Chapter 21 - Bounty on my head

You must be kidding me. When I heard the guy's words, I knew being here was very dangerous.

"Even finding any information about the relative could reward you with a good amount," the guy said, showing his companion a "Wanted" poster in the purest One Piece style.

I got up from my seat, adjusting my hood better to cover most of my face. I tried to be as casual as possible when leaving the bar, but just as I was about to grab the door handle, it swung open, making me fall to the ground and revealing my white hair.

I found myself on the ground, with the gaze of everyone present fixed on me. I cursed my bad luck silently as I hurried to get up, trying to maintain composure despite the commotion my fall had caused.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, trying to apologize as I stood up and readjusted my hood to cover my face again. The atmosphere of the place had become tense, and I could feel the suspicious looks on me as I struggled to appear as innocent as possible.

However, the damage was already done. The man who stood like a mountain of muscles and had opened the door blocked my way before I could go around him and escape from the bar. His imposing presence blocked my exit, and the tension was palpable in the air, thick as fog on a dark night.

"Wait a minute, I think I've seen you somewhere," he said, his words resonating with a spark of recognition in his eyes as his hand intervened between him and my way out.

"Eh? I'm sure you're mistaken, sir," I quickly replied, trying to slip to the side, but his firm grip persisted, preventing me from moving forward.

"Hey! It's the guy from the bounty!" shouted the man with the "Wanted" poster, his thunderous voice resonating in the bar's bustle, pointing at me insistently as if I were the very object of desire.

The tension in the air intensified as everyone in the bar turned towards me, their murmurs filling the room. I tried to stay calm as I felt the accusing gaze of every person around me.

"I'm sorry, but there must be some misunderstanding," I tried to explain, looking for a way out as I felt the pressure of the crowd closing in around me.

The man from the poster advanced towards me with determination, his expression as determined as that of a hunter who has found his prey, and his companion was not far behind, flanking him with the same determination.

I stepped back, feeling the cold wall against my back as more and more people rose from their seats, forming an ominous circle around me. Even the bartender, whose neutrality had been my last hope, joined in the chorus of accusations.

"It's true, now I remember you," said the mountain of muscles, pulling something out of his pocket and showing it. "This is you," he added, displaying a "Wanted" poster with a typical villainous expression.

My heart sank as I saw my own image printed on the wanted poster. The situation had gone from bad to worse in a matter of seconds.

Before I could do anything, the man from the first poster intervened with a determined voice. "Hey! I saw him first!" he exclaimed, with his companion at his side, pointing at me insistently.

Taking advantage of those seconds of distraction, I slid my left hand under my cloak, grabbing the dagger I always keep hidden. Once I had it between my fingers, my tense expression shifted to a more relaxed but calculating one. The runes of Gandálfr activated, granting me mental clarity and combat ability that I've learned to appreciate in situations like this.

"Don't even think about it, I'm going to claim the reward for his head!" said the muscular guy, drawing a sword from his belt, while gesturing to the rest as a warning.

"Gentlemen... Gentlemen... we're not being very reasonable here," spoke the bartender, placing himself between the two arguing men. "How about this? The first one to catch him gets to keep the reward!" he shouted, pulling a machete from his back in an attempt to calm the situation.

But amidst the confusion, someone from the crowd shouted, pointing to the spot where I had been cornered. "Hey, where did he go?"

"There he is," yelled the bartender, pointing towards the door just seconds before I could grab the handle. Seizing the opportunity, I headed for the exit. In an attempt to claim the reward, the bartender hurled the machete in my direction.

The weapon spun through the air as I continued to face away. However, before the machete could reach me, I sidestepped it, allowing it to become lodged in the wooden door.

Seeing that the attack was ineffective, they all surged towards me, determined to capture me and claim the reward.

I spun on my heels, the dagger now firmly in my hand reflecting in the dim light of the lantern. A smirk appeared on my face as the runes of Gandálfr faintly glowed. With clarity of mind and refinement in my skills, I awaited the imminent onslaught.

The men shouted war cries mixed with the greed of those anticipating an immediate victory. The first to arrive was a short, burly man wielding a club with prominent knots. I needed no more than a swift sidestep to dodge the blow, and taking advantage of the man's momentum, I pushed his back so he crashed into a nearby table.

The second attacker, more cautious, attempted a direct thrust with a wooden spear. I leaned back in an almost supernatural display of flexibility, feeling the displaced air brush past me, then swiftly propelled myself forward. The dagger in my hand danced in a precise arc, cutting the spear in half, leaving the opponent with a useless stick and a bewildered expression.

From my left, a third man wielding a chain approached, swinging it with savage determination. I stepped back and with surgical precision, I cut one of the links of the chain with the dagger and with a tug, snatched the weapon from its owner's hands, who watched in horror as his weapon turned into a harmless metal snake.

Soon the tavern had become a dance of skill and violence. Wood splintered, drinks spilled, and some unfortunate soul found their face against the floor every passing second, incapacitated by brief but deep cuts I sketched with mastery.

Then, the muscular man came into play. He wielded his sword with surprising agility for his size, each strike aiming to be decisive, each thrust projecting the intent to end it all.

I avoided a low sweep by sliding and took the opportunity to make an upward cut that tore through the enraged leather of the muscular man's boot. I spun around just in time to dodge a sword swing that, had it connected, would have cleaved me in two. Instead, I allowed the weapon to embed itself in one of the tavern's pillars, where it became stuck for a moment.

It was a moment enough. I advanced, pushing against the muscular man with a shoulder and, as I freed myself, the tip of the dagger grazed the tendon of his arm. The pain was evident on his face, and his grip on the sword weakened.

The fight continued, but the numbers dwindled. One by one, the attackers fell to my skill and precision until only the muscular man remained, panting and with his back against the wall. Determination still burned in his eyes as he struggled to lift the sword, ready to continue despite the blood staining his attire and the sweat soaking his brow.

I took a step forward, giving him a cold stare. The dagger, reflecting the dim light of the room for the last time. However, the muscular man, finally understanding the futility of his resistance, dropped the sword with a clang and raised his hands in surrender.

I threw the dagger with precision, watching as it embedded itself in my opponent's shoulder with a resonant impact that pinned him against the wooden wall. The runes adorning the blade briefly shone before deactivating, returning me to the harsh reality of the situation. Cold sweat ran down my back as the echo of my own action reverberated in my ears.

"Damn, that... that was impressive," I whispered, feeling the intensity of the confrontation still pulsating in my chest. My eyes quickly scanned the scene, registering the unconscious and wounded figures scattered on the floor. With a shake of my head, I forced myself not to be distracted. The villagers, alerted by the commotion, were likely already reacting.

With determined steps, I approached the body of the muscular man still trapped in the wall and tore the sword from its hilt with a firm gesture. The Gandálfr runes once again worked their magic, radiating a calming sensation that countered the adrenaline still coursing through my veins.

Without wasting time, I left the bar, taking the opportunity to steal money from some of the unconscious people before heading outside. Once there, I ran straight to Bullseye. I mounted the horse quickly and, without hesitation, galloped away from that village full of criminals, leaving behind the chaos I had caused in my wake.