In the lord's private study within Eagle Fortress, George and his two subordinates were engaged in a discussion about Brunei Fortress, yet the atmosphere had sunk to a low point.
Katherine slammed her palm heavily on the table, staring at the map of Brunei Fortress. "My lord, the soldiers in our territory are not without the strength to fight. Especially my lieutenant, Bieber—he has already reached the threshold of an apprentice swordsman, and I expect he will advance in just a few days."
George nodded, signaling Katherine to continue.
"Furthermore, while we may not match them in terms of extraordinary power, we can compensate with numbers and coordination. If we wait for them to expose a weakness, we will definitely be able to wound that Horst."
However, this unrealistic plan caused the experienced Marcus to shake his head.
He directly refuted Katherine's proposal, "Captain Katherine, you should know that a Tier 2 Knight, as someone who can use the Source Armor, cannot be harmed no matter how much we attack."
Katherine was well aware of the Source Armor. It was an exclusive ability of Tier 2 Knights, which involved drawing out their internal Source Energy to form a protective layer around their entire body, rendering them impervious to blades and arrows, even capable of resisting magical spells.
And Source Energy was the foundation of all extraordinary beings—just as mages consumed it to cast spells, swordsmen used it to unleash sword auras.
Still, Katherine was undeterred. "Yes, as you say, Sir Marcus, our opponent can indeed summon Source Armor, but it is not permanent. As long as we continue attacking, we can gradually deplete it. Once that armor is gone, it will be our moment to strike back."
Just when Katherine thought her argument would be acknowledged, Marcus still held his opposing stance.
"I understand your method well. I have witnessed similar scenarios on the battlefield, but such a tactic requires at least five extraordinary individuals. With just the three of us, it is nothing short of suicide."
Katherine frowned slightly, clearly not agreeing with his assessment.
At that moment, George stepped in to prevent further argument.
"Enough, Marcus, Katherine. There is merit in both of your suggestions, and I will take them into account."
"In the coming days, I need you to do the following: First, intensify the soldiers' training and try to cultivate another apprentice-level extraordinary.
"Second, join me for sparring every morning to develop better teamwork.
"Third, send out scouts to monitor Brunei Fortress and observe their reaction to the assassin's disappearance and my survival."
"Understood, Lord George." The two stopped their argument, nodded in acknowledgment, and then left to carry out his orders.
Once they departed, George also began making his own preparations. He needed to enhance his own strength, but more importantly, he had to investigate the strange changes in his body over the past few days.
Taking up a letter opener from the desk, George glanced at his chest. The memory of pulling out an arrow a few days ago was still fresh in his mind, as was the bizarre transformation his body had undergone last night.
By now, George was almost certain that his body possessed an incredible healing ability.
To test his hypothesis, he raised the blade and slashed his own arm. Instead of ordinary red blood, golden-red liquid seeped out, dripping onto the floor.
A peculiar itching sensation arose from the wound, and as it intensified, the flesh on both sides of the cut rapidly mended itself. Within moments, the wound vanished completely.
"As expected..."
George felt a surge of excitement at the astonishing speed of his healing—this ability could grant him a huge advantage in battle.
However, he figured that injuries to internal organs would likely take longer to heal, even with this newfound power.
Placing the letter opener back on the desk, George turned his attention to the golden-red blood now staining the floor.
Under the sunlight, the blood shimmered with a mesmerizing radiance, as if it contained some mysterious energy within.
From a medical standpoint in his previous life, golden blood would indicate an iron deficiency.
But George shook his head. His body was in perfect health—this was clearly something else entirely.
What about according to this world's knowledge? He scoured through his predecessor's memories in search of an answer.
Soon, George recalled a passage regarding golden blood. Back when the former baron was still alive, the young George had once stumbled upon an old book in the family library—The Travels of Leicester.
The book not only chronicled the epic adventures of the elven explorer Leicester but also mentioned the blood of dragons.
Dragons were among the most mysterious creatures on this continent. Their appearances were rare, but each time they emerged, they left devastation in their wake.
It was said that dragons possessed massive wings, powerful limbs, and could crush a human with a mere movement. Once they reached adulthood, their power was equivalent to a Tier 6 Legend, making them the most formidable beings beneath the gods.
According to Leicester's writings, dragon blood was golden in color and was an extremely rare alchemical ingredient. Any potion made from it could enable a creature to surpass the limitations of its species and reach unimaginable heights.
Looking at his own golden-red blood, George dismissed the idea that it was dragon blood.
For one, the color was not an exact match. More importantly, his strength remained at the Tier 1 level with no significant boost.
However, Leicester had also noted that any being with golden blood must possess an extraordinarily powerful bloodline.
"A powerful bloodline, huh?" George murmured, touching his previously wounded arm.
Over the past few days, he had realized his blood was anything but ordinary. He hadn't expected it to be a symbol of some formidable lineage.
Had he transformed from a regular human into some kind of demi-human?
Regardless, the rapid healing alone was already a tremendous advantage.
Recalling the events of last night, George noticed that the white fur on his body, his elongated canines, and his razor-sharp claws all bore a striking resemblance to werewolves from the Western fantasy stories of his past life.
That meant… on the night of the assassination, he had already become a werewolf.
Apart from the changes in his appearance, George found no real downside to becoming a werewolf. If anything, it was thanks to his newfound bloodline that he survived the assassin's attack. Without it, he would have been slain before Marcus and the others could arrive.
Strangely, there seemed to be no records of werewolves in this world—not even myths or legends.
In contrast, vampires were well-documented in historical texts over the past few centuries.
The realization of his werewolf bloodline filled George with both excitement and dread. Excitement, because it had significantly enhanced his combat ability and promised even greater potential to uncover.
Dread, because the transformations were too conspicuous. If someone were to discover his secret, he might become a target for elimination.
Thus, until he reached Tier 5, George resolved to conceal his identity as a werewolf, limit his transformations, and explore the true source of his newfound power.