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

"Let’s see what we’ve got here," Wendell muttered, slipping his hand into the bag he’d grabbed from Victor’s waist.

However, contrary to what Wendell himself had expected, his arm literally went almost all the way into the bag. Realizing this, he immediately pulled his arm back out, startled, and threw the bag to the ground.

"What the hell is this?" Wendell asked.

"A cursed bag. If you keep your hand in it for more than a few seconds, you’ll die," Victor replied.

"What? So I’m going to die?! You bastard...!"

"Calm down, brother. He’s just trying to trick you," Walrick said as he walked over to pick up the bottomless bag from the ground. "This is a magic bag that people say has no end, isn’t it? I’ve heard about it. It’s some kind of ancient item whose method of making has been lost to time."

Wendell breathed a sigh of relief as he listened to his brother’s explanation.

Victor didn’t react to Walrick’s answer and continued to look serious as if daring the boys to put their hands in the bag.

Walrick found this annoying and, not wanting to risk it, came up with the idea of turning the bag upside down and waiting for whatever was inside to fall out.

At first, nothing happened. A few seconds later, however, there was a commotion, and suddenly objects began to fall out of the bottomless bag.

First, some loose bronze coins clanked as they hit the wooden floor.

"Oh, there was money in there?" Victor asked in surprise.

Then there were small everyday items: a water canteen, some dull glowing magical stones, an old rusty compass, and a document.

Wendell picked up the document from the ground. It was a contract of ownership. There was a signature at the bottom.

"Victor... Shieldman? Is that your name? Did your parents lack creativity, or are you the black sheep of the family? I don’t see you using a shield."

Victor didn’t respond to the joke, and the items continued to fall from the bottomless bag until they piled up in a small heap at Walrick’s feet.

As the last bronze coin fell onto the pile, Wendell sighed in frustration.

"Is that it? It’s just garbage!" exclaimed Walrick, angrily kicking at the pile.

Suddenly, something else began to emerge from the bag. It was a sword, a blade of a deep black color, almost as if it absorbed the surrounding light. The sword slid smoothly out of the bag and fell to the ground with a heavy, metallic sound. This paralyzed Walrick and Wendell. This was clearly a magnificent weapon, with details on the hilt and a blade that seemed capable of cutting through the air itself.

Wendell’s eyes widened at the sight of the sword. "Brother, do you see this?" He lowered the sword he had used to threaten Victor and took a step toward the black blade.

Walrick threw the bottomless bag to the ground and bent down to pick up the sword. He immediately felt the balance of its weight and the cold texture of the metal in his hands.

"This... this is a work of art," he said, almost in a whisper. "Where did you get it, man?"

Victor kept his gaze on the twins, but now it wasn’t one of seriousness but of anger.

"Leave that sword there. It belonged to a great warrior of the past. It was said to be cursed, bringing misfortune to those unworthy of wielding it."

"Cursed?" Wendell laughed, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Do you really expect us to believe that after you tried to trick us with the bag?"

Victor shrugged, as well as he could under the restraints. "Believe what you want. But tell me, are you willing to risk it?"

The twins exchanged glances. They shrugged and exchanged glances, reflecting a mixture of doubt and ambition on their faces.

"Let’s take it to the boss. He’ll know what to do with it." Walrick said as he picked up the sword.

Wendell nodded in agreement, still looking at the sword with a covetous glint in his eyes. "Yeah, maybe this is our way out of this life and we’ll finally be rich!"

"I’ll tell you one last time: leave the sword exactly where it is. Otherwise..." Victor said.

"Or else what?" Walrick picked up the sword and pointed it at Aron, who was lying on the ground next to his feet. "Do you think you can do anything?"

Before Victor could answer, Wendell raised his right hand and punched Victor right in the face. The impact caused Victor’s head to jerk violently to the side, a sharp pain spreading through his jaw. He felt the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

"This is what you deserve! You think you can scare us if you continue with these stories of yours!" Wendell continued and threw another punch, this time to Victor’s stomach.

The air was expelled from Victor’s lungs and he doubled over in pain, but the restraints held him in place.

"Stop... this..." Aron managed to mutter, but the pain made it difficult to speak.

"We’ll stop when we want to!" Wendell shouted, joining his brother in the attack. He kicked Victor in the legs, almost knocking him over with the chair.

Victor held still as he was beaten. He knew that struggling would only make things worse for Aron.

The twins continued to beat Victor, taking turns punching and kicking him. Time seemed to drag on, every second an agony of pain.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Walrick took a step back, breathing heavily. "I think we’ve had enough," he said, wiping the blood from his wrist with a handkerchief he’d taken from Aron’s desk. "He won’t give us any more trouble."

Wendell, also panting, agreed. "Yeah. Let’s get out of here before someone shows up. And you two should thank us for not killing you!"

With that, the twins left, taking the black sword with them.

Victor, now alone, took a deep breath.

Aron’s whispering voice echoed through the office shortly after the twins left. "Are you... okay, Victor...?"

The hunter straightened, and the bruises on his face began to fade. The blood dripping from his mouth and nose flowed back in and finally, he lifted his head, and the bonds holding his arms together were torn apart with extreme ease by his strength.

Victor rose from the chair with a sigh, as if tired.

"Ah, it was hard to keep still while they were beating me. Anyway, I’m fine, it’s you who isn’t." Victor said and crouched down to finally check how serious Aron’s condition was.

"You... got... through... my... fault?"

"It was the best that could be done to keep them from hurting you anymore, buddy."

"You’re a... good man... Victor."