Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord
Chapter 208: The Slowly Moving Steel Behemoth

The southern mining site was actually some distance from the coast, but Hughes, to be on the safe side, still equipped this train with a large amount of protective armor and firepower.

Soldiers could shoot from the elevated position on the front of the train, and even a few cannon firing ports were reserved. Even when facing a large number of enemies, they could still put up a fight.

However, there was actually an even simpler method—ramming through.

Hughes had installed an extremely sharp ram at the front of the train, which was highly effective against flesh and blood. If the obstacle was not too sturdy, the steel crane arm on the roof of the train could also be used to break through.

As for the railway tracks, Hughes deliberately laid a few sections along the coast and, as expected, found that the murlocs had no interest in them. Occasionally, a few would try to strike them with pickaxes, but they could hardly cause any damage.

The tracks leading to the mining area were not yet fully laid, so Hughes planned to test the locomotive first. If there were no issues, it could follow behind the workers as they proceeded, allowing it to counter any potential murloc attacks with its armor and weaponry.

Recently, the number of murlocs had become overwhelming, making it difficult for the Holy Guard to handle. While daily defenses were still manageable, nighttime battles were stretching them thin. Hughes was ready to initiate the next phase of recruitment.

"How is the preparation going?"

"The announcement has been issued, and the workers along the route have been notified. Most of the islanders who are not too busy with work have come to watch of their own accord."

Since the war began, while the islanders’ safety had been ensured, their daily lives had become quite repressive. Many people’s homes were not far from here, yet they could not return and had to stay in the church.

The living conditions in the church were actually quite good. The divisions were reasonable, and the sense of stability brought by reinforced concrete was better than the wooden houses most people had.

However, that was still their home, where they had lived for many years. Everyone longed to drive out the murlocs and restore Castel to its former state.

Thus, when news spread that the armored train was about to make its first run, many people gathered to watch. Hughes simply gave the factory workers half a day off, leaving only a few on duty.

By the time Hughes arrived at the church’s factory district, the area was already packed with people. Many even sat on the walls, and when they saw Hughes, they cheered. The workers who had just stepped out of the factory were still in their work clothes, waving their dirt-stained hands excitedly.

Hughes smiled and responded to each of them. The cheers of these workers were not necessarily all for him—more likely, it was an outlet for their suppressed emotions. The shadow of war loomed over everyone.

Before the people was a simple station. Aside from the leveled ground, there was little else. A few steel unloading machines were set aside, and further in were the heavy iron tracks, wooden sleepers, and the colossal machine resting upon them.

Steam locomotives were already massive, and with the addition of metal armor plates and a battering ram, this one appeared even more immense and menacing. Some people cautiously reached out to touch the cold, hard gray-black steel. Everything was brand new—the steel, the wheels, even the rivets. The very existence of this steel behemoth was a testament to order and industrial power.

Hughes walked to the front of the train. The air mixed with the scent of engine oil was not unpleasant. The black protective armor blocked out the sunlight, and looking up from the shadow, the sharp cutter at the front of the train sent an involuntary chill down his spine. Its massive frame was like a giant ready to crush everything before it.

On the steel body at the front of the train, a line of small text read: Castel First Steelworks.

"Lord, everything is in order. We can start."

The stoker poked his head out from inside the train. He looked somewhat nervous inside the armored locomotive, as if standing on an expensive carpet. However, when it came to operating the steam engine, his movements were remarkably proficient.

"Old Ivan?" Hughes smiled. "Start it up."

Old Ivan was momentarily stunned before nodding firmly. He threw a pre-filled canister of entity pollution into the firebox of the steam engine. As the Clamorer began its noisy chatter, the water in the steam chamber slowly started to boil.

Boiler, piston, flywheel, drive shaft, whistle, pressure relief valve, steam pipes—every metal component of the train began to sing in unison, and even the rivets trembled slightly.

Old Ivan skillfully glanced at the pressure gauge and pulled the lever down.

Woo—

A loud whistle sounded. The slumbering steel behemoth opened its eyes and took its first step forward.

Clank, clank, clank.

The rhythmic sound of the wheels echoed. The collision of steel was a beautiful melody. People stood in awe for a few seconds before erupting into cheers.

Everything was working perfectly—it had successfully started!

Old Ivan stood at the front of the train, exhaling deeply, a relieved smile appearing on his face.

A year ago, he was just a fisherman, his proudest skill being predicting rain at sea based on the pain in his knees.

Now, he was operating this colossal metal machine, listening to the Clamorer’s noisy chatter, feeling a strange sense of unfamiliarity.

Yet even with an empty mind, his hands continued working with practiced ease.

The Holy Guard returning from the front lines, exhausted night-shift workers just off duty, and Gaia with her heavy dark circles under her eyes—all of them cheered together, momentarily drowning out the whistle’s long cry.

Hughes joined the crowd, waving toward the train as it slowly rolled past the towering walls of the church.

Beyond the walls, a team of Banshees and several Holy Guard soldiers stood near the tracks.

Various obstacles had been placed along the rails.

First was a large pile of straw, which the train easily pushed aside, the bits caught in the wheels quickly shredded by the steel.

Next was a mess of branches, which were also effortlessly pushed away. Following that were several logs.

The collision of the logs with the train created a loud impact. The massive wooden pieces, heavy enough to require multiple people to lift, were sent flying. After spinning through the air, they landed on the train’s armor before rolling off to the side.

Further ahead, the tracks seemed clear, but upon closer inspection, numerous nails and small metal objects were scattered on the rails.

The locomotive trembled slightly but rolled forward unhindered, leaving behind a pile of flattened nails.

The final challenge was a series of rocks of varying sizes.

Old Ivan slowed the train as it steadily, irresistibly collided with the first stones. These were about the size of basketballs—roughly the heaviest an adult man could lift without tools—and they had been arranged in large and small clusters.

As the train struck them, they were pushed aside. Some were crushed under the wheels, ground into fragments.

Beyond that, even larger boulders awaited—half as tall as a person, the most serious obstacle a train could encounter.