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

"What is it, Fletcher? Is that all you’ve got?" Victor teased, but without a trace of emotion.

Fletcher stood slowly, his eyes burning with anger. The cruel smile was still there, though more forced now. "You think you’ve beaten me, Victor? I still have an ace up my sleeve."

Then Fletcher pulled a small glass ball, about the size of a thumb, from his pocket. In one swift motion, he smashed the sphere against the floor. A blinding flash of light filled the warehouse courtyard, blinding Victor for a moment. He felt the heat spread through the room, and a supernatural wind began to circulate, kicking up dust and debris.

When Victor’s vision returned to normal, he saw that Fletcher was surrounded by a pulsating energy field, a yellow aura.

"That, my dear, is portable magic. Now you’ll see what I’m really capable of." Fletcher said, clenching his right fist.

Victor raised both fists, his guard up. "Magic won’t save you, Fletcher. I’ve faced much worse."

"I doubt that."

With more energy than usual, Fletcher lunged at Victor, but, this time, a shimmering aura surrounded his daggers.

Victor dodged the first blow, but felt the heat of the magic pass close by. Fletcher was faster, much faster, and Victor had to concentrate to keep up.

The fight became a deadly ballet as Victor blocked and dodged, while Fletcher attacked relentlessly. Every blow exchanged echoed throughout the room, the metallic sound of the dagger and the grunts of exertion filling the room.

Slowly concentrating in his Den, Victor placed his hand on the ground at the right moment, creating a shockwave that shook the ground to the point where the earth seemed to turn to liquid.

Fletcher was thrown backwards, his concentration momentarily broken.

Taking advantage of the opening, Victor lunged forward, unleashing a series of quick punches. His fists slammed into Fletcher’s body again and again, each impact carrying Den with it.

Fletcher tried to react, but Victor’s barrage was relentless. Finally, with one last devastating blow, Victor knocked Fletcher to the ground. Moments later, the magical aura around Fletcher began to flicker until it quickly and completely disappeared.

Panting, Victor watched as Fletcher lay on the ground, wheezing.

"You don’t have to do this, Victor Shieldman," Fletcher said, raising a hand. "We can settle this some other way."

"Now you want to negotiate? Your companions are already dead."

"Who cares about them? I didn’t even know them that long ago! We just formed a group of hunters who were kicked out of the Association!" Fletcher shouted as he tried to explain himself. "We have no other connection than that!"

Victor looked at Fletcher with contempt. "And I thought you couldn’t surprise me anymore."

With slow, deliberate steps, Victor approached Fletcher’s fallen dagger, still glowing slightly with a residual magical aura. The moonlight reflected off the blade, creating a spectral glow that seemed to heighten the tension in the air. He bent down and picked up the weapon carefully, feeling the cold weight of the metal in his hand.

"It’s a good dagger." Victor analyzed.

"What are you going to do?" Fletcher asked, the fear finally showing in his voice.

Victor raised the dagger. "I’m going to end this once and for all."

Fletcher tried to move, but the forced magic had taken its toll on his body and he froze. He looked at Victor with pleading eyes and said:

"Please... don’t do this. We can find a solution. I can help you. I can give you whatever you want."

Victor shook his head negatively. "There is nothing you can offer. You’ve made your choice. You’ve already sacrificed your companions."

Then, in one swift motion, Victor attacked with the dagger. Fletcher tried to defend himself by putting his hands in front of him, but it was in vain. The dagger didn’t cut his neck, but it pierced his chest, and the blade sank all the way to the hilt.

Fletcher let out a choked scream, his eyes wide in disbelief, but Victor turned the dagger to make sure it worked.

Victor felt the man’s body tremble one last time before it went completely still. He stood up with the dagger still in his hand. He looked down at Fletcher’s lifeless body with a mixture of emotions on his face. There was a certain relief, but also an inevitable sadness. He never liked killing, but sometimes he had no choice.

He wiped the dagger on Fletcher’s cloak before tossing it aside. The warehouse courtyard was silent now, the echo of the battle fading into the night air.

Victor began to enter the warehouse. The wooden gates were ajar, and a slight creak echoed as he pushed them open.

The interior of the warehouse was partially dark, lit by a few lamps scattered around the place. Inside, a dozen guards and employees were spread out near the entrance. They were tense, their hands close to their weapons, but none of them made a move to confront Victor as he passed them.

He deliberately ignored them, returning the gesture of non-aggression.

Soon he saw the wagons, partially surrounded by crates and barrels. There was an aura of expectation around the wagon, as if all present knew what was inside. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Victor walked up to it, and the guards watched him in silence, like statues of flesh and blood, unsure of what to do.

One of them, an older man, stepped forward, thinking that the bounty on Victor’s head was too great to ignore, but he stepped back when he remembered what he had seen Victor do to those hunters. He knew that any attempt to stop him would be futile.

As Victor approached the wagon in the center, he saw it crammed with treasure and gold coins.

Garret Darksoul probably intended to send it to a bank and store the sword so safely that not even Victor could get it back.

Among all the gold and valuables, there was a wooden box in the wagon. When Victor opened it, with the sound of wood followed by a soft snap, there was the Black Sword of Elban, wrapped in fine linen cloth.