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

The darkness that had taken over Garret Darksoul’s office seemed thicker than usual, as if it were sucking all the heat out of the room.

Garret was not a man easily frightened, but the feeling that Victor Shieldman was hunting him made him as uneasy as he had been decades ago.

With his hands still shaking, Garret opened one drawer in his mahogany desk and rummaged through the contents until he found a candle and a box of matches. His hands wouldn’t cooperate, and he had to try several times before he managed to light the match.

Finally, the flickering flame illuminated the candle and brought a modicum of comfort to Garret, who took a deep breath before standing up, holding the candle tightly. He opened the office door and peered into the dark, silent hallway. He had to find Thorne and plan a quick exit.

Victor wouldn’t come without a plan, and Garret knew his best chance was to escape before the confrontation became inevitable.

"Thorne!" Garret shouted, his voice echoing down the corridor.

The answer came not from Thorne, but from a distant metallic sound, like the clash of blades coming from the floors below.

Garret swallowed dryly, fear tightening in his chest. He took a few hesitant steps down the corridor, the dim candlelight casting grotesque shadows on the walls.

"Thorne!" he called again, this time more urgently.

Suddenly, a high-pitched scream broke the silence, followed by more sounds of combat.

Panic rose in him, and Garret began to run, his footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. But he was not a man made for running. Short and fat, Garret soon felt his lungs burning and his short legs failing him. He stopped, leaned against the wall, and tried to catch his breath.

Before he could react, Thorne came running down the corridor and collided violently with Garret.

Fortunately, Thorne had good reflexes, and grabbed Garret’s arm. "Mr. Darksoul, what are you doing out of your office?"

"He’s here, isn’t he, Thorne?" Garret managed to say between gasps. "Victor is certainly here. We need to go."

"All right, sir. Let’s go this way. There’s a carriage waiting in the alley. Come on, hurry!" Thorne began to lead Garret down the corridor, both of them moving as fast as Garret’s condition allowed.

It would be faster if Thorne took Garret on his lap, but neither of them seemed willing to do so, either out of pride or respect.

Darksoul Manor, normally a symbol of power and security, had become a problem because it was like a labyrinth. Every sound, every movement, seemed amplified in the darkness.

As they descended the stairs, they noticed that all sounds had strangely disappeared. As Garret hurried through the second floor of the mansion, his candle illuminated enough around him to reveal several fallen bodies of guards, some still writhing in pain. Nevertheless, Garret stepped over the fallen guards in his path without hesitation.

"Quickly, sir, this way!" Thorne pointed to a discreet door leading to a service corridor. They stepped through the door, but before they could go any further, the silhouette of someone stood out against the darkness.

Victor Shieldman stood like a sinister shadow. The blade in his hand was stained with blood, and a closed smile formed on his lips at the sight of Garret.

"Garret Darksoul," he said in a venomous tone. "Do you remember what I warned you about the last time we had trouble? If not, I’ll remember it for you: ’Become a better person and help others, or I’ll come after you. Did you think I was joking?"

Garret felt the ground shake beneath his feet.

Just a few weeks ago Garret had barely thought about Victor, and more than ten years ago he had stopped having nightmares about him, but the fear and the nightmares returned three weeks ago when he read Victor’s name in the newspaper and discovered that he was working with the Selvarum again.

"Victor," he began, trying to keep his composure. "We can talk. We can negotiate."

Victor stepped forward, his presence dominating the narrow corridor. "You know I’m not here to negotiate, Garret. I’m here to settle."

Thorne, in an act of desperation, tried to get between Garret and Victor. "Who do you think you are to talk to me like that..."

Victor didn’t even blink before he punched Thorne, who dropped to the ground in a pool of blood as Garret watched in horror.

"Now, Garret," Victor said, his eyes fixed on the merchant. "We’re going to do this one way or the other. Your choice."

Trembling uncontrollably, Garret took a step back. He knew there was no escape. This was the end he had always feared, the end brought about by his own ambitions and ruthless actions.

"You... you don’t have to do this," he stammered, his words barely audible. "I can pay you. I can give you anything you want. The sword! I can tell you where the sword is!"

Victor approached slowly, his presence overwhelming. "No, I won’t trust you. Do you really think I’d believe that you’re willing to hand over the sword so easily? You know its potential, otherwise the sword would have been returned to me by now."

Garret felt his world darken as Victor approached.

"Just be thankful that you can die for me..." Victor said.

The last thing Garret saw was the icy glint of Victor’s blade, a reflection of his own doom.

Garret awoke with a start, his breathing erratic and his body drenched in cold sweat. He was leaning over the desk in his office and the light was on. It had all been a bad dream.

Still panting, Garret looked out the window behind his desk and saw the city of Klento. Selvarum Manor was on top of a hill and just outside of Klento, an estate so private and secure that it would make even the Selvarums jealous.

"Okay... It’s okay... It was all just a stupid dream." Garret told himself, trying to calm down. "However, I really hope that these mercenaries I hired will be enough to finish off Victor once and for all and protect the sword. They used to be high-ranking hunters before they became criminals, so they should be able to do it."