Supply Cut Off (Part 2)

The road ahead was not far. One-Ear leaped through the breach and landed heavily on the filthy chalky stone floor a meter below the shattered doorway.

He raised his gun and swept the area, ready to fire.

As he did so, he heard a thud as the adjutant landed beside him, panting.

"Could you make the jump?"

the Snotling boss asked in surprise.

The adjutant grunted.

"Same as always. Let's get this done."

The warehouse was huge—several hundred square meters—but its ceiling was very low, and its walls had been crudely carved from the rock.

It looked abandoned and smelled as stale as a tomb.

Yet it was vital to the entire garrison of Mount Mishil.

Only one thing filled the room—hundreds of iron cargo containers. They were not particularly large, each two meters long, one meter wide, and one meter high, but every one of them was protected by an energy field that made the air hum and cast a pale glow.

These containers held the military rations the Mount Mishil garrison depended on to survive. One-Ear was standing in the largest food reserve depot within the entire mountain.

Only officers of division rank or above knew the exact location of this depot. Every requisition required more than ten procedures and the assistance of a Wizard, simply because these provisions were too important to the garrison.

Without bullets, they could still use bayonets. But without food, even the strongest warriors would become patients too weak to fight.

"Something is approaching."

One of the agents stationed outside suddenly ran in.

"How long?"

One-Ear asked, putting away his weapon and moving toward the containers.

"Soon. Not much longer."

One-Ear shook his head. He knew the report would not be precise. They did not have much time left to work.

"Everyone move,