Sunny didn't know how long he had slept, only to be awoken by a knock on the cabin door.
As his eyelashes lazily fluttered open, his gaze instinctively drifted to his side—Lilith was no longer there. It seemed she had gone to put more things in order, Sunny thought, pressing a button on the control center. The cabin door slid open immediately, revealing Dracula standing there.
"Look who slept for so long," Dracula teased with a faint smirk, leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms folded.
"You have no idea," Sunny replied lazily, voice still heavy with sleep, awaiting whatever information Dracula had come to deliver.
"Anyway," Dracula began, "the first batch of iron ore has been harvested. So far, so good—no monsters or zombies have been spotted, which makes the work incredibly easy." He turned his gaze toward the glass window of the main cabin, observing the bustling sight of slaves submitting mined iron ore while thugs patrolled the perimeter.
"Have the number of ores been counted?" Sunny asked, rising from his seat and walking toward the door, Dracula following behind him.
"Not yet," Dracula answered, "since the submission process is still ongoing. But I doubt the slaves can continue working much longer without food—many of them look fragile."
As they stepped outside the train, the chilling wind of the darkened sky greeted them.
"How long did morning last?" Sunny asked, his eyes narrowing as he spotted Lilith approaching with an eager smile spread across her face.
"Not sure," Dracula said, his cloak fluttering calmly in the wind. "But if I were to estimate, I'd say about two and a half hours—if not less."
"The wind feels colder… more aggressive," Sunny murmured, spreading his arms to embrace Lilith in a tight, warm hug. For a moment, time stilled between them—until they gently pulled apart.
"Good night, Master," Lilith said playfully, her tone laced with sarcasm.
"Night it is," Sunny replied with a faint smile, understanding the real logic behind her words.
"Master," Lilith continued, her voice soft but edged with concern, "I don't think the slaves can keep mining without proper food to sustain them. Exhaustion has claimed most of them."
She turned her gaze toward the weary slaves—mothers holding trembling children close, elders shivering as they sat on the cold ground, while the youth and teens sat silently, their faces hollow with fatigue.
"Yes, I know," Sunny said calmly. "Once all the iron ore has been submitted, I'll see to it that everyone is properly fed. Those who mined more will receive extra portions to encourage the others to work harder."
With that, they stood silently for about fifteen minutes, watching until the final loads of iron ore were submitted. Only then did Sunny turn back toward the train, entering with steady purpose to create a food production line before upgrading anything else.
He entered Carriage No. 6, which had been completely emptied earlier. A small mountain of iron ore glittered faintly in front of him—dark and dull compared to gold, yet beautiful in its own rough way.
Just then, the system's mechanical chime echoed in his mind.
Ding! Number of iron ore mined: 4,500.
"How much iron ore does it cost to craft a moldy bread production line?" Sunny asked mentally. "And how much to produce one hundred slices of moldy bread? Same goes for the water production machine."
The dim red light mounted on the ceiling of Carriage No. 6 blinked slowly as the system's cold voice responded:
[To craft the Moldy Bread Production Line will cost 850 iron ores. It will include a mini generator solely for its operation and will consume 300 iron ores every seven hours. One hundred slices of moldy bread will cost an additional 50 iron ores.
The Water Production Machine will cost 500 iron ores to manifest and will consume 450 iron ores every half day. However, if you wish to reduce the consumption rate, an upgrade costing 7,000 iron ores will allow conversion of any liquid substance—such as feces or urine—into purified, drinkable water. Would you like to begin production?]
Ignoring the question, Sunny ran quick mental calculations. "If one hundred slices of moldy bread cost fifty iron ores," he thought, "then feeding one thousand people one slice each would require five hundred iron ores. But one slice won't be enough—if everyone gets four slices, that's two thousand iron ores. Not bad… affordable enough. So, it'll cost roughly two thousand and fifty iron ores to cover both the bread and setup."
"Begin production," Sunny commanded.
Instantly, a large portion of iron ore dissolved into powder, swirling into the air before merging at both sides of the carriage. Two massive machines materialized—a long, segmented structure lined with smaller units beside it, and another smaller, pipe-covered mechanism that emitted a faint metallic hum.
Both machines whirred to life simultaneously, fulfilling their intended functions. Sunny approached to examine the results. The bread appeared coarse, a bit sandy in texture, but edible. The water, though slightly brown, was still drinkable.
Not wanting to bother with trivial details, Sunny waved his hand to store the remaining ores in his ring—but nothing happened. He tried again, several times, frustration mounting—until the system interrupted with another notification.
[Gadget detected: Storage ring from another world cannot store items within this train. Use the system's internal storage space instead—simply think of the item, and it will be stored automatically.]
"Store away," Sunny commanded coldly, watching as the ores vanished. He then exited the carriage.
As he approached, both Dracula and Lilith met him halfway.
"Master, has the food issue been resolved?" Lilith asked, hope shining in her eyes.
"Yes," Sunny replied. "It's been taken care of. Organize a group to distribute the food. Make sure everyone receives their fair portion. At first dawn tomorrow, they'll resume mining."
Lilith nodded quickly and hurried off to carry out his order. Dracula watched her for a moment, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"She's one kind soul," he said softly.
"Yeah," Sunny replied lazily, "she's an angel—what do you expect?"
"Not much," Dracula said with a smirk. "Anyway, I was thinking… we can't keep letting the thugs use sticks as weapons. Sooner or later, they'll lose their intimidation factor. And I suggest increasing their numbers—fifteen to twenty more men at least. Security will tighten, and honestly, I've got a bad feeling. Things have been too quiet lately… unnaturally quiet."
Sunny gave a faint, amused smile. "Looks like even you have a serious side. Who knew you could be this observant?"
Dracula didn't respond, unbothered by the teasing.
"Alright," Sunny continued, "I'll leave the selection of new recruits to you. I'll handle the weapon issue soon—once I've sorted it out, I'll call for you."
He turned to leave, but Dracula's voice stopped him midway.
"Yes?" Sunny asked, glancing back as the wind whispered around them.
"Well… uh, about that…" Dracula scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm a little hungry."
Sunny arched a brow, lips curving into a smirk. "Well, isn't this a surprise? You can actually be shy. I'm relieved you still have a shred of shame left. Come to me when you're done here."
Dracula could only chuckle as Sunny walked away toward the motionless black train, its frame looming like a sleeping beast against the dark sky. Watching sunny back fade into the shadows, Dracula murmured softly, almost to himself,
"He really does have the spirit of a leader. Cold on the surface—but surprisingly considerate where it matters."
With that, he turned, his sword resting lazily on his shoulder as he made his way back toward the crowd, the wind carrying the faint hum of the machines into the endless night.