Refugees continued to pour into Freedom City.
Every day, dozens or even hundreds arrived from all directions, dragging their families along, carrying tattered bundles, and leading children so starved they were little more than skin and bones.
They crowded at the city gates, waiting for soldiers to check their identities, waiting to be assigned shelter, waiting for a bowl of thin porridge.
The square was already packed with temporary sheds. People lay along both sides of the streets, and even the steps before the temple were occupied by refugees.
At this rate, they would have no choice but to live outside the city.
Leon stood before the window of the administrative hall, staring at the sea of heads outside, his brows tightly furrowed.
He had not slept for three days.
The food reports lay spread across the table. Every time he looked at them, his heart sank a little deeper.
Sophia stood behind him, holding a report of her own.
"At the current rate of consumption, the food will last forty days at most."
Her voice was soft, as though she feared disturbing something.
"Forty days." Leon repeated irritably. "What happens after forty days? Do we eat people?"
Sophia did not answer.
Leon turned around, walked to the table, and stared at the pile of reports.
Food, drinking water, medicine, clothing—every single thing was being consumed rapidly, and none of it had any source of replenishment.
Although no monsters had appeared outside the city for the time being, everyone had been scared out of their wits.
No one dared go out to farm, no one dared go hunting, and no one dared search for food.
Freedom City was like an isolated island, surrounded by death on all sides.
"We can't wait any longer," Leon said. "If we keep waiting, we