneously grabbed hold of the Assault Coffin and hoisted it onto their shoulders as they walked toward the sea.

—Because the Assault Coffin was relatively small in size, and to prevent it from being overturned by waves, it was launched only after the lid had been sealed.

The Banshees stood as tall as two-story buildings when fully upright. Monica, however, was much shorter—about the same height as Hughes.

Normally it did not matter, but when carrying the coffin, her height disadvantage became apparent.

The other Banshees carried the Assault Coffin on their shoulders. Monica, on the other hand, used six hands to grab onto it and hung there.

Eight Banshees bore the coffin, with Monica dangling from above—this abstract procession, bordering on performance art, successfully drew the attention of everyone at the docks.

This time, Nini had not applied to pull the coffin. Instead, she had said she would join some sort of coffin-escort team. Now she hid to the side, holding a camera with two hands, a drawing board and brush with another two, and a notebook with the last two, scribbling furiously as if sparks might fly from her efforts.

It seemed tomorrow’s headline would be worth anticipating. Perhaps there would even be another world-famous painting.

As for Hughes lying inside the coffin, he had already prepared in advance—he directly returned.

Let them fool around with that shell. Hughes would simply open his eyes later and already be at his destination.

That was true end-to-end.