Chapter 40: Familiar scent

Clint started looking around, carefully opening some crates and boxes, checking under tarps and along the shelves. He searched quietly, lifting old spears, testing their weight, then putting them back down.

Most of them were too rusty, the blades dull and chipped. A few swords had cracks along the edges, and some weapons were even broken in half.

"Useless," Clint muttered under his breath, his voice filled with growing frustration.

Minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty. He wiped his forehead, now slightly damp with sweat.

After thirty minutes of searching, he still hadn't found anything worth using. His expression darkened as he let out a deep sigh and sat down on an old wooden beam, the dust rising a little around him.

The moment he sat, his foot pressed too hard on the old floorboard beneath him

Crack!