Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord-Chapter 217: You Lost the Heretical God!?

Not long after, Kenn and Jeremiah appeared in the cabin, panting heavily.

Jeremiah was holding a lantern and hadn’t forgotten to bring a crowbar.

The cabin was empty. The Black Pearl hadn’t been carrying much cargo to begin with, and this time, even the crew was sparse—it was practically an empty ship.

After searching through a pile of miscellaneous items for a while, the two of them finally found the wooden crate.

At the time, the crate had been floating on the sea near Castel. Jeremiah was in a hurry to investigate, so he salvaged it without giving it much thought.

Crates like this occasionally appeared in the ocean, usually containing worthless items. Valuable goods would have long since sunk to the seabed, leaving only empty crates drifting on the waves.

This crate was tattered, with its outer wooden slats swollen from soaking in seawater. Back then, they had simply assumed it was something discarded by a passing ship.

If it weren’t for the fact that it had been found near Castel, Jeremiah wouldn’t even have bothered to order it retrieved.

But thinking carefully, Castel had never been on any shipping route, nor did merchant ships come to trade there. That was why Hughes had specifically sent them to open up a route.

So where had this wooden crate come from?

Jeremiah pried open the rotting wooden slats with a few quick movements, revealing the interior filled with straw. After clearing the straw away, a smaller crate was revealed inside.

This crate had also been floating directly in the sea, yet there was not a single trace of seawater seeping into it.

Jeremiah examined the box carefully and sucked in a sharp breath.

“This is a crate made from very precious wood. I’ve seen similar ones in the treasure vaults of Gem Bay—they’re used to store the most valuable treasures.”

Jeremiah turned his head to look at Kenn. “Have you ever seen something like this before?”

Kenn hesitated before shaking his head. He hadn’t seen this crate before, but the pattern on it felt somewhat familiar.

It was a ball of fire, somewhat resembling the emblem of the Church of Candlelight, but the flames were much fiercer than mere candlelight.

The crate was heavy, about half a person’s height. Jeremiah found the keyhole and carefully inserted a wire, using a knife tip to gently turn the lock.

After a while, Jeremiah tossed aside the wire and knife, his expression darkening. He raised the crowbar and swung it down hard on the lock.

After smashing at it for quite some time, the lock remained completely intact, while Jeremiah was left panting.

“Damn it, this lock… won’t open!”

Kenn stepped forward, took the lantern from Jeremiah, and examined the lock under the light.

It didn’t seem to be purely mechanical. Looking into the keyhole, there were engraved patterns inside.

This lock appeared to be enhanced with extraordinary power. Ordinary lock-picking techniques wouldn’t work on it.

“Well? Can you open it?”

“No way. I’m just an engineer.” Kenn rummaged through his pockets as he spoke. “But I do have nitroglycerin.”

Boom!

The explosion shattered the silence of the night.

Crew members peeked out onto the deck, only to be chased back by the captain’s dark glare.

As the smoke cleared, Kenn assessed the damage. He had controlled the amount of nitroglycerin well—the lock was completely blown off, its remains nowhere to be seen. The finely crafted crate had been slightly deformed by the blast.

After calming the crew, Jeremiah eagerly picked up the crowbar and stepped forward.

With a few swift movements, the two of them pried open the crate.

Before they could even take a good look inside, Kenn felt his hand brush against something. freewēbnoveℓ.com

Startled, he stumbled backward, falling to the floor. The lantern nearly tipped over.

In the flickering firelight, he caught a glimpse of a pair of hollow eyes.

“Ah!”

Halfway through his scream, Jeremiah grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up.

The pirate captain reacted quickly—one hand dragging Kenn back, while the other had already drawn his cutlass.

The lantern flickered a few times before going out, plunging the room into darkness.

Kenn’s heart pounded as if it were about to burst from his chest.

Jeremiah’s breathing grew heavy. He pulled Kenn back slowly until they reached the doorway, then pushed the door open and stepped out.

Only then did Jeremiah let out a relieved sigh.

For a brief moment, when the lantern’s light had flickered, he thought he had seen… a corpse?

“What was that? Did you see it?”

“It seemed like…”

Kenn had wanted to say "a corpse," but recalling the lack of stiffness, the absence of a rotting stench, and other details, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Could it be a living person?

A person could certainly fit inside such a small crate, but could someone really survive in there?

Jeremiah had already begun loading bullets into his musket as soon as they left the room.

Now, it was ready.

He turned back to fetch another lantern and handed it to Kenn.

With a blade in one hand and a gun in the other, he kicked the door open.

Inside, a person was lying on the floor in an awkward position, as if they had fainted.

“Who are you?”

“…”

The figure on the floor did not respond.

Kenn hesitated before stepping closer with the lantern.

When the light illuminated the figure, both he and Jeremiah looked down—and immediately recoiled in shock.

“Hiss!”

They took a step back together, exchanging uneasy glances.

Kenn looked particularly shaken, while Jeremiah’s face twitched.

He stepped forward and used the tip of his knife to lift the person’s shirt.

A blood hole.

This was a corpse.

A body that had been sealed inside the crate for who knows how long, yet showed no signs of decay.

Jeremiah had seen plenty of dead bodies.

A corpse went through different stages—first stiffening, then softening, and eventually rotting.

He wasn’t an expert, but he had seen enough to roughly judge how long someone had been dead.

Yet this person… felt as if they had died just a moment ago.

Suppressing the eerie feeling in his heart, Jeremiah closely examined the body’s features.

It was a young boy, dressed in clean clothes—clearly changed after his death.

The blood hole in his chest was jagged, as if something had forcefully pierced through him.

The boy’s hands were calloused, suggesting he had done physical labor before.

“Do you know him?”

“No.”

Kenn shook his head.

The boy looked younger than him.

His face seemed vaguely familiar, but no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t recall who he was.

“This is strange… Who is he?”

—

Castel, in Hughes’ office inside the cathedral.

Chloe stood in the center of the room, wringing her fingers anxiously.

She stole a glance at Hughes before quickly lowering her head.

“So, you’re telling me… you lost a very important, very dangerous sealed artifact?”

“Yes. We clearly placed it in the safest, most heavily guarded Cocoon, yet it still vanished inexplicably.

We’ve searched everywhere, but we couldn’t find it.”

Hughes glared at Chloe, his expression growing darker.

These cultists of the Moths Chasing Fire… always managed to surprise him.

“What exactly was it?”

“It was a vessel meant for the descent of the Heretical God.

It had already been corrupted.”

Hughes blinked in confusion before suddenly realizing—

A worker… Hughes?