Chereads / Reborn as the Ancestor of Werewolves / Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: Setting the Trap

Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: Setting the Trap

Night fell over Eagle Castle, with moonlight casting a tranquil glow. The castle was silent, save for the occasional footsteps of patrolling guards holding lanterns. Taking advantage of a lapse in the guards' movements, a shadowy figure slipped into the castle and began scaling the wall toward Kain's bedroom.

Inside, Kain lay seemingly asleep, his soft breaths barely audible.

The intruder landed silently with a soft "thud" and approached the bed cautiously. He frowned, puzzled by the sight before him. He had shot Kain in the heart with a crossbow the previous night and watched him die. How was it possible that Kain was alive and training as though nothing had happened?

Determined to ensure the job was finished, the shadowy figure drew a long blade from his back.

"This time, there'll be no coming back," he muttered, raising the blade to strike.

Just as the blade descended, Kain's eyes shot open. Rolling swiftly to the side, he avoided the strike, which instead split the pillow in two.

"How is this possible?" the assassin hissed under his breath.

"You're wondering why I'm awake, aren't you?" Kain retorted, gripping his longsword and rising to his feet.

The assassin, realizing the fight had turned, lashed out again with a flourish of his blade. Kain deflected the blow, though the impact sent him reeling.

"Action!" Kain shouted.

Two figures burst through the door—a man and a woman clad in leather armor. They swiftly joined the fray, their coordinated attacks pressuring the assassin. Within moments, the tide turned, and the intruder was disarmed and restrained.

Breathing heavily, Kain noticed a strange sensation in his body. Under the moonlight streaming through the window, he observed his reflection: white fur growing along his arms, elongated claws at his fingertips, and sharp fangs glinting in his mouth. Yet, just as quickly as the changes had appeared, they faded away, leaving him in his normal state. Even the cuts he'd sustained during the fight healed instantaneously.

"Speak! Who sent you to assassinate Baron Kain?" the woman demanded, slamming her fist into the assassin's stomach.

The woman, Catherine Chus, had been raised in Kain's territory and trained as a swordsman of exceptional talent. Her fiery personality was matched by her unwavering loyalty.

Meanwhile, the man, Marcus Amell, silently observed the aftermath of Kain's transformation. Unlike Catherine, Marcus exuded a calm, steady demeanor, befitting a knight who had risen through sheer merit.

"Kain, are you unharmed?" Marcus finally asked after the tension subsided.

"I'm fine," Kain replied, masking his unease. "Take this assassin to the dungeons. I'll join you shortly."

As the assassin was dragged away, Kain reflected on the unexpected turn of events. His transformation was undeniably tied to the strange blood coursing through him. Whatever the explanation, now was not the time to investigate.

In the dimly lit dungeon, Marcus lit torches along the walls as the trio locked the assassin in a cell and bound him tightly to a chair. Catherine yanked away the intruder's mask, revealing a young man with striking green-blue eyes and short yellow hair.

"Who are you?" Kain demanded. "I don't recognize your face."

The assassin remained silent, his gaze defiantly locked on Kain.

"Oh, you think you're tough, huh?" Catherine snapped, retrieving a set of tools designed for interrogation.

Before she could proceed, Marcus interjected. "If he's from Osoth, as his features suggest, he's likely from a noble family. Nobles from the northwestern regions often possess knightly abilities, but they wouldn't lower themselves to assassination. This one must be a fallen noble or a wandering knight."

The assassin's expression shifted ever so slightly at Marcus's deduction, confirming his words.

"Well, well," Kain said, his voice steady. "It seems we're getting closer to the truth. Let's see how long your silence lasts."

The battle wasn't just with swords anymore; it had shifted into a contest of wills and wits.