Chapter 53 Since when is science such an inconvenient thing!

Page (1/3)

Perhaps it’s best to just continue on by the rules of this world. With the silent aid of the banshees, the backing of the quiet sanctuary, and the pirates as allies, he could hold his ground in the stormy ocean. He would rise to become the true Count Hughes, then Marquis, Duke, and perhaps even be crowned Emperor of the Empire, uniting the entire continent.

These were magnificent prospects.

But why... did he feel somewhat... uninspired?

Hughes anxiously grasped his hair.

“What did I come here for?”

To enjoy life? To while away the boredom of a golden throne that never moves? Or like a true dark god, simply to find amusement, to inhabit a vessel at random?

It seemed a bit of all these, yet somehow none. Hughes’ gaze grew more confused as memories flashed relentlessly before his eyes, until—

A faint figure appeared in his mind, accompanied by a hoarse voice.

“Servant of the dark god, you have defiled the sacred machinery.”

An iron arm pierced through worker Hughes’ chest, his blood staining the wooden floor of the office crimson.

Hughes’ unfocused eyes sharpened.

It was that death from before.

What had he done then?

He had improved the factory’s machines, told his fellow workers engaging stories to bring a glimmer of hope to their dull and numb lives, and tried to share knowledge with every struggling, doomed soul.

In Rhine, the average lifespan of these workers was less than thirty.

“Me, a servant of the dark god?”

Hughes straightened up in his chair.

The ocean’s pollution had persisted for a thousand years; a millennium ago, the Church sealed off information about the contamination, and the supernatural kept away from the sea.

A thousand years later, the Church still concealed the truth, and the ocean remained choked with filth.

Nothing had changed.

“I have defiled the sacred machinery?”

The workers coughed amid dust-filled factory halls, flesh and blood occasionally pulled into the grinding machines in a moment’s negligence.

The factory owner bowed low, smiling sycophantically. The mechanical priest expertly dismantled bearings, sneering as he tossed parts to the floor, into Hughes’ blood.

His blood dried time and again, he descended repeatedly, disappointed over and over.

Page (2/3)

Those workers had only interacted with him for a few days, but he had felt their suffering for many years.

Now, he too was qualified to oppress others—to sink into complicity.

Should he go along?

“Dream on!!”

Hughes spat the words through clenched teeth, standing and kicking the chair aside!

Was this world meant to be like this? Was he to live such a life? To be like these people?

To stand alongside those rotten, greedy nobles, the conservative and arrogant Church, the cold and cruel capitalists, and be told this was a blessing?

How could he accept that?

“I remember now.”

A burning emotion surged within his chest, sweeping away the trivial confusion and self-doubt, fueling the fire even hotter.

“I have descended time and again to smash this rot to pieces.”

This world was strange and mad—so what?

Science was the method to understand the world, the standardized procedure to explore the unknown, the truth born of countless questions and debates, a hymn of courage and reason composed by humanity. It had never been weak for a moment.

Radioactive material on Earth harms upon contact, yet humanity still strides steadily toward the sun.

The speed of light is eternal and unbreakable, the observer effect bizarre and perplexing, counterintuitive phenomena abound—has the world ever existed according to human expectations?

Earth was not the center of the universe, nor was the sun. Humans were but tiny specks of dust in the cosmos, yet they still relentlessly explored the world.

Hughes looked at his own hands.

Indeed, this world was strange and mad, but humanity’s footsteps still traversed land and sea.

This world was different from Earth, so he would adapt. The rules here were bizarre and wild, so he would study them.

Moreover…

Was the knowledge in his mind really worthless?

Water pressure still solved the banshee’s curse; steam engines in factories could still be improved for efficiency.

These were only the simplest applications.

Suddenly, Hughes recalled the stories he told the workers during his last descent.

Could it be that the scientific knowledge in his mind was, to the people of this world, a kind of…

[Pollution]?

Page (3/3)

And further still, might the industrial goods he produced become a form of pollution?

If he trained many engineers in the future, could the knowledge and reason in their minds become a new supernatural power?

Supernatural classes: [Engineer], [Scientist]—just imagining it was fascinating.

People on Earth could wield scientific knowledge; if so, could he…

Use pollution?

Defeat magic with magic? Pollute pollution itself?

“If science truly is another kind of pollution, could I use this pollution to combat other pollution?”

“If there’s no way to eradicate the pollution, why not embrace it?”

If you cannot beat it, join it. If you cannot solve the problem, become the greater problem. Since contact with the supernatural inevitably brings pollution, why not pollute oneself first?

That would truly be arming the mind with science.

Then, the future Castle, filled with factories, with oil as its lifeblood, smoke as its breath, nourished by ore and steel, roads clogged with goods, ports crowded with ships—how would they be seen?

His warriors charging forward, loudly chanting probability theory and linear algebra; his shells inscribed with E=mc² whistling through the air, flames and pollution erupting on the battlefield. Fire attacks their bodies, science assaults their souls; the enemies howl in agony, begging for the knowledge to leave their minds.

His registers sang in binary; the buzzers on his chips and circuit boards sounded automatically—what a scene that would be…

Gazing upon it would probably drive one mad.

Leaving aside pollution and scientific creations, even ordinary commodities could shock this world’s people.

When their clothes, vehicles, food, even the Church’s holy symbols were all made by him, how would they view Castle?

A tiny island? Or an indescribable colossus?

When the Church’s faithful prayed over the sacred texts he printed, whose followers were they truly?

That would certainly be fascinating.

“Good thing I’m not some dark god, or this world might really be doomed,” Hughes smiled.

He turned and opened the door. “Connor! Have Alexei come by tomorrow—I want to discuss workshop matters. Also…”

“Now, come with me to the chemistry lab!”