Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

Kyle clutched his gun, shivering as he leaned against the rough concrete wall, panting heavily.

Despite looking as strong as a bear, he was actually quite timid. Otherwise, back in Rhine, he wouldn't have chosen to work in a factory instead of joining a gang as an enforcer like others did.

He was originally from Rhine and had been implicated by that worker named Hughes. The Church of Candlelight had exiled him here. Just a month ago, he was still working in the factory, endlessly atoning for his so-called sins, believing his whole life would pass this way.

But now, he was actually on the battlefield.

"The fish-men are charging again! Get ready! Hurry, hurry!"

The squad leader yanked him hard. Kyle fumbled to pull bullets from his waist, but his trembling fingers slipped, and the bullets fell to the ground.

"Kid, use this one." A voice came from beside him. Kyle turned his head and saw another rifle being handed to him. A middle-aged man stood there—it was the political officer of their squad.

Seeing Kyle still in a daze, the officer stuffed the rifle into his arms, picked up the fallen bullets, and took away his empty gun.

Kyle instinctively pulled the bolt. The bullet was already chambered.

Just shooting the bullets was enough. No need to aim. On the battlefield, a bullet flying anywhere could still hit at least one enemy.

The fish-men surged forward in waves, only to be cut down like harvested wheat. The sound of machine guns firing from each fortress blended together, and bullets rained down more densely than the rain itself.

Arm monsters rolled forward like grotesque balls of flesh, crushing both the living and the dead under their mass as they crazily charged toward the fortress.

Kyle shut his eyes tightly, trembling, and pulled the trigger.

His gun shook slightly in his hands, and the gunshot was barely audible amidst the battlefield's chaos.

Chamber, fire, reload—his muscle movements grew more fluid, his shots more accurate, yet the battle line was still being pushed back towards the fortress.

Flesh and blood could not withstand gunpowder and bullets, but before them was an endless sea of flesh and blood.

"No, no, we can't hold them!" Kyle was terrified out of his mind. He threw down his gun and tried to flee.

He had only taken a few steps back when something caught his foot, and his entire world flipped upside down.

The political officer had grabbed him and thrown him to the ground with an over-the-shoulder throw.

A bottle of liquid was forced into his mouth, making him cough violently. Then, his collar was grabbed, and he was dragged aside before being set down gently.

He sat there dazed in the corner, watching his squadmates continue firing through the shooting slots.

They were his fellow captives from Rhine. Strangely, though their legs also trembled, they remained rooted in place, gritting their teeth and firing nonstop.

The political officer took Kyle's position, holding several bullets in his mouth for easy reloading, his firing precise and efficient.

Other than the officer raising an eyebrow at him occasionally, no one paid him any attention. Everyone was desperately focused on firing.

Kyle's sluggish brain gradually started working again. He looked down at his hands. It was the metal flask the officer had stuffed into them—still half full of sweet fruit wine.

He tried to stand, but his whole body shook uncontrollably—damn it, how had things come to this?

At first, they could barely hold the monsters back with rifled muskets. The heavy machine guns easily halted the creatures' advances.

But slowly, everything changed.

The monsters' numbers kept increasing. Even with upgraded weapons and the Banshees joining the fight, the battle only grew more difficult.

There were simply too many monsters—so many that it was unbelievable. The fish-men's corpses piled up into small hills, blocking their lines of fire. The Banshee squads had to charge out of the fortifications to blow up the corpse piles with explosives.

A violent explosion rang out—it was a Banshee's thrown explosive pack, signaling that the enemy was nearly upon them.

Kyle finally snapped out of his daze. He stuffed the flask into his coat, grabbed his rifle, stood up, and squeezed into the firing slot, chambering a round.

Through the firing slot, the sight outside stunned him.

The ground was littered with monstrous corpses—he had grown used to that sight.

But beyond the corpses, he noticed something unsettling.

Water.

Seawater. At some point, the rising seawater had already seeped into the fortress. Kyle felt a chill in his heart—this was Castel's core district. Even the cathedral's machine guns could reach this battlefield.

The seawater had risen this far. The cathedral was right behind them!

"The west side! The monsters are climbing the fortress!" The short-statured Hodge screamed. Kyle turned his head and saw that, indeed, the western fortress wall was crawling with monsters.

From the rooftop, explosive packs were being tossed down. The deafening explosions boomed like thunder, one after another, piercing through the rain of bullets.

The fish-men, however, were too many. They climbed faster than the fuses could burn.

Those hideous, disgusting fish-men reached the concrete fortress walls and then—

They began eating the walls!

Reinforced concrete—bullets could only leave white streaks and shallow dents on it. Yet, when the fish-men bit down, chunks of it broke off!

Kyle stood there dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open in shock.

Damn it, he had killed countless fish-men before. He had seen their corpses. Though grotesque and disgusting, they were still made of flesh and blood, easily pierced by bullets. How could these fleshly bodies possibly chew through concrete!?

A squad of heavily armored Banshees leaped from the walls, wielding long swords that spun into a blur of white, forming an impenetrable steel wall. They pushed back against the fish-men's assault, slicing apart every creature in their path.

The leading Banshee was particularly tall. Kyle had heard of her—her name was Ash, Castel's strongest warrior.

The fortress's Holy Guard erupted in cheers, and the more devout among them even recited prayers.

The Banshees charged forward briefly but did not linger in battle. After clearing the area around the fortress, they quickly retreated to reopen the firing slots for attacks.

Bullets and monsters clashed once more. The battle lines pushed back and forth, leaving behind a field of corpses.

Gradually, Kyle sensed something was wrong.

"Captain, these monsters are getting harder to kill!"

"Yeah, why do even the fish-men need multiple bullets to die now!?"

The captain frowned, watching the battlefield for a moment, his expression puzzled. But it was Hodge, with his keen eyes, who pointed at the ground and shouted:

"It's the seawater! These monsters are getting stronger when they stand in the seawater!"