Castel.
The furnace beneath the main cathedral had finally been completed. According to the originally planned schedule, it was only supposed to be ignited around this time. But plans could never keep up with changes — the Pirate King had already been burning in the furnace for quite a while now.
Today, the final top cover plate was installed. The largest furnace in Castel’s history — and likely the largest in this world — had finally begun full operation.
Although the furnace had already been burning previously, it had not been connected to the supporting equipment. First, the pipeline network hadn’t been fully constructed — this part of the planning had to progress with the main furnace. Second, the internal workflow of the factory hadn’t yet been fully transformed.
This completion ceremony could be said to mark the definitive end of the Deep Sea War. Castel could now move forward without concern, and truly begin its outward expansion.
So, after the equipment had undergone its basic testing, almost all of the island’s residents, aside from a few workers maintaining operations, had gathered in the main cathedral.
The cathedral had been designed to be massive. Its central atrium, now open to the sky after the ceiling was dismantled, became the perfect viewing platform. The Holy Guard and Banshees were busily maintaining order. Engineers were conducting the final adjustments.
Led by Nini, the new newspaper members were randomly interviewing spectators and writing news stories with dramatic flair — ever since learning about the newspaper project, Nini had thrown in 300% of her enthusiasm.
Other Banshees had fiercely competed for the role of reporter. From news writing styles to crafting eye-catching headlines, they had quickly iterated through various versions. By the time Nini won the election for editor-in-chief, the articles they wrote gave Hughes a strange sense of familiarity.
The Banshees were just too good at this. It seemed there was nothing Banshees couldn’t do.It couldn’t be helped — their Mind Link made communication within the species astoundingly efficient. And communication happened to be the foundation of all progress.
Aside from the Banshees, many Holy Guard soldiers also attended in full uniform.
During previous battles, the Holy Guard hadn’t worn standardized outfits. Every bit of Castel’s production capacity had to be used with precision.
Now that the war was over, Hughes could finally devote attention to light industry. The principle behind textile machines wasn’t complicated. The Moths Chasing Fire mechanics had made some improvements based on this world’s textile machinery, and this batch of uniforms was their first completed product.
Castel produced neither cotton nor wool, but there had been a considerable stockpile in Gem Bay. Hughes had it shipped over to manufacture these uniforms.
Though shipbuilding progress was still somewhat slow, the *Celestial Behemoth* airship happened to be unused. So Hughes had it dispatched to Gem Bay, ferrying over useful but cumbersome materials, bit by bit, back to Castel.
For now, no official sea routes had been established. These materials constituted the very first batch of industrial raw materials.
“How are the preparations?” Hughes asked Alexei beside him.
Recently, Alexei had set aside his duties as Chief Secretary and returned to his old profession, focusing fully on military matters.
Though the war had ended, the training and personnel organization of the Holy Guard still required considerable attention. Tasks like maintaining order and organizing today’s event had fallen to him.
Alexei was in good spirits. The crucible of war had matured him significantly. He replied without hesitation, “Basically ready. Representatives from both the Holy Guard and the Moths Chasing Fire are here. All the Banshees are in place. For the representative of the fallen… I mean, Chloe — her name’s already been placed up top.”
Hughes nodded. This ignition ceremony wasn’t just a celebration. It was also a tribute to those who had died in the past war.
Throughout the entire conflict, significant casualties only began to appear when the seawater surged in at the end. But thanks to the swift resolution, the final count of dead and missing settled at 219. A full fifth of the Holy Guard never returned.
Most of them died in battle. Many left behind no remains — whether it was the Murlocs or the Sea Urchin Monsters, none were opponents a human body could directly resist.
The Moths Chasing Fire also suffered their share of losses. Many had served as political commissars within the Holy Guard — a role that supposedly didn’t require charging into battle. Yet they had charged ahead faster than anyone.
It was their presence that allowed Castel to hold out to the very end. Even when the sea surged in and Castel teetered on the brink of submersion, morale never collapsed. Despair instead drew out the soldiers’ survival instincts, allowing them to stubbornly hold the final defensive line at the cathedral.
A memorial stele for the fallen had been erected at the top of the cathedral — the spot with the best view. All around it was Castel, now gradually springing back to life. In the future, when the city thrived once more, perhaps the dead could truly rest in peace.
Chloe’s diary was hung on the memorial stele. Her name was also engraved upon it. Though she had vehemently objected to it, the inscription had been made nonetheless — her unhesitating sacrifice deserved this honor.
As for Monica, she was not standing on the observation platform. Instead, she was below at the furnace, preparing to conduct a Machine Soul awakening ritual. Though the Machine Soul in this furnace had already awakened, Monica insisted on summoning it again — she felt it gave the event more of a ceremonial touch.
Very soon, all preparations were complete. Hughes stepped onto the high platform.
This was the fourth level of the cathedral. The original railings had been removed and replaced with a platform protruding outward.
Hughes looked around and suddenly felt a bit dazed.
When he had first arrived on this island, it had been nothing but barren wasteland. The tallest structure had been the manor he’d hastily built — three stories high. The sea tax he paid had been dried fish and sweet fruit wine.
And now, he stood within a permanent structure built from reinforced concrete. Around him, people leaned against railings, waving their hats and cheering for him.
The Banshees stood within the crowd, laughing and joking freely, indistinguishable from one another. The Holy Guard wore immaculate, crisp uniforms, each gripping a bolt-action rifle polished to a gleam.
Farther out, the researchers of the Moths Chasing Fire pointed and gestured at the massive furnace below. Steam rumbled through the pipes, humming like a chorus of praise.
Everything had changed. The utopia he once dreamed of had descended upon the mortal world.
They had built factories. They had fought against monsters from the deep sea. They had touched the authority of gods. They had intervened in the continent’s conflicts.
Although this was just the beginning, Castel — this steel behemoth rising from the sea — had already revealed its savage fangs.
This was what he wanted. This was what he loved. He didn’t wish to be some noble, nor a god. He simply wanted to see the fire of industry bloom across the land and burn in every heart.
Let that which is old, rotten, and obstinate — be crushed beneath the flood of steel.
Sunlight poured down, illuminating the cathedral’s atrium.
Hughes raised his hands out to either side, as though bathing in the sunlight, as though embracing it all.