Chapter 329: Spend More Time With Her
Given the scene that Patriot had just caused, Steven naturally couldn't continue lingering around with Yelena.
It wasn't that he didn't want to—it was just that Yelena didn't have the same thick skin he did.
She hastily gathered up the pile of candies and bolted out the door, moving with the speed of a startled little rabbit.
Steven couldn't help but shake his head in lingering amusement.
They didn't even do anything indecent—so why's she running off in such a panic?
Still smiling, he stretched and walked out of the room himself.
The moment he opened the door, a tall figure clad in black armor was already standing there, as though waiting for him all along. With his massive frame backlit by the sun, the man's presence seemed even larger, looming like some demon lord descended upon the world.
Unfortunately for him, that oppressive aura had little effect on Steven.
This was Patriot—the one honored enough to be recorded in the war history against Kazimierz, and was a former Ursus general.
At least, when the list is only composed of humanoid beings that he had met so far, Patriot strength was easily among the top. Even those three Abyssal Hunters couldn't be said to hold a guaranteed advantage against him in combat.
To face the hostile glare of such a human-shaped monster… the pressure was obvious.
Patriot didn't speak right away. He simply looked down at Steven, his gaze heavy, until he finally realized there wasn't the slightest trace of fear in the boy's eyes. Only then did he rasp out Steven's name—his voice a little more hoarse than when Steven had first met him.
"Steve."
"Hm?"
Arms crossed, Steven looked up at the man who, outwardly, resembled something pulled straight from a nightmare. To him, though, this was nothing more than an ordinary father.
"Spend more time with Yelena. It's been… a long time since she's smiled this much."
For a moment, Steven froze.
He had half-expected the man to say something like "Stay away from my daughter," or "Name your price to leave her."
Instead… this?
When the meaning sank in, his grin only widened.
'So, the old man really does care about Yelena more than I thought. From the sound of it… does this mean he's already started to accept me as one of his own?'
Patriot had no idea what Steven was thinking.
If it had been anyone else, he would've tossed them out of the guerrilla fighter camp like a chick pinched between his fingers.
But this boy was different. He was not only Yelena's savior, but also the guerrillas' most important supplier at the moment.
Even so, that alone wouldn't have stayed his hand. Normally, he'd have still thrown the kid out.
The problem was… it was painfully obvious that Yelena had feelings for this boy.
Yeti Squadron had already mentioned it more than once: whenever Yelena wasn't on a mission, she would come to this little room and sit staring at the teleportation stone stuff. Patriot himself had told her before—that if she truly wanted to see that boy, she could just contact him directly.
But no matter what he said, she simply refused to disturb him.
If it was something his own daughter liked, then he really had no reason to interfere.
What's more, when it came to Steven, Patriot actually held a rare sense of approval. His strength was formidable—strong enough to face him head-on. And while his personality leaned a bit too casual, he was someone who always followed through on his words.
But the most crucial point was still—Yelena liked him.
Patriot had no idea what kind of charm potion this brat had fed his daughter, but Yelena had staked her entire heart on him.
Still, if he thought about it carefully, it wasn't so hard to understand. Since ancient times, the "hero saving the beauty" has always been the surest way to win a maiden's heart. And Steven had indeed saved his daughter—just the fact that he had dispelled the bitter, unapproachable cold that clung to her was enough to make Patriot feel deeply grateful.
Besides, he could see that Steven was genuinely treating Yelena with sincerity. He saw her only as an ordinary girl—not as a guerrilla fighter infected by Originium, and not as the exalted princess of the tundra.
One could say that Steven, a man who seemed to lack nothing and who excelled in every regard, was nearly impossible for any young girl to not fall in love with—if not for his eccentric personality.
And precisely because of this, Patriot still maintained a cautious attitude toward him.
If Steven's feelings were only directed toward Yelena, Patriot would have already arranged their marriage. But the problem lay in the fact that, besides Yelena, he also had some ambiguous ties with the other two girls in the group—which put Patriot in a very difficult position.
Still, such things ultimately belonged to the affairs of the young. As an elder, he couldn't interfere too much. All he could do was remind Steven to spend more time with Yelena—because the smile his daughter now wore was most certainly genuine.
"Other than that, we still need to discuss the matter of trading minerals for food. The guerrilla fighter is expanding, and its consumption is far greater than before."
Just as Steven nodded, ready to assure Patriot that he would never betray his expectations, the towering Wendigo suddenly grew solemn and brought up a far more serious issue.
The food they had traded for earlier with Steven was nearly depleted. And if they wanted to survive the winter in the snowy wastes, the remaining stores were nowhere near sufficient.
In the past, they would have had no choice but to grit their teeth and endure, forcing their way through the cold months, or rely on hunting wild beasts to get by. But now things were different—Steven was a merchant of great influence, and with him here, even the minerals that they had always tossed aside as useless could be put to good use.
"I remember leaving you with enough grain to last the entire winter, didn't I? How is it that it's already not enough?"
Steven frowned slightly.
This was not what he had expected. When things went against reason, it usually meant some accident had occurred.
"The guerrillas have enough, but as for the situation now… Forget it, it would be for you to see it for yourself."
Patriot shook his head, unwilling to explain further. He stepped aside, signaling Steven to go out and see with his own eyes.
And when Steven left the small cabin and looked out at the guerrilla encampment, he finally understood why Patriot had spoken to him that way.
The guerrilla fighter camp had expanded by an entire circle. Beyond the core warriors' tents, the outskirts were now packed with hastily erected shelters. Judging by the Originium crystals visible on the bodies of those coming and going, it wasn't hard to guess their identities.
"Tsk… are there really this many Infected on the snowfields?"
Steven squinted slightly.
The number of new arrivals nearly rivaled the size of the entire guerrilla fighter before. No wonder Patriot had said food supplies weren't enough—so many new mouths to feed meant there was no way they could continue rationing things the old way.
"Ursus destroyed several villages that the Infected had built for themselves. These are the ones who escaped."
Patriot let out a sigh.
Those villages had once been safe havens for Infected who refused to become fighters. Now that they were gone, rebuilding them was almost impossible.
That was the cruelty of Ursus' policy. Even these Infected, who had been driven to the snowy frontier and eked out a meager living in isolation, were given no chance to survive.
The guerrillas might be able to defeat the Infected patrol squad, but a razed village could never be restored. The question of how to resettle these people had become a nearly impossible problem.
Of course, the most urgent matter right now was still filling their stomachs. After all, Infected were people too—only by surviving the present could there be any talk of a future.
"Refugees, then. Guess nothing can be done."
Steven scratched his head.
He could understand Patriot's frustration. Still, one fortunate thing was that as long as they could provide enough minerals, his own side had no shortage of food to offer.
As for hiking up prices? That wasn't something he would ever do. He hated profiteers most of all—and he would never become the very thing he despised.
"Has Talulah already settled on the price? I'll talk to her later. For now, let's just distribute the food."
Casting a glance at the Infected, whose faces were pale and weak, and then at the guerrilla fighters who were handing out rations, Steven spoke to Patriot with a nod.
Naturally, Patriot had no objections. Knowing that Steven was a walking warehouse in his own right, he wasted no words and led him straight toward the granary.
"Have you thought about what to do with these people?" Steven asked as they walked. "The guerrillas alone can't support them. Even with enough minerals, this many who can't fight and only consume resources…"
Steven shook his head, leaving the rest unsaid.
His gaze shifted back to the tall Wendigo walking ahead.
He was curious—what kind of answer would come from him?
"So what? The guerrillas are still here. I am still here."
The Wendigo's voice was hoarse and rasping, but within that simple reply, Steven heard something more resolute than any oath.
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