Adam had previously believed that encountering otherworldly beings too soon would not bode well, primarily because in such interactions, he would inevitably occupy the disadvantageous position. After all, he was still not fully grown, while those beings—regardless of other factors—were bound to have more combat experience than him.
However, now that Adam had confirmed that some otherworldly beings had lost their means of concealing their anomalies, he could now seize the initiative when interacting with them.
"Of course, there's no rush," Adam thought, blending back into the now-calm crowd. As he continued selling meat pies from his basket, his mind was occupied with these thoughts.
"The witch doctor's capture will surely lead to some otherworldly beings, who frequently purchase his potions, revealing their identities. The Church will act soon, and approaching them now might drag me into the mix."
"On the other hand, for those otherworldly beings who have concealed themselves for a long time, their vigilance would surely mean they possess backup potions. They'll hold out longer. All I need is to find them before they can no longer keep up."
After selling a pie to a customer, Adam, like most others, smiled. The reasons for his smile may have differed, but the joy was shared.
When the flames on the pyre began to dim, Maggie found Adam. The meat pies had sold well, and while there were still some left, they would be taken home to eat.
Lina, trailing behind Alis, cheerfully called out to Adam as she ran over and threw herself into his legs, clearly having had a good time that night.
Before long, they had found Alis, and the three of them chatted casually about the execution before heading home.
Standing in the attic, Adam quietly completed his transformation, then listened intently to the surrounding sounds.
Tonight was not the right time to venture out; the Church had likely prepared its traps and was waiting for those otherworldly beings, unable to contain themselves after the witch doctor's arrest, to reveal themselves.
However, this blockade would likely last only a few days. The Church would need to rest; they couldn't keep setting traps every night. Moreover, while some otherworldly beings might act recklessly, after they had been dealt with, the remaining ones would be cautious and intelligent. It was not a matter of simply lying in wait to capture them.
"The bloodline is growing more restless," Adam thought, shifting back to his human form as he lay on his bed. In his werewolf form, he could think little, so he relied on his human state to carefully analyze all the information he had gathered.
"In about two weeks, my bloodline will mature," Adam mused, filled with anticipation. "After that, it's time to prepare for approaching otherworldly beings."
His hand instinctively reached up to trace the <-shaped scar beneath his eye, and distant memories stirred within him. The recollections were not particularly pleasant, but neither were they terrible.
Over the next few days, the nights grew increasingly restless, and Adam could feel his bloodline's agitation growing stronger.
Through his observations during the day, everything appeared to have settled down.
"Do I continue waiting?" he wondered. While venturing out now was undoubtedly dangerous, he traced the scar on his face and, after two more nights of waiting, decided to go out again.
The night was unnervingly silent, the stillness carrying an air of unease. Adam looked out across the city; aside from a few distant lights, the entire place was draped in darkness.
In his werewolf form, Adam felt no hesitation. He swiftly made his way to Baron Mansra's mansion, scaling the ivy-covered wall with practiced ease.
He intended to gather information on Baron Mansra before seeking out traces of otherworldly beings elsewhere.
However, at that moment, Adam's animal instincts sensed something amiss.
"It's as though I've intruded upon another beast's domain!" Adam sensed an aggressive, unknown force surging toward him, an invisible clash that made his bloodline stir again, triggering a latent power within him.
It flooded his body, rushing toward his brain, and everything seemed to explode in his mind. In that moment, he saw a strange and hazy realm, half-real, half-illusion.
A werewolf made of black smoke, its eyes glowing a blood-red hue, lunged at him. Its massive form seemed to take over Adam's entire field of vision.
Adam gritted his teeth and, without a moment's hesitation, countered, charging headfirst into the fray. You dare pounce on me? Then I will strike back!
In his werewolf form, Adam had little time for contemplation. He followed his instincts, and all that mattered was the raw power of the encounter.
He collided with the shadowy wolf, and as the creature's smoky body dispersed and reformed, it spun and raised its massive claws to strike at Adam's back.
The black smoke wrapped around him, seemingly trying to cover him entirely.
A cacophony of sensations assaulted Adam: fragmented whispers, warped images, and an overwhelming howling noise.
Suddenly, Adam's form faded, vanishing into the encroaching shadowy wolf.
A sharp pain shot through his forehead, and he snapped back, the vision shattering. He was once again crouched by the window, his body pressed against the wall.
The door at the far end of the corridor opened, and a large man with shoulder-length brown wavy hair, a scruffy beard, and wearing loose robes stepped out. His brown eyes swept across the room, as if peering straight through the wall, locking onto Adam's position.
With a swift step, the man transformed into a brown-furred werewolf, charging toward Adam with the force of a cannonball.
A fellow of his kind—and an exceptionally powerful one at that.
Realizing this, Adam instinctively followed his inner urge and leaped off the wall, swiftly clearing the garden fence.
The brown-furred werewolf reached the window and, with a single bound, landed on the windowsill, crouching low. His eyes scanned the shadows, but all he saw was a fleeting silhouette vanishing.
"This one?" The werewolf shifted back to human form, jumping back inside, tightening his robe.
"Who is that?" A man in noble attire, with a receding hairline—Baron Mansra—emerged with an air of calm authority. Upon closer inspection, a complex heraldic mark could be seen on the back of his hand.
The mark consisted of a half-circle and a triangle, filled with various symbols.
"A small one," the large man remarked, his desire to pursue fading. The creature had potential, sensing and entering his perception field even before awakening its bloodline, and retreating successfully. Such control over one's instincts was rare among werewolves—sorcerers would surely take an interest.
"With Hoda the witch doctor dead, it seems everyone is coming out of the woodwork," Baron Mansra muttered, his gaze falling upon the broken floorboards and claw marks on the window. His heraldic mark remained undisturbed as he looked down at the man and added, "And remember, don't make a move in my presence!"
"Understood," the large man responded with a nonchalant scratch of his face, acknowledging the baron's words, seemingly unaffected by his arrogance.
Nobles were different from otherworldly beings. While both drew power from their bloodlines, nobles commanded not only their own strength, but that of their entire lineage—making them far more formidable.
...
After making a few more rounds to ensure he was not being followed, Adam lost all desire to search for otherworldly beings. He made his way back to the attic.
"This Baron Mansra is quite the wild card," Adam muttered, rubbing his head in frustration. Not only did the baron harbor a group of bandits outside the city, but he also maintained ties with werewolves in Roya.
In a theocratic kingdom like Saint Heavenly Sound, where the Church heavily restricted the nobility, it was bold—perhaps even reckless—for a nobleman to cultivate such close ties with werewolves.
"Have I overestimated myself? If so, plans will need to change," Adam thought, methodically analyzing the tangled web of relationships in the South District of Roya City, and reconsidering his course of action.
Finally, his mind gave way to fatigue, and he curled up in the corner of his bed, drifting into a restless sleep.