Chương 3: The Hunt

Click. The sound of the door echoed softly as Lucas stepped inside his house. The silence that followed felt heavy, almost unnatural after everything that had happened.

"Finally home…" he exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. Now I need to think. That thing… that wasn't human. He moved toward the kitchen, his mind already working. More importantly… I need to understand this ability. After eating and taking a quick shower, his body relaxed, but his mind didn't. Thoughts kept circling back—about the body he now inhabited, about the memories that weren't his, and most of all… about his grandfather.

Curiosity slowly took over, and Lucas began walking through the house, exploring it more carefully this time. Even in his previous life, he had always been curious about old houses—hidden rooms, forgotten objects, things left behind. Maybe this place has something useful… Eventually, he stepped into his grandfather's study, and the moment he entered, a faint smell of old wood and dust filled the air while sunlight filtered through the window.

"What a mess…" Lucas muttered, frowning slightly. As he approached the desk, something caught his attention—a diary. Old, worn, but intact. Curious, he opened it, and at first, it seemed like nothing more than scattered notes. But as he kept reading, his expression slowly changed—from confusion, to surprise, to something sharper.

"…A hunter?" Lucas leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing. His grandfather wasn't just an ordinary man. From the entries, it was clear—he had been a hunter his entire life, and not just that, he came from a long line of hunters. The Ashford name suddenly made more sense.

"Ash… Ashford…" Lucas muttered quietly.

"Ash as in Mountain Ash…The weakness of werewolves…" A faint smile appeared on his face. So even the name carries meaning… But one line stood out more than the others—an armory hidden in the basement. Lucas closed the diary slowly, his heartbeat increasing slightly.

"If those weapons are still usable…" His eyes sharpened.

"…then I can hunt it." He didn't waste time and headed straight for the basement. The basement was dark and filled with old, useless junk—broken furniture, dust, forgotten objects. No weapons. Lucas frowned. No way… He looked around again, slower this time. Someone like him an old hunter wouldn't leave weapons in plain sight…An understanding clicked.

"They're hidden." He began searching carefully—walls, floor, corners. Time passed. Thirty minutes. Then an hour. Frustration slowly built.

"Where the hell is it…" he muttered, pressing his hand against the wall—Click. A small panel sank inward, and a mechanism shifted. A hidden door opened. Lucas froze for a second, then a grin slowly formed on his face.

"…Seriously?" He stepped inside—and stopped. Weapons. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work! Everywhere. Guns, rifles, crossbows, blades, all neatly arranged. Ammunition boxes stacked in corners, body armor hanging on stands. This wasn't just a stash. This was a full armory. He walked slowly inside, taking it all in.

"Damn…" He picked up a gun, feeling its weight—solid, well-maintained. He checked it. Loaded. Click. He pulled it back slightly, testing it. Perfect condition.

"…So this is real," he murmured, a slow smile forming on his face. After a moment, his expression changed again. It's late… I need a plan. He needs to go back upstairs and start writing everything down—target, location, weakness, weapons. Just before leaving, he suddenly stopped.

"…The books." He turned back and found a shelf filled with old volumes: Supernatural Creatures, Weaknesses and Countermeasures, Hunter Field Notes. Lucas grabbed a few and returned to his room. Hours passed as he read, cross-checking everything.

"If I'm not wrong… that thing was a werewolf." He leaned back slightly.

"And from what my ability showed…" His eyes darkened.

"…I can gain something from killing it." He flipped another page.

"Ash… especially mountain ash." Piece by piece, the plan formed. By the time he finished, it was already morning. Lucas sat in silence for a moment.

"I could wait… prepare more." Then he shook his head.

"No." It was injured. This is my chance.

"If I hesitate… I might not get another opportunity." A darker thought followed.

"…And if Peter happens to set his sight on me …" He didn't finish the sentence. Lucas stood up. Having made his decision. He returned to the armory and picked his equipment—a gun, a crossbow, arrows coated with mountain ash, and body armor. Thirty minutes later, he was ready.

"Better safe than sorry…" he muttered, covering himself before leaving the house. Night had fallen again, and the town was silent. Lucas moved carefully until he reached the forest. Then he saw it—the house.

"That's the place." He crouched low, moving slowly, avoiding leaves, avoiding noise, every step calculated. A faint light flickered on the second floor. Someone was inside. Lucas waited. Patient. Still. Hours passed before movement appeared. A man stepped out—around thirty years old, normal at first glance. Lucas narrowed his eyes. The man suddenly stopped.

"…You really think I didn't notice you?" Lucas's heart slammed. Silence followed.

"Come out," the man said coldly.

"I can smell you." Lucas tightened his grip on the gun.

"…Hunter, huh?" The man's body shifted—hair started appearing on his face, fangs, glowing blue eyes, proof that he took an innocent life. In just a second a werewolf appeared in front of his eyes. The man—Martin —looked around carefully, it seems to be wounded but just as dangerous. Lucas slowly stepped out.

"How did you find me?" he asked. Martin stared at Lucas as he realized something, surprised Martin said"…You're just a kid?" Then a grin formed.

"But you do not seem to be shocked by what you see… hmm maybe a hunter." Lucas didn't answer. He quickly raised the gun and fired. Bang. The shot echoed through the forest, hitting Martin's leg.

"Well… that's awkward," Lucas said with a wry smile on his face.

"I was aiming for your head." More shots followed, but Martin moved—fast, too fast. He rolled, dodging, growling, then charged straight at him. The distance closed quickly—20 meters, 15, 10. Lucas's breathing became uneven.

"Move…"Said Lucas trying not to panic. Click. Empty. No time to reload. He dropped the gun and grabbed the crossbow. He aimed and fired. Martin was quickly approaching, almost in front of him.

"Too slow," he growled. Lucas fired—not at him, but ahead of him. Predicting the beast's movement he fired right where he just stepped. The arrow pierced his side. A roar exploded. Lucas quickly prepared another arrow, but Martin was already closer. Too close do to something. In a blur, claws flashed before his eyes. Suddenly Lucas felt it. A sharp pain. Warmth spreading through his body. He looked down shocked as he saw a hand buried deep in his stomach. Blood seeping out.

Slowly, Lucas looked up into Martin's eyes. Shock visibly in his eyes not expecting this outcome. Pain. And something else. This… isn't over.