Industrial Cthulhu, starting from the island lord

Chapter 490 Castells Syndrome
In an instant, Hunter felt a chill run down his spine. He slowly straightened up and looked around with trembling eyes.

People held utensils in their hands, ate the food on their plates, chatted with each other, and some were even flipping through sacred texts.

No one paid attention to the knives, forks, and plates in their hands, and no one cared about the materials on their feet and the ceiling.

It seemed like something completely ordinary.

Hunter looked down at his plate.

The stamping of the plates was very simple, and the edges were also rough. They were just made to ensure that they wouldn't cut your palms. They were far less exquisite than those silver-forged tableware.

The tables and chairs beneath them were of ordinary design, without any patterns or decorations, with only numbers and place of manufacture engraved in the corners.

Everything is just on the surface; these are ordinary daily necessities, consumables that no one cares about, and things that are completely insignificant.

But Hunter only felt a chill run through his body.

Is he insane, or is the world insane? Is he possessed, mistaking everything he sees for steel?
Such valuable strategic materials are being used to pave floors?

Wait, Hunter trembled as he looked up at the ceiling.

Ah, it's made of steel too.

A crazy idea suddenly popped into his head, and Hunter, disregarding everything else, rushed straight to the side of the ship.

Chaos erupted in the canteen. The two guards watching him were a moment late in reacting and quickly pushed him to the ground.

Hunter did not resist; he had already seen what he wanted to see, and his face was now filled with shock.

"Steel, steel, this is a steel ship!"

He could see everything clearly from the viewing window on the side of the ship.

The entire ship is made of steel, and its streamlined hull gleams with the distinctive luster of steel.

How big is this ship? Hunter couldn't estimate it for a moment. He felt his head was spinning, as if it were about to explode.

How much steel would it take to build this ship? Would all the steel in the entire North, emptying the warehouses of the three Grand Dukes and Earl Bazel, be enough?
Perhaps it would be enough, perhaps not; Hunter had no time to think about it anymore.

What he just saw from the ship's side was not just the steel hull, but also...
There was also a whole fleet of ships not far away.

The same ship, with a steel hull, a steel deck, and everything made of steel.

The ship had no paint or decorations, only numbered markings on the hull.

Hunter was pinned to the ground, his face pressed against the deck, the cold, rough steel making him feel as if he were falling into an abyss.

His gaze fell on the chair in front of him, where a series of numbers were engraved.

Yes, these steel behemoths are no different from the knives and forks in people's hands and the tables and chairs they sit on; they are just ordinary consumables.

"Consumables, just ordinary steel."

Hunter mumbled incoherently, countless memories churning in his mind, his eyes gradually losing their focus.

He is a scholar, a scholar specializing in mechanical engineering.

"Mentor, this is my research result!"

Hunter proudly pulled several neatly folded blueprints from the leather case. "Using my design can reduce the amount of steel parts in the catapult by 15%! All these support points can be eliminated and replaced with wood, while the overall strength remains almost unchanged, only the durability will be slightly reduced!"

The old man in front of me took the blueprints, picked up a magnifying glass to examine them carefully, and when he looked up again, his face was full of smiles.

"A brilliant idea! Hunter, how many designs have you made? You've modified almost all siege equipment, and remarkably, almost all of them are practical. Hunter, keep researching, you will change the world!"

"I will change this world."

Hunter sobbed as he looked around at everything before him, all he could see was steel.

He spent half a month pondering and studying repeatedly, but all he managed to do was save some steel materials.

The steel warships before us only have a simple number. No one cares whether it's economical or whether there's room for improvement. It's only worth one number; once one number is worn out, there's always another.

If the North were to use the machines he designed, and if the North were to fight for a thousand years, could the steel saved over a thousand years be worth more than this one number?
Whether it could withstand the attack or not, Castells didn't care. Castells could create the next number that wouldn't last a thousand years.

"Change this world? Me? Hahahahahahahaha"

Although he was pinned to the ground, Hunter didn't care at all. He laughed maniacally, his laughter was hysterical.

His face was covered in saliva and snot, and tears fell, dripping onto the stainless steel floor and breaking into tiny droplets.

Two guards dragged him out of the house, cursing and swearing.

"Damn it, another one's gone mad. Why are there so many Castells syndrome cases lately?"

"Castel syndrome?"

Hughes flipped through the report in his hand, his brow furrowed.

“Yes, the incidence of this disease is increasing.” Richard adjusted his monocle.

"Tell me in detail."

“Yes, my lord.” Richard spread out the documents in his hand one by one and handed them to Hughes.

"Since we started building the school in Blood Harbor six months ago, graduates have gradually passed the assessment and are able to come to Castells for further studies. Castells syndrome began to appear during this period."

"The main manifestations of this disease are sudden collapse, temporary madness, loud screaming, hysteria, delirium, etc. The current speculation is that after the patients saw Castells' various creations, they experienced a collapse of their worldview or cognitive collapse, which had serious consequences. These consequences interfered with reality to some extent, but not to the extent of cognitive interference; they only interfered with themselves."

"Interfering with oneself?"

"Yes, cognitive interference is the interference of personal will with reality. These patients are the opposite; their personal will has collapsed directly."

"That sounds serious."

"It is indeed very serious. If it were an ordinary person, it might take a long time to recover and reshape their worldview. The condition might be difficult to control, and they might go from temporary madness to unpredictable madness. They could have something happen at any time for a long time to come, or they might even enter permanent madness—that is, they would lose their reason forever."

"As for the extraordinary, it's even more serious. Their cognition is directly bound to the [anchor] in the Sea of ​​Ignorance. Once they develop symptoms, they may be directly polluted and eroded, and may even lose control and turn into monsters."

Hughes took a deep breath. Is it that serious?

Are there any treatment options?

“Not yet, but I’ve noticed something,” Richard said somewhat hesitantly. “Those in the secret order who worship you as a god don’t seem to get Castells syndrome.”

(End of this chapter)