I'm a Immortal Tavernkeeper, But My S-Rank Daughter Doesn't Know That!

Sable was extremely intimidated by Victor Shieldman’s aura at that moment, as she looked him in the eye and saw a clear sign of anger on the old man’s face. Everything seemed to have changed from one moment to the next.

’A few seconds ago, he didn’t even look like a threat anymore, so was he pretending all this time?’

Sable’s mind had become a whirlwind of questions, but she took a deep breath, controlled her own heartbeat, and brandished her swords to attack him as quickly as she could. After all, it wouldn’t matter if Victor had some bizarre resistance to paralyzing poison if his head was cut off by her swords.

Victor didn’t back down either. Instead, he moved with surprising agility for someone of his age and, with a move that Sable’s eyes couldn’t even follow, he destroyed not only the assassin’s attack posture, but also her swords. As if struck by thunder, her swords cracked in dozens of places the instant Victor appeared in front of her.

Startled, Sable jumped backward and heard her blades shatter. She looked at the swords and both practically crumbled in her hands, as if instead of steel they were made of glass, leaving only the pommels of the two swords and part of the blade near the handle.

Silence hung in the dark room. Sable stared incredulously at her shattered swords, a mixture of shock and anger etched across her face. She fell to her knees and when heavy footsteps approached her, her eyes slowly rose to meet those of Victor Shieldman.

The old white-haired man watched Sable’s reaction with satisfaction and disdain. He raised his sword, the blade gleaming faintly in the gloomy light of the room. It was a sword that at first glance looked weathered, but it exuded an aura of power that made it as fearsome as the gaze of its bearer.

"You underestimated not only me, but the strength that a true purpose can grant someone," said Victor, his voice echoing in the almost empty space. "Your blades were just tools, while this sword is an extension of my will."

Sable gritted her teeth, her fists clenched in frustration. "What are you, anyway?" She questioned with narrowed eyes as she appraised the man standing beside her.

Victor let out a hoarse laugh. "Hahaha! I’m someone who has learned never to underestimate his opponent, and never to rely entirely on appearances. But you, Sable, are just a puppet in the hands of others, dancing as the strings are pulled. The nobles don’t care about you and will surely send another assassin after they learn that you haven’t fulfilled your mission."

She looked away. "Don’t tell me the obvious, old man. Any professional assassin knows that and is ready to accept it. Now get on with it, do what you have to do." Sable turned her neck, leaving it wide open for a blow.

Victor didn’t even hesitate and, with one clear cut, he tore the assassin’s head off. The thud of her falling body created a subtle silence, which a few seconds later was partially interrupted by the creak of a door at the back of the hall opening. This was the basement door, and Robe, the thief, cautiously stepped out of it. When he saw that it was Victor who was standing in the middle of the dark tavern, he heaved a sigh of relief.

"Phewww!" He wiped some sweat from his forehead, approached, and then saw the decapitated corpse of the assassin. "Burghhl! Man, why didn’t you... warn me? Brughhl!" Robe almost vomited at the sight of the corpse.

Victor Shieldman remained impassive in front of Sable’s decapitated corpse, as if death was a routine with which he was quite familiar. He wiped the blade of his sword on the rag he called his clothes, removing the assassin’s blood that was now spreading across the tavern floor.

Robe, his stomach churning from the metallic smell of blood and the sight, scratched his head. He was still processing what had happened in the last few minutes.

Victor put his sword back in its sheath and moved towards the bar of the abandoned tavern. Robe decided to approach, not because he felt comfortable with Victor, but because he didn’t want to be near the corpse.

The young thief swallowed, deciding to be the spark to end the silence once again. "Erh, so... does this happen to you often?" He pointed at Sable’s corpse, trying to keep his voice steady and even casual.

Victor went round the counter without saying a word and started looking for something forgotten there that still had some alcohol in it. He found a half-empty bottle of whisky under the counter. His calloused fingers turned the cap as he poured some of the amber liquid into a dirty glass. The strong odor of alcohol filled the air, mixing with the smell of blood and death.

"So-so. I’m a Hunter though, I’m used to being a bit cold-blooded. I’m sorry." Victor replied good-naturedly.

The thief frowned, puzzled by the enigmatic answer. He certainly couldn’t read Victor, because he couldn’t tell if the old man was happy about what he’d done, sad or even neutral. "But why did a professional assassin come here? And why did she want to kill me?"

Victor took a sip of his whisky before answering. "She didn’t come to kill you, at least you weren’t her main objective. The one she was really paid to kill was my daughter, Wanda. When you started investigating Duke Olyno, you stepped into a very poisonous hornet’s nest."

Victor Shieldman stared into the bottom of his whisky glass for a moment, lost in the dark memories of the first time he had lived through that grueling day.

"Duke Olyno..." murmured Robe with a hand on his chin, thoughtful.

"Actually, the big problem isn’t him, but his counselor. Olyno is apparently just a boy being manipulated, but this information still needs to be confirmed."

"You mean Counsellor Steegar? It’s not possible, they say he’s very old and that’s why Olyno doesn’t listen to him."

"Well, as I said, this information still needs to be confirmed. I can’t tell if it’s all true or not. I can’t completely trust the words of a professional assassin sent to murder my daughter." Victor continued, pouring some more whisky from the old bottle.

"And what are we going to do now?" Robe stopped pacing impatiently back and forth and asked.

The glass froze near Victor’s mouth, who said before continuing to drink:

"I don’t know about you, but I intend to rest a bit now while I drink this in peace."

Victor then raised his glass as if in a toast and turned it completely round in his mouth.

"All right, all right, I just have one last question. How did you know about the assassin? I heard everything very muffled as I ran down to the basement, but even she seemed surprised that you were here." Robe questioned.

For the first time, Victor Shieldman didn’t know what to say and so silence completely dominated the room. Robe continued to stare at Victor, waiting for an answer.

Victor could lie, saying that an informant had given him the information such as the time and place where Sable would be, but Robe could ask why Victor hadn’t told Wanda directly. Other explanations could be included to try and substantiate this big lie, but it would only complicate things further. So the old hunter decided to be honest and if Robe didn’t believe him, it didn’t matter.

"I don’t know exactly what I saw, but I think I had a dream..."

"A dream?" Robe looked at Victor as if he’d said something absurd.

"No, it wasn’t a dream, to tell you the truth. I really did go back in time."

At that moment, everything fell silent, even Victor’s heart. He raised his head to see Robe’s reaction and, surprisingly, instead of the tavern, his eyes found complete emptiness. The lobby, Sable’s corpse, the tables are broken during the fight, and even Robe, everything was overlaid by the sight of a completely dark world, with only a mist covering everything.

From Robe’s perspective, Victor stopped talking in the middle of his answer. Then Robe saw Victor raise his head with wide eyes, and the glass the old man was holding slipped from his trembling fingers and crashed to the floor, breaking into fragments. With his right hand, Victor clutched the left side of his chest, as if a sharp, overwhelming pain was shooting through him.

Victor still seemed to be trying to articulate words while Robe watched in shock, unable to move, but the pain intensified to the point of cutting off his breathing and making words sound like mumbles.

Finally, Victor fell to his knees and was held up by Robe before he fell completely alone to the ground.

"White Bear?! Shit, he must be having a heart attack, what do I do?!" Desperation overtook Robe when he finally managed to act.

However, what was happening to Victor wasn’t a simple heart attack, but a warning, and Victor began to realize this when, amidst the darkness of the world he had been pulled into, he spotted a silhouette in the mist.