The Huntsman Of Death:A Gamer's POV As Side Character-Chapter 121 - 123

The air was thick, heavy with a putrid stench that clawed at my throat. I stepped cautiously into the clearing, my boots crunching against the damp ground. The space was eerily quiet, the type of silence that pressed down on your ears and made your skin crawl.

"Did I find the wrong spot?" I muttered, scratching my chin. My voice sounded strange in the stillness, like it didn't belong here.

Then, without warning, the silence was shattered.

BOOM!

The ground beneath me trembled as a blast echoed through the forest. Bright flashes of lightning erupted in the distance, lighting up the dense canopy like a violent storm tearing through the night.

"Lightning..." I muttered, narrowing my eyes. "Edwin must have reached the target."

The plan was working. Plan A, as I'd called it, wasn't perfect, but it had one goal.

That get Edwin into the thick of things.

"Good," I murmured, stepping forward. "If he's there, then the hardest part is already underway."

This wasn't how things usually played out. In the game, it was Ashton who took charge here, leading the push. But this wasn't the game. Ashton was still raw, a talent in the making, but not yet ready for this level of chaos. Every version of this event ended in unnecessary casualties.

And I wasn't about to let that happen.

No matter how cold or detached I could seem, I wasn't heartless. If there was a chance to save lives, I would take it. Besides, the more survivors we had, the better our odds down the line. And Edwin—Edwin was a beast. If anyone could turn the tide, it was him.

Still, he wasn't without flaws.

"There's a weakness in him," I muttered under my breath, my thoughts circling back to Edwin's nature.

Prideful.

Courageous.

He fought with honor, with a sense of valiance that was both admirable and dangerous.

That kind of mindset worked against clean opponents. But against someone dirty? Ruthless? Edwin was vulnerable.

I sighed, shaking my head. "I can't leave everything to him. If he gets too caught up in his ideals, I'll lose a valuable piece of this puzzle."

As I took another step, my boot sank into the ground, nearly throwing me off balance. I caught myself, my heart skipping a beat as I glanced down.

The soil was damp, soft in a way that felt unnatural. I crouched, running my fingers over it. The earth was loose, as if it had been dug up and refilled recently. The hollow feel beneath my hand sent a chill down my spine.

"What the hell is this?" I whispered.

The foul stench grew stronger, more oppressive. Something was wrong here—terribly wrong. The air felt heavier, colder, as if the ground itself was holding its breath.

I stood, my eyes scanning the clearing. The stillness was no longer just eerie—it felt alive, like it was watching me, waiting.

"Whatever's buried here," I muttered, my voice low, "it's not natural."

I reached for my dagger, my fingers tightening around the hilt as I took another step forward. The forest seemed to close in around me, shadows shifting with each flicker of distant lightning.

This wasn't just a battlefield. This place reeked of death, but not the kind that came with war. This was something darker, something festering.

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to stay calm. "No point in second-guessing now," I said to myself. "Whatever this is, I'll deal with it."

As I pressed forward, the faint sound of movement reached my ears—a rustling, low and deliberate. My grip on the dagger tightened.

"I don't have time for surprises," I muttered, my voice barely audible.

The forest didn't respond, but the rustling grew louder.

.......

......

The hunched-back man grinned wildly as Edwin stepped through the mist, his crooked teeth catching the dim moonlight.

"You… are you the one who ruined my plan?" he screeched, his voice sharp and uneven.

Before Edwin could answer, the man threw his head back and let out a harsh, manic laugh. "Brat, I'll kill you and use your skull as decoration!"

His laughter stopped as Edwin emerged fully from the mist. His eyes widened, his grin fading into something closer to disbelief.

Edwin's black hair reflected the faint light, and his clothes were untouched by the grime that surrounded them. The man sneered, though his unease showed in the way his gaze darted.

"So, it's you," the man said, his voice dropping to a growl. "The Lion of Valcrest. Edwin Valcrest."

Edwin glanced at him, unimpressed, as his attention shifted to the field around them. The place reeked of decay, the ground littered with corpses and grotesque symbols. His expression tightened with disgust.

"Since you know who I am, why don't you bow down and lick my feet?" Edwin said flatly. "Maybe I'll spare you."

The man's face twisted in anger. "You… what did you say to me?!" he shouted, his voice cracking.

Edwin didn't respond, his focus turning to the undead gathering around him. He unsheathed his sword, its blade catching the faint light. A soft hum of energy surrounded it as small arcs of lightning began to form.

"Filth like you is always surrounded by filth," he said. "It's a kindness to end it."

The man pulled back his hood, revealing a decayed face with patches of skin rotting away. His yellowed eyes gleamed as he let out another laugh, this one lower and more unhinged.

"I am Dark Magus Mareti," he said, licking his cracked lips. "Remember that name."

Edwin gave him a cold look. "I don't bother remembering the names of pests," he said, shifting his stance as lightning pulsed along the edge of his blade.

Mareti's expression hardened. "Kill him!" he roared.

The undead moved in quickly, their twisted forms lurching toward Edwin. He stepped aside from the first one with ease, his sword slicing cleanly through its body. Lightning crackled as the creature disintegrated.

Another lunged at him, claws aimed for his chest. Edwin ducked under the attack and swung his sword upward in a sharp arc, splitting the creature apart as lightning burned through its remains.

More undead closed in, some dragging themselves along the ground, others leaping with unnatural speed. Edwin moved efficiently, each step deliberate, each strike precise. He cut through them with clean, decisive motions, his blade leaving trails of lightning that tore through the creatures.

A larger beast charged at him, its horned head lowered. Edwin sidestepped and swung low, cutting through its legs. As it fell, he drove his blade into its chest, lightning exploding outward and reducing the surrounding filth to ash.

When the last of the creatures fell, the air was heavy with the stench of burning flesh. Edwin lowered his blade, his expression calm, as he surveyed the field of ashes and broken bodies.

Mareti stood a distance away, gripping his staff. His face twitched as his gaze flickered over the remains of his undead army.

"It seems," Mareti said quietly, his voice tense, "I need to get serious."

…..

The sickly red tint staining my boots caught my attention. I didn't need to think hard to guess what it was, but I forced myself to ignore it and pushed forward.

But before I could take another step, an unbearable burning sensation erupted in my eyes, as if they'd been set on fire.

"Why..." I muttered, clutching at my face.

The world around me warped, twisting into a distorted, blurry nightmare. My head spun as whispers filled the air, growing louder with every passing second. Maddening voices, each more unhinged than the last, clawed at my sanity.

[Save us!]

[Avenge us!]

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[Please... avenge us... He killed us.]

[He gouged out our eyes.]

[He burned us alive... My baby... save my baby!]

[He killed my mother..]

[He dug out her flesh.]

[He killed..Killed…Killed…]

My nose twitched, and I felt warm liquid trickling down—blood. I clamped a hand over it, but the voices kept coming, drilling into my skull.

Annoying distorted voice boomed like thunder all around the place.

"Stop!" I shouted. "Gah... stop!"

The whispers only grew louder, echoing in a maddening symphony. My ears throbbed, my head pounded, and my legs felt weak. I shook my head violently, trying to regain control, but my vision was still blurred.

When I finally managed to open my eyes, the distortion had faded—but what replaced it was far worse.

I stood knee-deep in a pool of blood. It was thick, dark, and reeked of decay. Around me, shadowy, misty figures gathered in dense clusters, their forms shifting unnaturally like smoke caught in a breeze. My heart raced as ghostly hands began to emerge from the mist, their skeletal fingers curling around my legs and feet.

They were cold—unbearably cold. My skin prickled under their touch, and I could feel their hatred seeping into me like venom. The specters' forms became clearer, their faces twisted and malformed, their empty eyes staring into my soul.

"Get off me," I muttered, trying to pull away, but they held on tighter.