Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate
Chapter 148: Hunting Game...

Chapter 148: Hunting Game...

FLASHBACK: Six Months Ago

The fresh smell of pine and wet earth filled the air, mixed with the distant sound of the wind. Sunlight passed through the tall trees, creating patterns on the forest floor.

A sharp whistle cut through the quiet.

Thwack.

An arrow lodged itself into the trunk of an ancient oak, just a fraction off target.

"Are you getting tired, Your Highness?" Luther asked with a smirk. His golden eyes sparkled with mischief as he relaxed his stance and lowered his bow.

Damian snorted, rolling his shoulders. "Tired? Hardly. Just giving you a chance to catch up."

One of the lords chuckled as he retrieved a fresh arrow from his quiver. "I don’t know, Prince Damian. Lord Luther’s shots have been alarmingly accurate today. Perhaps you should sit this next round out."

Damian raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his features. "And miss the chance to wipe that smug look off his face? I think not."

Luther smirked. "Confident words for someone who just missed their last shot."

Damian shot him a glare, but before he could retort, King Lucian—watching the exchange from atop his black steed—let out a deep chuckle. "Enough bickering. You’re both embarrassingly competitive."

One of the lords grinned. "It’s tradition, Your Majesty."

Indeed, the hunting game had been a long-standing sport among Arcadia’s elite—both for leisure and for practice. Lords, warriors, and even the Crown Prince himself joined the event to sharpen their skills.

Today’s hunt had already seen three successful kills—two deer and a wild boar, all taken down with a combination of bows, speed, and claws.

Damian stretched, showing confidence. "Alright," he said, rolling his shoulders. "Let’s make this more interesting. Next kill wins."

Luther hummed. "And what’s the wager?"

Damian smirked. "Bragging rights."

Luther sighed dramatically. "Such a high-stakes game."

Lucian, still mounted, shook his head but said nothing. His silver eyes, so like his son’s, swept over the clearing, ever watchful.

The hunting party continued moving through the dense forest, their footsteps muffled by the soft earth. Birds fluttered above, disturbed by their presence, but otherwise, the woods remained still.

Lucian rode ahead, his sharp silver eyes surveying the path ahead.

Luther, still on foot, matched his pace with ease, his golden gaze flickering between the king and Damian, who was already preparing for the next shot.

"You’ve done a great job training him," Lucian remarked in an approving tone. "He’s more focused and has better instincts than he did last year."

Luther smirked, adjusting the grip on his bow. "The prince is a fast learner. Stubborn as hell, but that only works in his favour."

Lucian let out a low chuckle. "That, he gets from me."

Luther hummed, amused. "And his recklessness?"

"Also me," Lucian admitted with a faint smirk. "But his discipline, his ability to think on his feet? That, I’d say, is your doing."

Luther’s expression didn’t change, but something unreadable flickered in his eyes. "I only sharpened what was already there. He’s got the makings of a great ruler—just needs time to grow into it."

Lucian nodded, his gaze momentarily shifting to his son. Damian was speaking with the other lords, laughter breaking through the tension of the hunt. He was confident and sharp, but most importantly, he had earned their respect.

"A kingdom doesn’t just need strength, Luther," Lucian murmured. "It needs someone who understands when to be ruthless and when to be merciful. Someone who listens. Someone who learns."

Luther exhaled through his nose. "You’re saying he’ll be a better king than you?"

Lucian’s lips twitched slightly. "That’s what any ruler should hope for their heir."

Luther was quiet for a moment before he spoke in a thoughtful tone. "He’ll get there. But if he makes a mistake, if he strays too far—"

Lucian’s eyes darkened slightly. "That’s why he has people like you beside him."

Luther cast him a glance before smirking. "Then let’s hope he listens to me more often."

Lucian huffed, amused. "Let’s hope."

The conversation drifted into silence, but the understanding between them was clear.

Then—

A rustle. A shift in the undergrowth.

A big, black-furred creature came out of the darkness. Its body was a strange mix of muscle and sharp claws.

The lords and guards reacted in a split second. Arrows notched. Swords drawn.

But the beast wasn’t headed for them.

It was charging straight for the King.

Everything moved too fast. Damian barely had time to react.

Lucian’s horse jumped in fright, almost throwing the King off its back. The beast charged forward, its sharp teeth glinting in the light.

But then—

Before it could reach Lucian, Luther was there.

His body shifted mid-air, claws extending as he met the creature head-on. Their collision sent them both crashing into the undergrowth. Snarls and the sickening sound of tearing flesh filled the air.

Luther’s claws found their mark, ripping through the beast’s throat. A spray of blood hit the forest floor as the creature let out a final, strangled cry. But the victory came at a cost.

A sharp crack.

As they tumbled, Luther’s back slammed against a jagged rock, his head snapping against it with bone-rattling force. A sharp gasp tore from his throat.

Then, he felt another surge of pain. The beast’s claws had cut deep into his chest, tearing through muscle and leaving a large, open wound.

Blood poured freely. Too much.

His werewolf instincts kicked in, his body struggling to heal—but it was too much at once. His wolf howled inside him, desperate to mend the wounds, but it couldn’t heal both.

His breath shuddered. His vision blurred.

Damian rushed forward, but by the time he reached him, Luther’s breathing was shallow. Blood seeped between his fingers where he clutched his wound, his usual smirk absent.

"Damn it," Damian growled, pressing his hands against the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. "Stay awake."

Luther coughed weakly, amusement flickering in his golden eyes. "Looks like... you win this round, Your Highness."

Lucian was there too, kneeling beside Luther. "We need to get him back to the palace. Now."

The hunt was over.

The world blurred as Damian and the others rushed Luther back. The journey back to the palace felt like an eternity.

By the time they reached the infirmary, Luther’s breaths were ragged and his skin deathly pale.

The palace’s best healers worked tirelessly, but it was clear.

The wound was fatal.

Damian stood beside his bed, jaw tight, fists clenched. "You shouldn’t have," he muttered under his breath.

Luther let out a weak chuckle. "You’re welcome."

And then—

Luther’s body stilled.

His breathing ceased.

The room went quiet.

Damian exhaled sharply, stepping back, his stomach twisting in a way he wasn’t used to.

A minute passed.

Then another.

Damian was about to walk away and break the news to his father when...

A sharp inhale.

Luther’s eyes snapped open.

A gasp tore from his throat as he jolted upright, his golden eyes burning as if something in him had changed.

"Where am I?"