Industrial Cthulhu, starting from the island lord

Chapter 593 So, Gwen isn't actually a superhuman?
"Lady Nora, have we gotten ourselves into trouble?"

Nora looked over the ship's side at the ships and airships outside and sighed softly.

While Castells stood ready, Gwen was on the ship.

After confirming Gwen's identity, Nini led a group to bring her down from the steel ark. The banshees were not afraid of the contamination and were the best option to handle the situation.

Gwen and Nora were then placed on the Black Pearl.

Although they were only a stone's throw from Castel, Nini still didn't choose to let Gwen go to the island—she had already caused so much trouble before even setting foot on the island, who knew what kind of trouble she would cause once she did.

“Hmph, what’s there to be afraid of?” Jeremiah, standing next to Gwen, pouted. “If I could get a ship this big, I’d be overjoyed. Who cares about Castel? If my ship is big enough, I am Castel.”

The deck beneath their feet creaked and groaned, and Jeremiah quickly patted the railing to reassure them: "Hey, I'm not saying you're bad, I just think, hey, that ship is really something!"

Gwen looked up at the steel ark not far away. She hadn't realized its size when she was standing on it, but now, from a distance, she could truly feel its immense scale.

Did this wondrous creation truly summon itself?
Gwen looked down at her hands, her face full of confusion.

When she looked up, she saw a hideous face etched with the marks of wind and sun. Gwen took a step back in shock, while Jeremiah, stroking his beard, slowly stood up.

"Little girl, you're really strange."

"Strange? What's strange about me? You're the strange one! You startled me!" Gwen said irritably.

"You clearly possess the strength of an extraordinary being, yet you don't look like one at all."

Gwen was stunned.

"What makes me seem unlike a superhuman?"

"I have met many extraordinary people. Some have good tempers, some have bad tempers, some are lazy, and some like to work overtime, but they all have one thing in common."

Jeremiah took a wad of tobacco from his pocket, put it in his mouth, and chewed it.

"They are all very stubborn."

“Captain Jeremiah, I used to be a pirate. Before that, I was just a poor guy making a living on the docks. Our ships back then were different from those now. We didn’t have so much steel or such powerful steam engines. Shipwrecks were normal, and it was common for entire ships to disappear in storms. Do you know what kind of person can be a captain?”

Gwen shook her head.

"Only those who want to be captains can be captains—do you think I'm just stating the obvious? Let me tell you, I've recruited countless sailors, and almost all of them just want to make some money and go back to have fun. They don't like the work on the ship; they just can't escape it. These kinds of people aren't even qualified to be sailors. You have to kick their asses with your boots to get them to do any work."

"But some people are different. You can spot someone who wants to be a captain at a glance, like a shark mixed in with a filefish."

"Some people are born to yearn for the sea. Such people will die in a storm, in the sea, rather than on some tattered bed on the shore."

“Even if the sea dries up, even if all the ships in the world run aground, Jeremiah I will still be the captain.”

The old pirate's voice was hoarse and deep, like a rusty bellows, always making you feel as if it would break down at any moment, but it stubbornly produced air.

"The same goes for the extraordinary; they are born captains, only their sea is not here."

Gwen's hand trembled slightly.

Jeremiah's slightly cloudy eyes reluctantly turned from the distant sea to Gwen's face.

“And you, you’re not. You’re like a little girl who sneaked into the captain’s cabin and grabbed the helm. The ship just happened to start moving, and many people took it for granted.” His cheeks twitched as he chewed his tobacco, but his eyes were fixed on Gwen. He held up two fingers, pointed to his own eyes, and then pointed at Gwen.

“I can tell you’re not the captain. Your delicate little head is full of confusion. You can’t find the sea where you’re about to drown, and you haven’t decided whether you want to board that ship or not.”

Gwen pursed her lips, looked down at the deck, and remained silent.

She knew the old captain was right; she was actually confused.

From the very beginning, she never intended to lead the resistance army; it was only because Lady Nora suddenly disappeared that the resistance army lost its leader.

Gwen, always the bravest in battle, would advance and people would follow, and by the time she turned around, the refugees in the North would be chanting her name.

She then led the refugees in the fight.

In combat, this is all she knows. When she's feeling lost, she picks up her sword, and all her troubles disappear. The noise around her quiets down, and she can hear her own heartbeat.

Each stroke carries the most primal vitality.

Then it was only natural that the longsword would slice through flesh and blood, and the iron boots would crush bones.

She thought this kind of life would continue forever, but then the expeditionary force arrived.

Heavy machine guns, dragon breath cannons, and bolt-action rifles; her longsword was also formidable, but...
Gwen eventually came to Castells.

She should have been happy, and she truly was. The place was as beautiful as heaven, and the people were very kind to her. She loved it here.

But here, there's no need to fight anymore.

Gwen locked her longsword and armor, along with her beloved heavy machine gun, in a box, and never opened it again.

Jeremiah was right; she could not find her sea. She was like a lost child who had forgotten even what she had lost.

Castel is a home for refugees, but she feels like she's still a wanderer.

"Little girl, what kind of ship do you want to board?"

"I"

Nora looked up at her. The Banshee and the crew had somehow gathered around and stood at a distance, quietly watching Gwen.

Gwen's breathing grew heavier, she clenched her fists, and her eyes shone.

"I want to fight, any kind of fight, with a longsword, with a machine gun, or if I have neither, I still have my fists and my teeth. I want to charge into battle, I want to see blood flow—mine or the enemy's, I don't care."

"I'm eager to fight."

A metallic buzzing sound came from the cabin. People turned around and saw two suitcases, Gwen's luggage that she always carried with her.

With a bang, a hole appeared in the top of the box, and a flash of silver light streaked through the air. When people came to their senses, Gwen was holding a longsword.

The longsword had never shone so brightly; it trembled slightly, passionately responding to its master's will.

(End of this chapter)