Chapter 264. The Island's Landscape

Ding! Ding! Ding!

The bell sounded, and the cacophony of sounds produced by the machinery halted abruptly. Numbed from the constant working, the workers glanced toward the clock on the wall with puzzled expressions on their faces.

Why was the bell sounding when it wasn't time to clock out yet?

Staring at the fiasco that unfolded, the workshop supervisor broke out in a cold sweat. Charles was a big shot from another island. If Charles got startled here, his role as supervisor was as good as gone.

Hearing a child's cries from beneath the machinery, Charles knelt on one knee to peer underneath. Through the gaps of the large and small gears, more than a dozen pairs of eyes filled with terror blinked back at him.

The supervisor accompanying Charles quickly sank to his knees and shouted at the children beneath the machinery, "Get out of there! Who did this?!"

Soon enough, a child dressed in tattered rags crawled out from underneath while clutching his severed hand. He was shivering, but no one knew if it was from fear or pain.

The supervisor grabbed him by the clothes and dragged him in front of Charles. In an obsequious tone, he said, "Sir, rest assured. I will severely punish the little brat who had startled your pet!"

"What were they doing under the machine?" Charles asked.

"Though this model is more efficient than previous ones, it requires constant oiling in large amounts. So, I hired these kids to work on that under the machine."

Under the gazes of all the adults, the child with the severed hand panicked. He cowered and retreated, trying to hide under the machine again.

"Why did you grab my mouse?" Charles looked at him with a calm gaze. The boy looked clearly no more than ten years old, and from his lanky figure, Charles knew he was severely malnourished.

Slap!

Before the boy could muster an answer, a slap landed on his face.

"Answer the question! Hurry up and answer!"

"Because... Because it was cute. I've never seen a red mouse before. I'm sorry," the child muttered between sobs as tears flowed down his cheeks.

Hearing the reason, anger painted the countenance of the supervisor. He raised his hand to slap the boy again, but this time, it landed on Charles' metal hand.

The collision of flesh against steel twisted his facial features in agony.

"They're already working in a factory at such a young age? What if their hair gets caught in the gears, and they get sucked into the machine?"

Enduring the pain, the supervisor forced a smile on his face and said, "Don't worry; our factory fully abides by the legal requirements. We even bought work insurance for these little kids."

His eyes briefly darted to the child whose severed hand was still bleeding before turning back to Charles with a smile. "Sir, you see, the kid's hand is already gone. If he gets fired, he'll probably starve to death. How about you let him off? Don't worry. I'll make sure he gets a good beating before throwing him out to soothe your anger."

A trace of surprise flickered across Charles' face. He took out a checkbook and wrote a series of digits on it. He then handed it to the supervisor and instructed, "Find someone to see if his hand can be reattached. If not, get him a prosthetic."

Upon seeing the number of zeroes on the check, the supervisor trembled. He tried to find the words to respond but failed.

Charles didn't pay the man any further attention. He turned and walked out of the workshop.

It was only a couple of moments after Charles left that the supervisor burst into excitement. He patted the child's head repeatedly.

"Kid! We're going to be rich!" the supervisor remarked and let out a hearty laugh. "Your hand is surely worth a fortune!"

Leaving the workshop and seeing the rows of identical buildings along the road, Charles lost any further interest in exploring. He figured the rest were likely no different from this one. This was a real factory benefitting off the actual blood and flesh of its workers; it dwarfed F*xc*nn's brutal working environment in comparison.

Charles headed back to the car with Lily, who had stopped crying.

The car engine started once more, and the landscape beyond the windows swiftly peeled away. However, Charles' mind was still on the events that had just happened—the numbed workers and the cumbersome yet inefficient machines.

Perhaps others would not sense anything, but Charles knew the immense power brought about by this electric industrial revolution.

It was a force more potent than relics and more powerful than the magic of the Western Seas.

Everyone commented that Swann was in deep trouble lately, but Charles was certain that as long as these factories remained operational, any amount of trouble was trivial to Swann.

In fact, Charles could bet on it that in three years, regardless of how much Julio's strength had increased, Swann would still be way more powerful than him.

"Mr. Charles, those kids are so pitiful. They look even younger than me, but they have to do such dangerous work every day. Can we help them?" Lily asked with her ears drooping and her voice laced with sadness.

Charles gently stroked her furry head but remained silent. This was an issue Charles couldn't render any help. A workers' revolution had to erupt here, which was the only way they could save themselves.

The car entered the island's heart, and immediately, the party spotted a noticeable shift in the demeanor of the people around.

Like on other islands, the central islanders were more well-dressed than those on the outskirts. Charles also noticed that many people had a white triangle on their foreheads—a distinctive identification of a Divine Light Order follower.

Their prevalence here was unnervingly high.

Swann seems quite content in his cooperation with the Divine Light Order. He really doesn't seem to have any guard against these cultists.

Charles thought to himself.

Typically, religion was used as a tool by the ruling class to pacify those below them, and most governors would control the number of religious followers on their islands to solidify their positions.

But judging from the current view he was seeing outside, Swann didn't restrict the spread of the Divine Light Order's evangelism.

"Mr. Charles, look at that man! His entire body is made from steel, just like your hand!" Lily exclaimed.

Charles looked in the direction that Lily pointed and saw several men taller and more robust than Elizabeth. They wore the same dark green uniform, and by the looks of it, they seemed to be security officers in the central district.

However, they were no ordinary humans. The space between their collars and their hands reflected a metallic sheen under the electric lights.

Entire bodies made from steel prosthetics?

Charles' eyes widened in surprise as he poked his head out for a closer look.

The leader of the group seemed to notice Charles' gaze and turned his head toward the direction of the car.

At first, Charles thought the

man

was wearing a monocle, but he soon realized that wasn't the case. There was no eyeball in his right eye socket. In its place was a lens, reflecting a blue glint.

The blue lens swiftly protruded outward and sharpened its focus on Charles.

The car sped away, and the group of

men

vanished out of Charles' sight. However, Charles' mind was far from calming down.

He had a prosthetic limb, too, but it had never crossed his mind that someone would replace their entire body with them. It was an astounding idea.

Recalling the teddy bear that had fitted his prosthetic and what it said about the special functions of these limbs, Charles realized that though these men might look just like any other person who had gotten parts of them replaced, they were actually likely to be powerful killing machines.

"It seems like the Albion Isles have quite a few other interesting things apart from the Ronker," Charles muttered to himself.

While he was lost in his thoughts, the car pulled up at the grand Governor's Mansion.

1. To avoid legal issues, I censored the name of the company in question, but I'm pretty sure a google search will show you results. Basically, they had quite a number of suicides and protests in their factories in China.