Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

Chapter 619 : 《The Banshees Were Praying》

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Chapter 619: 《The Banshees Were Praying》

The ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍Banshees stood quietly, like statues cast from steel. Yet the fleeting, indifferent glints beneath their faceplates, and the subtle rise and fall of their bodies with each breath, constantly reminded the priests of the Silent Sanctum just how powerful the beings before them truly were.

Helena ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍felt as though her thoughts were being frozen solid.

She ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍stared blankly at the Banshees who had lowered their heads in prayer, standing there stiffly alongside the other priests, as if she had fallen into an icy abyss.

Her ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍reason seemed to be drifting farther and farther away, yet the body that had been tempered through battle reacted instinctively. Streams of information gathered in her mind.

There ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍were over a hundred of them—no fewer than the Burier ranks present. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, their discipline unmistakable. They were clearly capable of forming complex battle formations. Their armor was as thick as door panels; just listening to the dull, heavy sounds dragging along the ground made it obvious that this was no mere decoration.

Each ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍set of armor weighed at least several hundred pounds. An ordinary mortal might not even be able to stand after putting it on, yet on these Banshees it seemed light and effortless.

And with such enormous physiques, they undoubtedly possessed matching strength. Coupled with six arms capable of wielding weapons—

A scene suddenly surfaced in Helena’s mind: the Banshees lining up across the battlefield, silently drawing their long blades and launching a charge.

Their towering bodies were like a wall—a wall of steel. A moving wall of steel crashing forward across the battlefield. Any formation before them would be torn apart like paper, easily punched through, leaving behind only a road of crushed flesh and blood.

Even if one somehow managed to halt the Banshees’ charge, they would then have to face the cold, disdainful eyes beneath those faceplates. The long blades in their six arms would fall like a violent storm. Helena futilely raised her chain flail in an attempt to resist, only to realize that the enemy’s armor was even thicker than the tower shield in her hands.

How many Buriers would it take to hold back a single Banshee?

And just how many Banshees did Castel possess?

Helena did not know. She only felt her entire body trembling. Around her stood the elite forces of the entire Silent Sanctum. Even if they all joined together and stood fully armed—could they withstand a massed charge by the Banshees gathered in the great hall before them?

Banshees.

Helena felt as though countless great bells were tolling in her heart all at once—death knells from hell itself, rung by the Banshees’ own hands.

No. They had not even deigned to notice her, just as she herself had never noticed an insect she happened to step on. They merely advanced in cold silence, proclaiming death and finality to this world.

It was not only Helena. The other Buriers stood there just as dazed and stunned.

To be honest, these priests of the Silent Sanctum had never fully accepted the existence of the Banshees. No matter how human Nini appeared, she was still an alien being. Deep down, the priests carried a pride that belonged solely to humanity.

Alien races might be powerful, but humanity possessed access to supernatural paths. Transcendents could be produced endlessly, and in sheer numbers, humanity far surpassed them.

Quite a few priests had secretly calculated how many people it would take to defeat Nini alone. Some were optimistic, others cautious. They had even argued over these conclusions in private. Only now did they realize how laughable those thoughts had been.

Using numbers to overwhelm the Banshees? They were the ones at a numerical disadvantage!

The priests’ resolve wavered. Ignati, as the Patriarch, possessed a much firmer will and should not have been affected so easily.

Yet it was precisely that firm will that pushed him one step further. Ignati noticed even more.

Castel had previously been nothing more than an obscure island. Its reputation in the Northlands had been earned through solid achievements—but within that formidable reputation, Banshees had never once been mentioned.

In other words, the strength of Castel as they knew it did not even include the Banshees. Without Banshee support, Castel had still swept across the entire Northlands.

And now these previously unknown Banshees—could the entire Silent Sanctum combined defeat them?

Even if they could, then what? The Silent Sanctum would have merely crossed swords with the most obscure portion of Castel’s forces. Next, they would have to face the power that had effortlessly crushed the Northlands and shattered the joint expeditionary army of multiple dukes head-on!

Ignati’s mouth went dry, a deep sense of powerlessness washing over him. Suddenly, he recalled the statue at the train station—a man clad in knightly armor, raising a sword and charging toward a train.

At the time, he had found it ridiculous. But now, it was his turn to face the indescribable terror that was Castel.

How much nobler was a chain flail than a longsword?

How did a massed Banshee charge compare to a locomotive?

Their experience, their weapons, their tactics—what a joke. The faith, sacrifice, and heroism they had struggled to muster were nothing more than a knight roaring as he charged headlong into a train.

For the first time, Ignati embraced despair so completely.

Beside the others, Nini’s mouth had nearly split all the way to her ears.

She had exhausted every ounce of effort to hold herself together, but failed completely. She could only turn her back and cover her mouth, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

In the cathedral hall, the Banshees were silent, cold, and utterly motionless. With their heads lowered in prayer, they looked like devout believers.

But if one looked closely, they would notice that the tips of all their tails were trembling ever so slightly.

Fortunately, they had all pulled their faceplates down. At least that way, unlike Nini, they did not have to manage their expressions—the helmets covered everything tightly.

Within the mind link, the chat group was being flooded so fast it practically sparked. Forget Hughes—even with the Banshees’ ability to multitask, they were almost unable to keep up.

『So satisfying!』

『This feels amazing!』

『Hahahahahaha I can’t take it anymore!』

『Don’t move! Absolutely don’t move! You have to hold it together, Sister Una!』

『Did you see the looks on those Buriers just now? Like they’d seen a ghost!』

『And they’re all wearing patient gowns too—the comedy value doubled!』

『Totally worth ditching work and swimming over from the other side of the island. Even if the testing ground exploded, it’d still be worth the ticket price!』

『Why is Monica in the formation too? You’re not even two meters tall—throw this embarrassing shorty out!』

『Nini, stop laughing! Lean forward a bit—give us some facial close-ups!』

『Yes, yes, Monica, hurry to the second floor and do a multi-camera live broadcast!』

『Who’s going to draw this scene? Nini? Aren’t you going to publish ten or twenty issues about this?』

『Just call it “The Banshees’ Prayer.” How about hanging it right in the cathedral hall?』

『Doesn’t matter where it’s hung—the important thing is that every Silent Sanctum priest gets a copy.』

The Banshees were frantically spamming the group chat, yet in reality they remained extremely quiet. For a moment, the entire cathedral was so silent that a pin drop could be heard.

After all, this was the Castel Cathedral. Besides the Banshees and the people of the Silent Sanctum, there were also many Church Guard of the Imperial Truth, technical priests, and others present.

They too remained silent—some of them even wore expressions of terror.

“Quick, look down there!”

“What is it?”

“The Banshees—the Banshees are—”

“Don’t worry. Whatever the Banshees do is normal.”

“No, it’s not normal. They’re praying. Quietly praying, without saying a single word!”

“Hiss!”




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