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

Victor Shieldman’s options were limited at this point. If he stayed inside the protective circle created by himself, he would be protected for a while from the undead that Gravisk had attracted, because only he was allowed to cross this barrier.

However, while leaving the circle meant facing a horde of monsters in an uncertain and potentially deadly battle, staying inside it meant sharing a limited space with a demon and dozens, perhaps hundreds, of obsessing spirits.

Victor’s heart was pounding as he quickly analyzed his chances.

Staying in the circle would keep him alive, but for how long? The shadows were advancing slowly, but in increasing numbers.

All this analysis lasted only a few seconds, and finally Victor made his decision.

Backing away a few steps slowly so as not to let any obsessing spirits touch him, Victor left the magic circle that held Gravisk imprisoned.

"Oh, so you’re really going to run away after you free me! Don’t worry, human! The first thing I’m going to do when this barrier falls is hunt you down!" Gravisk teased him.

Victor didn’t even turn back to look at the demon and followed the same path that had led him to the altar chamber.

The air in the rest of the cavern was already charged with the smell of death and decay as the undead advanced, and to Victor’s misfortune they were closer than he had imagined.

At the first bend, when the empty eyes of the first zombie saw Victor, it was as if the others had also seen him at the same time and they advanced simultaneously like predators drawn to his blood. Their voraciousness was at its peak, because many of the zombies and skeletoids seemed to have risen from their graves only a short time ago.

The undead accumulated in a narrow section of the cave, all desperate to reach Victor’s skin. They swarmed around and hit each other, trying to get to him.

Victor clenched the handle of the black sword in his hand with determination. His muscles were a little tired because he hadn’t had enough time to recover from the intense battles in Kozáni, but Victor’s mind was ready for combat.

The monsters’ grunts echoed through the cave, creating a frightening cacophony that increased the tension in the air.

Victor took a deep breath to block out his fear and concentrated on his combat technique.

When the first undead that managed to get out of the crowd advanced, Victor saw how clumsy this zombie’s movements were, which contrasted greatly with Victor’s agility. He dodged the monster’s attempt to grab him and retaliated with a sharp blow, cutting the creature in half. However, he quickly realized that this was only the beginning of a desperate struggle.

One by one, the undead began to make their way through the narrow passage and the more of them there were, the less crowded this part of the cave became, leaving more gaps for others to pass through. There were so many of them and they seemed inexhaustible, their strength and endurance surpassing anything Victor expected.

Victor fought ferociously, slashing and dodging as many of the monsters’ attacks as he could, but with every casualty he caused, more appeared to replace them.

The numerical disadvantage was overwhelming, and Victor soon found himself pushed back.

His body was covered in sweat and blood, his muscles burning with constant effort.

Every little scratch he received was like a brutal reminder of the fragility of his ageing body. Even so, the determination in his eyes didn’t waver, but the reality of the situation began to weigh on him.

His mind was spinning in search of a solution, a strategy that could turn the game in his favor.

He still had a chance of getting out of this situation alive and, with all the information he had obtained, he could perhaps come up with a plan, but that seemed an unlikely future at the moment.

Victor didn’t want to die, not like this. The pain of dying was so great that he always thought he wouldn’t be able to bear it, that he wouldn’t have it again.

The undead were relentless, their thirst for fresh flesh driving them on relentlessly.

Victor found himself surrounded, his breath becoming shorter and shorter as exhaustion set in.

In a moment of desperation, Victor could almost see how the demon would react to his death with a sadistic smile, as if it were enjoying the spectacle of the unequal fight.

A spark of anger burned in Victor’s chest and, with a cry of determination, he redoubled his efforts, fighting even harder to stay alive.

Every stroke of his sword was now charged with the strength of his will to survive. He refused to die again, dying was always so humiliating, so painful.

However, even the fiercest person and the sharpest sword were no match for the relentless horde of undead.

Victor fought until his last breath, his mind clear and focused even as his body weakened. He faced death head on.

When he finally fell, surrounded by the lifeless bodies of the undead, Victor felt no regrets. He fought to the end. His flesh began to tear, and a skeletoid drove a sword through his belly, while an archer’s zombie shot an arrow into his eye.

Despite the intense pain, his mind calmed down, because at least this time Wanda wasn’t there to watch him die.

Then Victor was slowly enveloped in a deep, icy darkness. After so much pain, the sensation of being alive disappeared, leaving only a floating, disconnected feeling.

Gradually, as if emerging from a deep sleep, he began to perceive distant sounds in the darkness and a feeling of comfort around his body.

The sounds became clearer and more recognizable: soft voices, the slamming of doors, the comforting sound of distant footsteps.

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the soft light of a room with wooden walls. He was lying on a soft bed, covered in clean, warm sheets.

The sunlight coming through the room’s small window made him blink a few times until he took in his surroundings.

Around him, dark wood furniture and decorative details revealed a comfortable room.

Victor tried to move, but a tremor of pain ran through his body, reminding him of the injuries he had suffered. His chest ached where the skeleton’s sword had gone through, but it hadn’t hurt, and the memory of the arrow that had hit his left eye made him instinctively touch the spot. His eye was there, right where it should have been.

What he was feeling was phantom pain, like phantom limb syndrome. The pain was there, but it didn’t exist, like a harmful placebo effect for Victor.

With effort, Victor managed to sit up in bed, leaning on the soft pillow. He looked around and recognized the simple room in the inn where he had stayed the night before.

At first, he thought it was all just a vivid nightmare, but the pain and the sense of reality were too intense to ignore. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

This time was different from the other times he had returned, very different. He seemed anesthetized, a little sluggish perhaps?

Victor then went to the bathroom in his room, looked at his reflection in the mirror and inevitably saw that something had changed.

"What... what happened?" he mumbled to himself, trying to put the pieces of his memory together to understand why on earth his beard was smaller and also less white.

What’s more, Victor noticed that several of the wrinkles on his face had simply disappeared, as if he had rejuvenated himself. Was that... good?