Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord
Chapter 230: In the Face of Explosives, the Extraordinary and the Ordinary Are Equal

The explosion erupted, and moments later, the shockwave slowly followed.

From high above, Hughes saw the air being compressed before bursting into massive ripples, sweeping across the battlefield and turning everything that could move into something that could not.

Although it appeared slow, that was only from his omniscient vantage point. The murlocs standing nearby were instantly vaporized, while those slightly farther away felt the air suddenly solidify into a high wall crashing toward them.

As the shockwave advanced, the battlefield was emptied. Countless murlocs were sent flying, carried by the blast and smashed against the fortress.

In no time, the fortress looked as if it had been coated with a fresh layer of paint—a thick layer of blood and flesh.

A single grenade carries about 50 grams of explosive charge, easily capable of killing a small group of enemies. If that amount increases to one kilogram, it could demolish a concrete house.

The bomb dropped from the airship weighed 200 kilograms.

Never before had such an explosive been used on the battlefield. The Holy Guard witnessed a scene they would never forget: those grotesque, twisted monsters—whether they were murlocs only slightly taller than humans or towering arm monsters several stories high—were all equally annihilated in the light of the explosion.

Many were temporarily blinded by the searing brightness. At that moment, all they could see was the overwhelming radiance—just as their hearts were consumed by it. The destructive explosion was forever etched into their souls.

Several kilometers away, at the Eastern Test Site, the Moths Chasing Fire, Chloe, Nini, and others were rendered speechless.

They had witnessed the explosion firsthand. Seven or eight seconds later, the sound of the blast reached them, followed closely by the shockwave. Though it was nothing more than a gust of wind by the time it reached them, no one said a word.

Nini was a banshee, a naturally powerful species akin to a killing machine. Chloe was an extraordinary being, effortlessly wielding strange abilities. Yet, if they had been beneath that bomb, they would have met the same fate—equal in death with ordinary humans, monsters, and even ants on the ground.

That bomb was made by ordinary people. Workers at the munitions factory could produce one in a few hours. A single factory had multiple production lines, and Castel had several such factories. Every few days, a new one could be built.

Chloe’s request for gunpowder had not even reached Hughes’ desk—such a quantity required no special approval.

Extraordinary power was formidable, but industrial power crushed it with ease.

A sudden realization struck the extraordinary beings, cultists, and supernatural creatures alike: perhaps, in the face of industry, they were all just ordinary people.

There was no difference.

What was truly eerie, powerful, and beyond comprehension was not them—it was the knowledge recorded on pages, the poetry written jointly by physics, chemistry, mathematics, and mechanics. It was the Clamorer loudly recited on the production line. It was the boundless capacity of the factory.

Atop the fortress.

The banshees had arrived, wielding massive steam rifles. These were originally meant to be used in case the monsters charged, allowing them to drive them back with concentrated firepower.

But the explosion came too soon. They had to crouch, taking cover behind fortifications to avoid the shockwave. By the time they stood up, there were no enemies left standing on the battlefield.

The banshees raised their rifles in confusion, unsure of where their enemies had gone.

They were powerful supernatural beings. In every battle before this, they had acted as a crisis response force, handling threats that the Holy Guard could not. Their arrival often marked the turning point of a battle.

But this time, the battlefield did not seem to need them at all.

Strong bodies, unshakable wills, ancient extraordinary bloodlines—what did any of that matter?

All were replaced by a single, ordinary bomb.

The banshees exchanged glances and fell into silence.

The battle was over. Yet, in the eyes of the defenders, there was no joy in victory—only bewilderment.

The sheer power of industrial creations had surpassed everyone’s imagination. They required no cheers, no understanding, no battle preparation speeches. They simply destroyed everything.

The battlefield no longer felt familiar. The Holy Guard clutched their sacred texts, seeking solace.

Thankfully, these mighty weapons were on their side. Mr. Alexei would record these events in the scriptures, and they would learn in time.

The Holy Guard had only just mastered their new tactics, yet now even those seemed outdated by the new weapons. These ordinary people, too, now felt the weight of being chased by advancing knowledge.

Chloe reluctantly withdrew her supernatural powers. She had planned to have the airship circle back, but now it seemed unnecessary.

The shockwave from the explosion had already twisted the airship into a mangled wreck. The hydrogen inside had ignited, causing another explosion, but it was nothing compared to the sun that had risen on the battlefield.

Yes, next time she dropped bombs, she needed to fly higher, Chloe mused to herself.

The momentary feeling of loss quickly faded. Excitement took its place. The terrifying explosion, the immense power—it had completely enthralled her. Chloe was an extraordinary being, but she was also a researcher. At this moment, she had found her next direction.

Such devastating explosions were exactly to her taste.

Inside the explosives factory, Gaia carefully removed her protective goggles and lifted her head from the production line machinery.

Many workers stood up as well, murmuring about what had just happened outside.

She knew exactly what had happened. Chloe had asked her for the explosives. If she hadn’t been tied to the factory, she would have loved to see the airship’s test firsthand.

Hughes had entrusted her with managing explosives production. Gaia had always loved chemistry. She had shown unparalleled talent in this field during her advanced studies, but she had never witnessed such a large-scale detonation before.

She reached up and touched her forehead, feeling a thin layer of dust. The explosion had caused the sturdy concrete-and-steel factory to tremble slightly. So this was the power of an explosion?

Perhaps she was beginning to understand the reverence some people had for explosives.

Gaia looked down at her hands. She was just an ordinary person, possessing little strength. Yet, the bomb that had shaken everyone to their core had been made by someone like her.

Taking a deep breath, Gaia lowered her head and resumed inspecting the production line. She had responsibilities to fulfill. The workload was heavy. This was no time for idleness.

"Comrades, do not be alarmed. You have all heard the sound just now—that was our weapon, the one we crafted with our own hands, eliminating the enemy. The frontlines need our support. For Castel, for our Lord, let us continue our work."

The workers cheered, voices interwoven with praise and prayer. Soon, they returned to the production line, and the machines roared back to life.

Gaia wiped the sweat from her brow, glanced up at the sky outside, and smiled.