An ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling of the dining hall, illuminating the entire room.
George and the others sat around the dining table, enjoying fine wine and delicacies while engaging in idle conversation.
The only invited guests tonight were Catherine, Marcus, Horst, and several of his apprentice extraordinary retainers.
Compared to the bustling liveliness in the parlor, things on George's side were rather quiet, with only a few people conversing in hushed tones.
Perhaps to break the silence, Horst spoke up, "On my way to Regett Territory, I heard rumors that His Majesty Anderna intends to go to war against the orcs."
Anderna Weiss, the current king of the Dilan Kingdom, had taken his ancestor Kailos as a role model since ascending the throne.
He had attempted several reforms in Kailos's image, but most ended in failure. In recent years, he had shifted his focus to the Orc Empire, vowing to seize all of their territory. This move had greatly burdened the nobility, as military expenses had ballooned severalfold each year.
George sighed. "Another war already? It's been less than two years since the last conflict with the Orc Empire."
Marcus added, "I fear His Majesty's new plan will meet strong resistance in parliament."
Catherine kept eating, completely uninterested in politics or war.
If anything, she was quite looking forward to a new war—it would be another chance to sharpen her swordsmanship on the battlefield.
Horst chuckled lightly. "You guessed right, Marcus. Those old men in parliament did voice their opposition, but they were quickly silenced—by a sixth-tier powerhouse summoned by His Majesty."
"What!? A sixth-tier?" Catherine exclaimed in surprise.
Horst nodded. "That's right. And not just any sixth-tier legend, but one said to be from the Dark Elf Kingdom."
George frowned, sensing that something was wrong. "Uncle Horst, is this person going to participate in the war against the orcs?"
Horst shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe His Majesty has his own plans."
George didn't respond. He picked up his wine glass with his left hand and took a sip.
Then, gazing into the red wine, he fell deep into thought.
Perhaps Horst, Marcus, and the others didn't realize it yet, but George had already seen the broader picture.
In the hundred years since the founding of the human kingdom, there had been alliances with intelligent races like dwarves and elves...
But never had they allowed foreign interference in internal affairs. And now, Anderna had crossed that line.
It was worth remembering that when the Dilan Kingdom was founded, it didn't rely on any other race.
Even the former King Deli probably never imagined that his descendants would collude with the dark elves.
Moreover, as the ruler of the kingdom, Anderna was often at odds with the nobility. Combining these factors, this was undoubtedly bad news for the kingdom.
Suppressing his thoughts, George decided to first deal with the current threat—he could consider the kingdom's fate after Horst was taken care of.
He set down his wine glass and resumed his conversation with Horst.
The banquet concluded amidst casual chatter.
Raising a hand, George signaled the servants to clean the dining room. He rubbed his forehead, feeling slightly dizzy.
Tonight's hospitality had been hard to refuse. First, he had two glasses of wine with the soldiers in the parlor.
Then, several more with Horst, Marcus, and Catherine.
His current body couldn't handle alcohol nearly as well as his previous one. To sober up, he had already drunk several cups of sugar water.
As for the others, they still seemed relatively clear-headed—except for Catherine, who had dozed off.
Marcus was beside her, trying to wake her. Horst, on the other hand, was red-faced, chatting with his retainers.
Suddenly, Horst called out to George.
"George Gerald."
Still feeling dizzy, George noticed something strange in his tone.
"What is it, Uncle Horst?"
"I'm placing you under arrest for the crime of treason. I advise you to surrender peacefully."
As soon as he finished speaking, white light rings surged from Horst's body, enveloping each of his retainers.
Spiritual Source Aura—a unique ability of a Tier-Two knight. It enhanced the target's strength and speed while forming temporary armor.
"Why!?"
Before George could react, the retainers—now glowing with silver-white light—charged at him, Marcus, and Catherine.
Already on guard, George yanked Catherine behind him just as an enemy sword was about to strike her.
Falling to the ground, Catherine groggily woke up—only to find a white longsword coming at her.
Clang!
George blocked the blow just in time.
He barked an order at the dazed Catherine. "Grab your weapon—we're under attack!"
Marcus also sprang into action, launching a wave of sword energy at the retainers.
But Horst intercepted it with ease.
"Marcus, give it up. You'll have a much brighter future if you follow me."
As a knight loyal to the Regett Territory, Marcus replied firmly, "I'm sorry, Lord Horst, but I must decline your offer."
Horst didn't seem angry. "Very well. I admire your loyalty."
With that, he lunged at Marcus with his sword.
Meanwhile, George and Catherine were struggling against five of Horst's retainers.
Thanks to the aura's boost, their power was roughly equivalent to Tier-One extraordinaires.
Eventually, George slipped up and took a cut to his right arm.
Golden-red blood soaked his sleeve.
Sensing his weakness, the five began focusing their attacks on him. Despite Catherine doing her best to cover him, the wounds on George's body kept increasing.
One retainer seized the opportunity and raised his sword to pierce George's throat.
What he didn't expect was to be met with George's blood-red eyes.
A violent aura exploded from George's body. His sharp claws—somehow unnoticed until now—were already embedded in the retainer's chest.
In the retainer's stunned gaze, George yanked his hand free, sending blood spraying through the air.
"M–Monster…"
The retainer clutched his abdomen, convulsing, then collapsed.
White fur rapidly sprouted over George's body. His canine teeth extended again.
Moonlight poured through the dining hall's tall windows, casting a silver glow over him.
A surge of euphoric exhilaration filled his heart.
George discarded the ornamental longsword.
Clang...
He gathered spiritual source energy into the claws on his hands and raised his crimson eyes toward the remaining four retainers, who were now backing away in fear.
"Vermin."
The word dripped with contempt. It seemed that upon fully transforming into a werewolf, George's personality had also shifted.
He moved—so fast he left behind only afterimages.
The first retainer didn't even have time to react before George's claw crushed his skull.
The second tried to flee but was cleaved in half by a wave of platinum energy.
The third couldn't even see George's movements before being ripped apart by his claws.
The fourth, the only one left, dropped his sword and pleaded desperately, "Don't kill me! Please—I can help you—"
He never finished his sentence.
George sliced him cleanly into three pieces.
"Pathetic tricks."
George picked up the poisoned dagger the man had been hiding behind his back and began