Drake continued to store all the items that his father had sent over for him. It was four times more than the last time. He was happy about that; the more supplies they had, the better. They could stay longer without relying on the dimension's resources.
They worked for over an hour, storing and organizing the items in his book so things would be easy to find or easy to get to if they only needed one or two items at a time. If they were stuck in a small space, trying to take out a pallet wouldn't work. They needed to get to things easily.
As Drake placed his last pallet into his book, his gut twisted. His hand flew up, grasping his abdomen as he groaned in pain. "Shit, something's wrong!" he choked out, trying to take a breath. It eased slowly, allowing him to stand upright and breathe normally. However, his gut ached, warning him that something was wrong.
