The Huntsman Of Death:A Gamer's POV As Side Character

I tried to look away from the sharp, piercing gaze boring into me. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. Brenda wasn't the kind of person you could ignore, though. Her voice alone was like an iron clamp.

Trying to ease the tension, I coughed lightly and plastered on my best smile—a charming one that could probably stop hearts.

But that wasn't enough to save me.

"Are you a masochist?" she asked suddenly.

I froze, feeling a crack form in my carefully maintained composure.

"Pardon?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

She crossed her arms, unimpressed. "What? Did you hurt your ears too?"

"No, I didn't!" I replied quickly, flustered. "I just don't understand why you're asking me that, Miss Brenda."

Brenda took a deep breath, then almost screamed, "Then why the hell are you always injured every time something happens? For God's sake, this is the fourth time!"

"Third!" I corrected her automatically.

She rewarded me with a solid smack on the head.

"It won't be a surprise if I see you like this again next week," she muttered, exasperated.

I rubbed my head and tried to defend myself. "I'm not the only one who got injured, you know. There's someone else too."

Brenda put her hands on her hips and gave me a pointed look. "You might not be the only one, but you're always one of them."

A sudden burst of laughter broke through the room, making both Brenda and me freeze. Turning toward the sound, I noticed a shadow flickering on the nearby screen.

Brenda opened her mouth to say something, but I held up a hand to stop her and walked over to the bed on the other side of the room, separated by a greenish curtain. Without hesitation, I grabbed the curtain and yanked it down in one smooth motion.

"KYAAAH!"

Two familiar figures, Reed and Ashton, toppled forward, landing in a heap on the floor.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Reed groaned, sitting up and rubbing his head.

Behind them, I noticed a small group of girls who immediately turned away, whispering among themselves. Well, most of them turned away.

One pair of eyes stayed fixed on me—Leila.

"Woah!" she breathed, her gaze filled with blatant admiration.

I froze, suddenly very aware of my bare torso.

Leila coughed awkwardly, realizing how obvious she'd been. "I didn't mean that! I was just saying…you've got so many scars."

Her words didn't make it any better.

Feeling exposed, I quickly grabbed a shirt and threw it on. Leila whistled low under her breath, deliberately looking away with a cheeky grin.

Reed, meanwhile, got to his feet, completely unbothered by the chaos. "See? Didn't I tell you my disciple would be fine?"

I sighed. "I'm not your disciple, Reed."

"Whatever!" Ashton muttered, brushing past him. He turned to me. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Selena's sharp voice cut through the room. "Where were you?"

Her suspicion was practically dripping from her tone. I met her gaze and kept my voice steady. "While leading, I heard someone calling for help. I just stepped aside to check it out, but…I guess I got separated from the group."

Everyone stared at me, clearly not buying it.

"Are you telling the truth?" Selena asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Yes," I said firmly. "Why are you questioning me like that?"

Leila stepped forward, trying to ease the tension. But Ashton wasn't done.

"Did you team up with Edwin to take down the person behind this?" he asked bluntly.

I hesitated, then answered, "No, I didn't. It was just a coincidence that I ended up where Edwin was fighting. I didn't play any role in the outcome. You can ask the instructor—Edwin was the one who landed the final blow."

Ava, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke up. Her voice was soft but curious.

"Was he strong?"

"And…was the fight fun?" she added shyly.

I sighed, holding up a hand. "Stop. If you want to know, ask Edwin. I'm not in the mood to talk about it."

Brenda groaned, rubbing her temples. "You kids… I don't understand why you always find yourselves in these kinds of situations. And it's always the same thing, over and over."

The room fell quiet, the atmosphere turning somber.

Then, as if completely unaware of the mood, Reed clapped his hands together. "By the way, since we all survived, why don't we throw a party?"

Ashton groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Reed, read the room for once."

I shook my head, wondering for the hundredth time how someone could be so oblivious.

...

After the drama inside, I tagged along with everyone to step outside. Well, to be precise, Mrs. Brenda threw us out for making too much noise. As the group bustled out, laughing and chattering like a flock of birds, I failed to notice the figure lingering in the shadows near the corner.

The faint sound of a scoff barely reached my ears.

Leaning casually against the wall, a platinum-haired woman stood with her arms folded across her chest. Her cold, steely gaze was fixed on someone in our group—Selena, with her unmistakable purple hair.

"Coincidence," she muttered under her breath, the word dripping with disdain. "That's the last thing I'd believe."

Her sharp eyes drifted away from Selena and scanned the group surrounding me. A flicker of something—anger? jealousy?—flashed across her expression.

"Why are those bitches following him around?" she sneered, her voice low but filled with venom.

Her gaze lingered a moment longer before her lips curled into a scornful smirk. "No, more than that…when did he get so close to them?"

Unaware of her presence, I continued walking with the others, lost in the noise and casual banter. But her gaze burned into the back of my head, leaving an unseen tension hanging in the air.

...…

The royal pathway stretched grandly before Richard, a testament to the Empire's unmatched splendor. Smooth marble tiles shimmered faintly under the golden glow of magical lanterns. Ornate pillars, each carved with depictions of the kingdom's glorious battles, lined the path. Massive tapestries fluttered gently in the cool breeze, their rich colors displaying the insignia of the Royal Knights—a silver phoenix soaring over a blazing sun.

On either side of the pathway, knights in gleaming armor stood in perfect lines. Their polished breastplates reflected the light, and their swords hung at their sides, sheathed but ever ready. Each knight saluted as Richard passed, their fists drawing a circle over their chests.

"His Highness is waiting inside," one of the guards announced in a firm, steady voice.

Richard nodded curtly, his grip tightening on the folder in his hands. His boots echoed on the polished marble as he entered the grand hall.

---

The instant Richard stepped inside, a wave of cold struck him, sending a chill down his spine. The air was icy, heavy with an oppressive silence that made his heart race. The room was vast, its high ceiling disappearing into shadow. The walls were adorned with banners bearing the royal crest, but the cold was all Richard could focus on.

He resisted the urge to use his aura to shield himself; to do so would be seen as an insult, a lack of respect in the presence of the one sitting at the center of the room.

There, at an intricately carved table of dark wood, sat His Highness Regulus Von Stan, the Second Prince of the Empire.

Regulus was a man of striking presence. His platinum hair, as pale as moonlight, cascaded down his back, framing a face carved from stone. His eyes, sharp and icy blue, seemed to pierce through Richard's very soul. He sat upright, his knuckles folded beneath his chin, exuding an aura of authority and pride that seemed to freeze the room even further. Despite his blank expression, there was an undeniable weight to his gaze, a silent reminder of his station and power.

Richard swallowed hard, feeling sweat bead on his forehead despite the cold. Taking a step forward, he bowed deeply. "Your Highness Regulus Von Stan," he greeted, his voice steady but laced with nervousness.

Regulus gave a slight nod, his piercing gaze never wavering. "Speak," he commanded, his tone cold and precise.

Richard placed the folder on the desk with trembling hands and gently pushed it forward. "This contains the details of the summoning ritual, Your Highness," he said, stepping back cautiously.

Regulus opened the folder, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes scanned the contents before he closed it with a soft thud.

"So, Malcolm is involved in summoning an evil god," Regulus said, his voice calm yet carrying an edge sharp enough to cut steel. "It requires a significant number of sacrifices. Tell me, Richard, where did they find so many lives to harvest?"

He tapped his finger on the table, the faint sound echoing ominously in the room.

Richard's throat went dry as he stammered, "Y-Your Highness, it seems... many people have been kidnapped and sacrificed without the Royal Knights being aware."

Regulus leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on the armrests. "So," he said, his voice low but filled with an icy disdain, "the lives of my people are taken right under the nose of the royal family. Is that not a failure of the knights' duty?"

Richard bowed his head deeply, shame washing over him. "I apologize for my negligence, Your Highness."

"Apologies?" Regulus's voice turned colder, and Richard felt as if the temperature in the room had dropped further. "Apologies do not rectify such a grave failure. Do you understand what this means, Richard?"

Richard nodded hastily, his head still bowed. "Yes, Your Highness."