Free Web NovelChapter 141: Distraction?
Victor began to climb the sturdy rope with agility and silence.
His ascent was slow because he was big and heavy, and as Victor peered into the warehouse, he checked that the area was secure. When he realized that there were no guards in sight, only crates and more crates, he carefully opened the window and climbed in, helping Bel to follow.
The interior of the warehouse was vast and poorly lit, with aisles of piles of crates and barrels scattered everywhere.
Bel jumped in shortly after Victor, going faster because he was much lighter. But as the boy began to gather the rope and hook, Victor heard voices and the sound of approaching footsteps. He quickly motioned for Bel to stop and ducked behind a pile of crates.
There they remained motionless, listening intently to the conversation of the guards patrolling the nearby corridor.
"Have you heard about the black sword?" A deep voice asked.
"Of course," another, younger voice replied. "They say it’s a legendary weapon of unimaginable power. Garret did well to hide it here."
"Oh yes, of course... Did you ever wonder if we could steal it for ourselves?"
"Are you kidding? We’d get killed before we could even touch it."
"Heh, you’re right. It was just a joke."
"Ha... Don’t even say that as a joke. It’s that strange man who takes care of the carriage where the sword is, so we wouldn’t even have a chance to get close to it."
Victor and Bel heard the voices and the footsteps of the two men moving quickly away.
The two remained silent for a few seconds, waiting until they were sure that the men had indeed left.
Then Victor made a subtle gesture with his hand, indicating that it was time to move. Bel agreed, and they crouched even lower to slide between the piles of crates and barrels.
The air in this warehouse was heavy with the smell of wood and rusty iron. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a food warehouse, but one of those warehouses filled with manufacturing materials such as iron, copper, and wood, probably from Komotini, a city where mining and manufacturing were the mainstays.
When they reached what appeared to be the stairs leading to the lower level, Victor pulled Bel into a darker corner and whispered:
"Be even more vigilant now. Now, you need to be even more vigilant because downstairs will be heavily guarded and much busier."
Bel nodded twice as if to say: "Yes, yes!" freeweɓnovel.cøm
"Besides, the black sword is kept in one of the wagons. We have to find out which one."
"Do you think we can get the sword before the guards notice?"
"It depends on how the surveillance is. But..." He paused and looked at his pupil. "I don’t know. Just don’t make a sound."
Bel swallowed. Seeing how serious Victor was about all this made him realize how important this sword was to him. In a way, he already knew it was very important because he had heard Frugeon banging on the door when Luísa locked herself in her office and started fighting with Victor, but he had only a vague idea, which was different now.
"Understood. I’ll follow your instructions."
Victor thanked him, took a deep breath, and started down the stairs, taking each step carefully so as not to make any noise. Bel heeled him, trying to imitate Victor’s silent line.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Victor paused for a moment to take in his surroundings. The lower level was much brighter, with several lamps strategically placed to illuminate the corridors. The crates also seemed more organized, methodically stacked along the walls, and Victor noticed something that made him frown: men scattered about the floor, some dressed like ordinary guards, others with a more distinguished appearance. freёwebnoѵel.com
Victor quickly realized that Garret’s company hadn’t just mercenaries to protect the place; in addition to the company guards, there were also some hunters.
Hunters tended to have a unique appearance, such as light, practical armor, leather boots, utility belts, and various easily accessible weapons. They were men and women of various sizes and ages, some with scars, others with sharp eyes that seemed to pick up on every movement around them. Dealing with mercenaries was one thing, dealing with hunters was another.
One hunter in particular caught Victor’s eye. He was a tall man with dark hair in a ponytail and a scar that ran across his face, above his left eye. He wore reinforced leather armor, with metal plates strategically placed to protect vital points without sacrificing mobility. Sitting on a crate, he listened as a warehouse worker sang.
"What are you going to do after this?" the bushy-haired hunter asked her.
The woman, who was busy counting the crates, stopped for a moment and gave the hunter a disinterested look.
"I’m going home to take care of my children. What about you?"
The hunter laughed dryly. "The quiet life is not for me. I need the adrenaline, the danger. Without it, I feel dead inside. But you’re a mother, you wouldn’t understand."
The clerk became even more insulted, snorted, turned her face away, and walked away.
The hunter didn’t seem to understand what had happened. He clucked his tongue, folded his arms, and said:
"Do even sluts who are early mothers have any pride these days? Why did they decide to be proud in my time?"
Despite the way he spoke and acted, the man looked to be in his thirties and he certainly wasn’t just any hired gun; he had experience and a certain coolness that only came from years of living on the edge of the law. Victor knew this man could be a problem if things went wrong.
Victor then made a subtle gesture to Bel, indicating that they should move to the right, toward a less well-lit area of the warehouse.
Soon they finally spotted the wagons, three of them, all crammed together and positioned in front of the closed gate of the warehouse.
Victor stopped again, this time to observe the positioning of the guards.
From where he stood, he counted at least six armed men, each in a strategic position. They didn’t just cover the entrances, they also covered each other’s blind spots and those of the warehouse guards and mercenaries, of which there were about fifteen.
If a fight broke out right now, it would be twenty-one against two, which would be a big problem even for Victor because of the small space. One slip and a sword could pierce his heart.
Bel, sensing Victor’s hesitation, whispered: "How are we going to do that?"
"We have to distract the guards. If we can divert their attention, we can get to the wagon with the black sword."
"Distraction? That means we have to split up."
"Shh..." Victor put a hand over his mouth. "Keep it down."
"Sorry... But, Master, if we split up, we’ll be at an even greater disadvantage. There are too many of them."
Victor nodded. "They only have information about one of us." He said, pointing at himself.
Bel finally understood what Victor’s plan was.
"No, that would be suicide, Master."
"Now you’re making yourself look like your aunt." Victor said and without giving the boy time to recruit, he put a hand on Bel’s shoulder and said: "Look, you’ve only completed the first of a hundred stages of your training with me. You’re not a third of the man you want to be, and you’re not half the warrior I am. So trust me, find the sword when there’s a gap and run with it."
Bel had to swallow Victor’s words, for he could feel how sincere they were. Still, there was a mixture of fear and uncertainty in his eyes as he nodded, understanding his role in the situation.
Victor knew that the trust he was placing in the young man was a risk, but also an opportunity for Bel to grow.
"I will create the distraction," Victor whispered, his eyes fixed on the guards. "Once I have their attention, you move. Remember, your target is the black sword. You don’t have to chase every wagon, just feel in your heart which one it is and the sword will be there."
Bel nodded again, the tension visible in his shoulders as he mentally prepared himself for the task ahead.
Victor gave Bel’s shoulder a light squeeze before turning away and moving silently in the opposite direction.
The first thing Victor knew he needed to do to maximize the chances of his plan working was to reduce the number of enemies. So he silently approached the area where the guards were most concentrated. With a simple glance, he assessed the disposition of the enemies and looked for ways to isolate and neutralize some of them without drawing the attention of the others.
He spotted a guard moving away from the main group, probably to make a round. Seizing the opportunity, Victor slipped into the shadows, moving like a predator. When he was close enough, he struck quickly and efficiently, disarming and immobilizing the guard before he could raise a cry of alarm.
With one enemy down, Victor moved on to the next, taking out three more men between the mercenaries and the guards, but a woman, a hunter, and archer, noticed with her keen eyes that their numbers had suddenly dwindled.
She then raised her right hand to her eye and the tattoo on the back of her hand glowed. "Please, Eye of Phuthos, reveal all that cannot be seen." She whispered.
At that moment, her vision became so sharp that walls, boxes, iron, or flesh were no longer barriers to her eyes.
"There he is, an intruder!" She pointed, and Victor was struck by a red arrow that made him glow like a firefly, announcing his position to all.
"What a fucking broken ability." Victor said as he wrapped his right hand around Den to pull out the magic arrow.
