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

"Come on, take off the mask quickly," the man repeated with a suspicious tone.

With calculated movements, Victor raised his hands to the mask that covered his face. He pulled at the loop that held it in place and removed it, revealing his aged and tired features. The wrinkles around his eyes and the gray beard added to the image of a man haggard with age.

The intruder narrowed his eyes and studied Victor’s face. He seemed to relax a little, not recognizing the man before him.

"Ah, just an old man..." he murmured, still holding his sword. "Right, now go and join the others. But don’t think I’ll let you out of my sight."

Victor nodded slowly, keeping his hands in sight of the intruder.

"I just wanted to come out for a breather," Victor said, his voice trembling but full of sincerity. "All this violence... it’s too much for an old man like me."

The intruder snorted, but seemed less interested in Victor now that he saw him as less of a threat. "Shut up and go if you don’t want any trouble."

Victor nodded again and began to move slowly toward the group of hostages, but his eyes never stopped scanning his surroundings. He noticed that Luísa was being searched and some of her belongings were being taken, such as jewelry and her purse. Their eyes met briefly and Victor put his mask back on.

He began to walk toward the other hostages, keeping his gaze low and his shoulders slumped, giving the impression of submission. But his every move was prepared for the right moment. When he was only a few meters away from the center of the hall where the guests were gathered, Victor began to try to identify who was capable of fighting.

The room they were in was large and well lit, with crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, reflecting the light in dancing patterns on the walls. The tables, once decorated with linen tablecloths and flower arrangements, were often overturned or broken, the result of the turmoil caused by the invasion. The guests, now hostages, were gathered in the center of the room, many with expressions of fear and despair. Some wept silently, while others just stared into space, trying to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

To Victor’s right, a stocky man with short hair and a stern expression wore a dark suit. His hands were tied behind his back with a rope, but he maintained an upright posture and watchful eyes, clearly someone used to high-pressure situations.

"This must be an ex-military man," Victor thought, mentally cataloging his skills.

Next to him, a young, athletic-looking woman knelt on the ground. Her blue hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and her blue eyes scanned the room with a calculating gaze. She was wearing an elegant dress, but her well defined muscles spoke of rigorous physical training. Victor noticed that she kept her head down, but her eyes kept moving, analyzing each intruder.

"Probably a hunter," he concluded.

Further on, Victor saw a middle-aged man with a thin beard and long hair. He wore simple clothes, but there was something about his posture that suggested authority.

"Perhaps a community leader or a local politician, but certainly not a nobleman," Victor surmised. He tried to calm the people around him, whispering words of comfort and hope.

As he watched, Victor noticed that the invaders were not as organized as they could have been. Many seemed nervous, glancing frequently at their leader, the man on the stage. He was pacing back and forth, shouting orders, trying to keep control of the situation. They were amateurs, yet they managed to break into such a secure place. What did they really want? Who were they?

Victor continued to walk slowly, his eyes alert for any opportunity. He knew he had to act quickly, but he also knew that one rash move could put everyone in danger. He assessed the possibilities, trying to formulate a plan that could turn the situation in his favor.

Victor knew he needed to gather those who could fight a surprise uprising. He approached the burly man, whispering softly so as not to attract attention.

"Do you have combat training?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the ground so as not to arouse suspicion.

The man looked at Victor for a moment, surprised, but then nodded discreetly. "I was in the military," he whispered back. "And you?"

"Hunter." Victor replied, keeping his voice low. "We need a plan."

The burly man looked around, assessing the situation. "Too many innocents. The best we can do is not react, find out what they want and accept the terms."

"What a coward for a military man... Victor thought, but said: "You may not want to fight, but I will not leave these innocents at the mercy of these invaders."

The burly man let out a resigned sigh, but didn’t answer. Victor continued to move slowly until he approached the athletic woman. His blue eyes shone with quiet determination as he whispered:

"We need a plan to disarm them. Are you with me?"

She looked up, her eyes meeting Victor’s.

"I’m in," she replied, almost inaudibly. "My name is Alina. And yours?"

"Victor," he replied with a discreet nod. "I’ll try to mobilize some more people. Watch for my signals."

As Victor walked away, he noticed that the invaders were still acting disorganized. Even though they said they weren’t here for the money, they continued to take everyone’s belongings, especially their jewelry. The tension between them was palpable, especially as the leader continued to shout orders. Victor approached a few more hostages, whispering instructions and encouraging them to stay calm. He knew he needed every advantage possible to turn the tide.

Returning to the center of the hall, Victor rejoined the burly man and Alina. "I’ve managed to mobilize a few people," he said quietly. "Now we need a concrete plan."

Alina looked around and analyzed the situation. "They have more weapons and we don’t," she said. "But they’re nervous. If we can disarm some of them quickly, we can change the situation."

Victor nodded. "We need to find the weak points. That man on the stage seems to be the leader. If we can neutralize him, the others could fall apart."

The burly man who identified himself as Marco intervened. "We must be quick and coordinated. We need to strike at several points at the same time to create confusion."

Victor looked at Alina and Marco, determination written all over his face. "Let’s do it. When I give the signal, we’ll attack. Alina, you take care of the two guards near the door. Marco, you and I will take care of the ones closest to us. We have to get their swords."

The plan was set. Victor moved away again, discreetly, passing on the instructions to the other hostages he had mobilized. Every move was calculated, every step a preparation for the decisive moment.

Finally, Victor gave the signal. Moving with surprising speed for a man his age, he reached one of the guards on his back and disarmed him with a precise blow. The sound of the body falling to the ground drew the attention of the other intruders, but it was too late. Alina had already neutralized the guards near the door, taking their weapons and handing one to one of the hostages she had mobilized.

Marco, with his impressive strength, disarmed another intruder and threw him against an overturned table. Chaos broke out in the hall.

The invaders, caught off guard, tried to fight back. But their disorganization and nervousness worked against them. The hall was filled with shouts and sounds of combat, the clash of weapons echoing off the walls. The tension was palpable, adrenaline coursing through the veins of everyone involved.

Then, in the midst of the melee, a distinct sound cut through the air - a deep, almost resigned sigh. The man on stage, the leader of the invaders, slowly extended his hand. His long, slender fingers drew an arc in the air, as if tracing invisible lines. A supernatural glow emanated from his hand, growing in intensity until a blinding light filled the hall.

In an instant, everything stopped.

Movements ceased, sounds disappeared. Time seemed to freeze. Victor was in the middle of an attack, his sword only inches from an opponent.

Alina ducked, about to throw a dagger. Marco had a fist raised, ready to strike down another intruder. All were paralyzed, frozen in a macabre image of interrupted action.

The leader of the invaders descended from the stage, moving with unnerving calm. He was tall and thin, with a presence that exuded authority. His eyes were an icy blue, reflecting ancient wisdom and cold cruelty. He walked among the frozen fighters, passing them as if they were mere obstacles.

He approached Victor, his footsteps echoing softly in the silent hall. The tension seemed to increase with each step. He stopped in front of Victor and watched him with an analytical gaze. There was a gleam of curiosity in his eyes, mixed with a cold condescension.

"Interesting, so it’s you." he said as he looked at Victor closely, his voice echoing in the silence. "Did you really think you could get in my way with such a simple plan? That was brave, you just didn’t expect me to be blessed, did you?"