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

The man with the club stepped back and his voice died in his throat as he saw Victor’s sword go through Ed’s chest.

The guard’s body fell heavily to the ground, the keys to the warehouse gates still in his hand, while a trail of blood marked the path where he collapsed.

Victor, with a cold, implacable expression on his face, removed the sword from Ed’s body, letting the blood drip down the sharp blade. With the sword still dripping, he finally turned his attention to the renegade hunter in front of him. His piercing eyes met those of the man who was now holding his club with both hands, as if it could protect him from the imposing figure in front of him. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

The hunter took a step back. "W-who are you?" he stammered, trying to sound confident, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

Victor had no reason not to answer. "I’m Victor Shieldman," he said and put a hand on one of the doors, ready to open it a little wider.

The hunter in front of him hesitated as he listened, the club shaking badly in his hands from fright.

The various other guards around the warehouse, attracted by the noise, began to approach, slowly forming a semicircle behind the man with the club, a barrier to prevent Victor from getting deep into the warehouse if he tried.

Victor felt their eyes on him, could almost hear their thoughts of fear, purpose and doubt.

"Either you fight," Victor said to the man with the club, raising his sword in a threatening gesture, "or you run to make way for the others. The choice is yours."

At that moment, the man with the club realized how useless he was. He gripped the handle of the club tighter to stop it from shaking, and shouted as he charged:

"I will be the one to kill you, intruder!"

Victor watched the man with the club advance, but just like the first time, this man’s movements were uncoordinated and hasty. If he used a sword, it would probably be much more dangerous than a club that just whistled through the air.

Victor dodged with a simple, agile sideways movement, letting the club pass straight through.

The man tried a second attack, but Victor was already one step ahead. He turned his body and brought his sword down in a perfect arc. The blade found the unprotected shoulder of the club-bearer and plunged deep, cutting through muscle and bone until it struck the heart. The sound of the blow was drowned out by the man’s choked scream as he fell to his knees before collapsing completely to the ground, his club rolling inertly a few inches away.

Victor took a deep breath. There was no pleasure in the death he was causing, only a cold need. He pulled the sword from his body, the blood dripping in a red thread onto the stone floor.

Victor’s eyes, cold as the steel of his blade, turned to the guards in the first line beyond the open gate.

The guards hesitated, but they were paid to protect this place, so they couldn’t run.

The semicircle slowly closed, but Victor remained motionless near the gate.

One of the guards, braver or perhaps more foolish than the others, stepped forward and raised his sword. "He’s alone," he shouted, trying to encourage his companions. "We can take him down if we attack together!"

Victor smiled a cold, humorless smile. "You’re welcome to try," he muttered.

The white-haired hunter could see the fear in the men’s eyes, but also the determination. There were many of them, and he was only one.

The first charge came fast and furious. The guard lunged forward with a scream, swinging his sword in a horizontal slash. Victor easily blocked the attack with the side of his sword, and before the man could retreat, Victor struck back. His sword sliced through the air in an instant and found the flesh of his opponent’s neck.

The other guards advanced almost simultaneously, forcing Victor to retreat. He blocked and parried attacks from all sides. Despite his skill, the growing number of enemies began to put pressure on him, and he was forced to retreat further into the warehouse’s outer courtyard.

In the open space of the courtyard, there was more freedom of movement, but also less cover. Victor knew there was a problem with that, and it soon appeared. Suddenly, from the top of the warehouse, an arrow flew towards Victor.

The arrow cut through the air with a deadly whistle, forcing Victor to instinctively dodge. His sword struck the arrow at the last moment, deflecting it from its deadly path.

The impact reverberated through his arm, but he stood firm, his eyes scanning the small battlefield. There, on the roof, was the archer from the hunters’ party. Her black hair shone in the moonlight, and she held another arrow ready to fire.

"So you, the most annoying one, decided to show up right at the beginning," Victor muttered to himself, a wry smile curling his lips.

The guards around him hesitated, using the archer’s momentary distraction to rethink their strategies. But the archer wasted no time. She reached into her quiver, tied another arrow to the bowstring and fired. This time the arrow glowed with a bluish light.

Victor jumped to the side, but the arrow exploded on the ground beside him, sending shards of ice ricocheting off his armor and cutting his skin. He clenched his teeth against the pain, his eyes never leaving the archer.

"Coward," one of the guards shouted, taking advantage of Victor’s distraction to advance. He brandished a short sword, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and determination.

Victor spun on his heels, his sword describing a gentle arc. The guard tried to block, but the force of Victor’s blow was overwhelming. Victor’s sword split the guard’s blade in half and continued its path until it dug deep into his opponent’s shoulder, who screamed before falling to his knees.

Victor raised his bloodied sword, his gaze cold as death.

"Who’s next?" he challenged.