Altair stood frozen at the entrance of the warehouse, his breath caught in his throat. His heart thudded heavily in his chest, and for a moment, he couldn't bring himself to step inside.
Was this real? Could it truly be his?
To ground himself, he pinched his palm hard—wincing at the sharp sting. The pain was real. So was the cool draft brushing against his face. So were the supplies stacked neatly within the stone walls. No dream could conjure up such tangible presence.
He took a deep breath, then slowly stepped forward, brushing his fingers along the cold, solid wall. His hand trembled as it reached out to the nearest sack. The moment his skin touched the coarse surface, a strange sensation ran up his arm—like a pulse of energy. It wasn't his imagination. Every item inside this place felt… alive. Charged. As if the warehouse itself had been infused with power.
Curious and a little overwhelmed, Altair began to take stock of the supplies before him:
Five sacks of rice
Five sacks of flour
Four sacks of potatoes
Four sacks of sweet potatoes
Three sacks of corn
One sack of salt
One sack of sugar
Five small vats of lard
Two baskets of apples
Two baskets of bananas
Two baskets of lemons
A large basket of cabbage
Two baskets of eggs
Ten vats of clean water
Ten slabs of preserved meat hanging from the ceiling
His eyes widened with every item he counted. He had expected maybe a few sacks of grain. A handful of corn, if he were lucky. But this? This was a small treasure trove. Enough to feed a village for weeks.
"This much food... just for me?" he muttered under his breath, dazed. "No—us. For the three of us. Still..."
The system's generosity shocked him. Supplies like these were only found in the storerooms of noble households or merchant guilds. And now, it all belonged to him.
His hands curled tightly around the cloth sack as the weight of it all began to settle. They wouldn't have to go hungry again.
But then a thought struck him, that made him worried.
"System," he asked, frowning. "Won't some of this food spoil? The fruits, the vegetables, the eggs... even the meat?"
[The Host need not worry,] the system replied in its usual flat, calm tone. [All food stored within the warehouse is preserved indefinitely. Spoilage or rot will only occur if items are removed and left outside for prolonged periods.]
Relief surged through him like a warm wave. His shoulders sagged, and he let out a soft, incredulous laugh.
"Amazing... This place is basically magical," he murmured.
Now that food and shelter were secured, he knew what he had to do next.
"Time to bring Alvis and Verda here."
Before leaving, he grabbed a few potatoes and ears of corn and carefully wrapped them in a cloth before stuffing them into his travel bag. He'd use these to trade for utensils and supplies in town—just the essentials, that they could use immediately.
He exited the warehouse and activated the portal again. His mood is much better than before. He still felt like he was dreaming. The two children would probably be shocked when seeing this. Now, he was even more excited.
With a flicker of light, he stepped through and returned to the same desolate alley. He hurried to another area of town, where there were still shops that were open.
His first stop was a small, weathered store tucked between two taller buildings, its wooden sign swaying with a low creak in the breeze. Faint traces of soot and iron hung in the air as he stepped through the door, the floorboards groaning under his weight. Inside, the shelves were cluttered but organized—pots and pans stacked neatly, utensils hung on iron hooks, and bundles of firewood leaned in the corner.
Behind the counter stood an older man with a soot-stained apron and thick spectacles perched on his nose. He looked up as the door chimed, squinting at Altair.
"I'll need a few things," Altair said, stepping forward with purpose. "Two cooking pots, a sharp kitchen knife, plates, bowls, spoons, and cups. Also, charcoal and some firewood—enough for a few days' use."
The shopkeeper scratched his chin, his bushy eyebrows lifting. "Stocking up, are you? A wise move. Goods like these won't stay cheap for long—not with more folks pouring into town every day."
Altair offered a polite smile. "Something like that. I'm a bit short on coin, though… would you accept trade?" He opened the cloth bundle in his bag, revealing a few clean, plump potatoes and ears of corn. The vegetables glowed with unnatural freshness.
The old man's eyes widened. "By the gods… these look like they were just harvested this morning. Where'd you find these beauties?"
"Does it matter?" Altair replied calmly. "They're clean and fresh, no?"
The shopkeeper didn't need much convincing. He quickly snatched the goods from the bag, his gaze darting toward the doorway. "No, no, you're right! This is more than fair. Let me just tuck these away…"
He scurried to stash the vegetables behind the counter, glancing about as if worried someone might snatch them away. Altair noticed the way the man's fingers trembled slightly. Fresh produce like this has become rare.
"I'll wrap up the goods for you," the old man said as he began packing everything into a pair of thick cloth sacks.
Altair nodded and took the bundles once they were prepared. "Thank you. If I need more, I'll return."
"You do that," the shopkeeper said, already slipping back behind the counter and glancing down at the hidden vegetables like a dragon guarding treasure.
With everything secured, Altair left the shop and ducked into a quieter alley, slipping through the shimmering portal that led back to the stronghold. There, he quickly unloaded the supplies in the makeshift kitchen area he'd started setting up—stacking firewood in a dry corner, setting the pots and utensils aside neatly.
But there was no time to rest.
With the basics now in place, Altair reopened the portal and stepped back into the bustling town. His movements were quick, as he made his way toward the area where Alvis and Verda had stayed.
As he approached the makeshift camp, he noticed that the number of people in the tents had multiplied. More refugees had arrived since he left, and the camp was now teeming with unfamiliar faces. But among them, there were no signs of the two children.
"Where are they?" he muttered under his breath, scanning the area desperately.
The camp was nearly unrecognizable, filled with the clamor of new arrivals. Another village must have come. He felt the knot of anxiety in his chest tighten. His eyes darted from one familiar spot to the next, but there was no sign of Alvis or Verda.
Frustrated, Altair made his way toward a familiar woman sitting on a mat nearby, one who had been near the children earlier. She was busy sorting through some fabric, but she looked up when she heard him approach.
"Madam," he called out, his voice tight with urgency. "May I ask if you've seen the children who were here earlier? A boy and a girl—they were with me."
The woman paused, her brow furrowing as she thought for a moment. Then recognition lit up her eyes.
"Oh, those two?" she said, glancing over her shoulder. "Yes, I saw them. A boy—looked a little older—approached them. Seemed like they knew each other. They talked for a minute, but after that..." Her voice trailed off, her face clouding with concern.
Altair's pulse quickened, and he leaned in closer, his heart pounding in his ears. "What happened? What did they do?"
The woman shook her head slowly. "It was strange. The boy told him something, then they suddenly took off—bolted like scared rabbits. Looked like they'd seen a ghost."
Altair felt a chill run down his spine. His breath caught in his throat, and his grip tightened on the hem of his cloak.
The new villagers… could they be from the same village as Alvis and Verda?
His mind raced with unsettling thoughts. Then their parents could be here too. Had they recognized the children?
"Did they say where they were going?" Altair asked quickly, his voice strained with worry.
The woman shook her head, her expression apologetic. "No, sorry, dear. They were gone before I could ask. But they looked terrified, poor things."
Altair felt his stomach churn.
"Thank you," he said quickly, bowing in gratitude despite the rising panic inside him. Without another word, he turned and rushed off.
His thoughts were a whirlwind. What had that boy said to them? Who was he? What did he know that had scared them so much?
His heart pounded in his chest as he pushed through the sea of people. He had just promised them earlier that he would protect them, yet this had to happen. He should have brought them with him, and should have been more careful. Now, all he felt was a deep, gnawing regret and worry.