Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

Chapter 32: Hope

Hughes frowned and recalled for a moment.

He had very little information.

During the fleeting glance when shaking hands with Brother Kaeski, he only roughly remembered a few of the constituent elements.

Out of curiosity, he had made an effort to memorize the several "inscriptions" that made up Brother Kaeski.

Those inscriptions seemed to have subtle differences from the ones on the confessional wall hole he had just sensed.

Hughes had never been exposed to knowledge about these types of inscriptions.

However, in his previous life, he had seen many engineering blueprints and was already accustomed to constructing three-dimensional images of parts in his mind.

So at a glance, he felt that something was off.

The two types of inscriptions were essentially the same in their main structure, but their finer details were completely opposite.

Perhaps it was because they served different functions, after all, one was a fixed building, while the other was a mechanical composition of the human body.

Hmm?

Hughes thought of another point.

Brother Kaeski was almost indistinguishable from a human, with a normal flesh-and-blood sensation when shaking hands.

Yet, the Candlelight Church’s priest who had previously killed him was covered in exaggerated and abrupt mechanical components.

"Sir? Lord Hughes?"

Chloe's slightly wary voice came from the other side.

Hughes smiled and softly apologized to Sister Chloe on the other end of the confessional, assuring her that he was merely curious.

After some reassurance, Chloe still seemed doubtful but reluctantly accepted his explanation, after all, he had donated money.

She couldn't possibly kick him out over such a minor reckless action.

Besides, Hughes' apology was genuinely sincere, and Chloe quickly let go of her dissatisfaction.

"Then please speak. I will listen to your troubles."

Hughes gathered his thoughts.

The hidden extraordinary power of the Candlelight Church was merely an unexpected surprise.

He had indeed come here with many questions in mind.

"I have some worries, and there are also things I wish to ask Sister Chloe about."

He spoke carefully.

By the time he left the church, the sun was already about to set.

Hughes and Connor rode on horseback toward the manor.

There were no streetlights in this era, and traveling after dark was dangerous.

Fortunately, the manor was not far away, and he could return before sunset.

However, for the island's fishermen, returning home was not so convenient.

Hughes glanced at the uneven roads.

If he ever wanted to establish a night school in the future, he would first have to solve the problem of nighttime lighting.

Without illumination at night, all activities could only take place during the day.

He silently made a mental note of this and caught a glimpse of Connor’s slightly worried expression from the corner of his eye.

Hughes understood why his old butler was concerned.

The conflict between the royal family and the Church was practically out in the open.

As a vassal of the Empress, he was not supposed to get too close to the Church.

In truth, he had no intention of doing so.

The Church did indeed possess some extraordinary powers, but the risks of associating with them were simply too high.

However, Hughes' understanding of "risk" differed from that of most people.

He wasn’t particularly concerned about risks to his life.

After all, he wouldn't truly die.

To him, his body was more of a shackle than a necessity.

But the Church’s methods seemed to go beyond mere violence.

Hughes was vaguely worried that they might have some form of mental control.

The Church had a considerable number of fanatical believers.

Hughes wasn’t sure whether their devotion was natural or the result of some technique employed by the Church.

Based on his experience in the confessional, at the very least, the Candlelight Church had put great effort into designing the confessional.

If they applied the same level of ingenuity to manipulating people's minds, Hughes wasn’t willing to take that gamble.

"Don't worry, Connor. I don’t intend to have much contact with the Church,"

"I just need to understand the role they can play, you know, in case I ever need them for medical treatment."

Healing, including treating wounds and diseases, was one of the Church’s main responsibilities, and also one of their means of accumulating wealth.

Unlike the horrifying medieval medical practices on Earth, the Church in this world actually had some real abilities.

Hughes had just confirmed that firsthand.

He had discussed with Chloe the bloodletting method and four-humor theory from Earth, but she had only looked at him in confusion.

She even advised him not to believe in such "superstitions."

Then, Chloe explained various medical treatments to him, some of which already bore the rudiments of modern medicine on Earth.

Although she lacked concepts like bacteria, she understood the importance of disinfection and anesthesia.

Do not underestimate this point, having an understanding of disinfection and anesthesia at least prevented surgeries with a 300% mortality rate.

Even if the methods had a distinct Church-like style.

According to Chloe, the Church possessed something called "Holy Water."

Using it to rinse wounds could prevent infection and festering.

Surgical needles and knives also had to be cleansed with it.

Burning a specific type of incense while reciting prayers could induce temporary unconsciousness in patients, making them insensitive to pain.

Hughes was almost certain that extraordinary power was involved in this.

Chloe's described process of making Holy Water had nothing to do with proper disinfection.

Yet, it still had the effect of sterilization and preventing infection.

Sigh.

Hughes didn’t understand why this world insisted on hiding the existence of extraordinary power.

It could clearly benefit so many ordinary people.

Castel Island was blessed with abundant resources.

Whether it was fish from the sea or sweet fruits from the forests, it was hard for people to starve here.

However, in his previous descents, Hughes had seen plenty of people die of hunger in the Empire.

Even in the capital, Rhine, there were vast slums.

Factory workers had an average lifespan of less than thirty years, and even that was considered an enviable job.

This world was, without a doubt, sick.

Hughes’ eyes darkened.

He was not born a saint.

With the ability to descend into bodies, all he had originally wanted was to enjoy life and bask in admiration.

But with each descent, he had only seen souls suffering in pain, people collapsing by the roadside, clutching their unfulfilled hopes.

Gradually, his initial thoughts faded.

He had a heart; he had emotions.

Since he had the knowledge to change the world, since he had so many bodies and did not need to fear death, why not try to do something?

The more he descended, the more resolute he became.

He would let the tide of industry sweep through this world.

He would let the blood of greedy nobles stain their gold coins.

He would bring executioners who ignited wars to the guillotine.

He would make sure that even the poorest, weakest souls had bread on their tables.

Industry would bring many new problems and new pains, but regardless, it was progress.

And progress was better than stagnation.

No system could solve all problems forever.

Hughes couldn’t either.

But he could bring people hope.

As long as hope exists, humanity, with all its strength, will always find the bravery to press on.