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

Inside the quarters, the stranger made his way to a study illuminated by soft golden light. A beautiful woman sat at a grand desk. Her long, silky white hair flowed like a cascade, curling slightly at the ends with a bluish sheen. Her porcelain skin seemed to glow in the dim light, and her piercing blue eyes held an icy sharpness that could freeze anyone in their tracks. Her features were delicate yet regal, with a quiet elegance that commanded respect.

She glanced up, her cold gaze locking onto the man.

"Tell me, Salus," she said, her voice calm but edged with authority. "What did you find?"

Salus stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Your Grace, Princess Yvonne." His movements were precise, practiced, and filled with respect. "There seems to be something suspicious. He said he found Mareti while investigating a case of pregnant women being sold in the black market."

Yvonne’s expression hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. A wave of icy energy swept through the room, making the air heavy.

"Are there still people participating in the slave trade? And pregnant women, no less?" Her tone was sharp, filled with restrained fury.

…

Salus lowered his head further, beads of sweat forming on his brow despite his composure. Though he was powerful, Yvonne’s presence was overwhelming. Her mere aura could freeze the soul of even the strongest mage.

"Your Grace," Salus said carefully, "I was unaware of this. No matter how tight security is, gaps can still exist."

"I don’t like excuses," Yvonne snapped, her voice colder than ice. She closed her eyes for a moment, regaining her composure. When she opened them again, her tone softened just slightly, though the coldness remained.

"I’ll speak to my father about this matter later," she said. "For now, tell me what else you found unusual about him."

Salus straightened slightly, though he remained cautious. "Unusual mental strength," he said.

Yvonne raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Unusual? How so?"

"I had to exert considerable effort to pull him into the dream world," Salus admitted. "His mental strength is likely around 20 to 30. That’s far beyond what I expected from someone of his age. It made it difficult, but his lack of experience allowed me to proceed."

Yvonne’s expression shifted slightly, her interest piqued. "Go on."

Salus nodded. "As per your orders, I asked about the Ancient Heir but refrained from prying into how he came to know about the secret ritual."

Yvonne tapped her fingers on the desk, deep in thought. "Wise. It’s better to proceed cautiously. He has done something commendable by stopping Mareti, so we should observe him carefully rather than scare him off."

Salus bowed again. "Your Grace, what are your orders regarding him?"

Yvonne turned to the globe on her desk, spinning it slowly. "Support the black market trader named Samuel. Release him and help him grow. As for Lukas, monitor him closely. We’ll uncover his connections and his organization’s backing in due time."

She paused, her eyes narrowing. "With his background, he fits the profile of an agent. A troublesome past is often the perfect disguise."

Salus nodded, silently acknowledging her wisdom.

"Now leave," Yvonne commanded, her tone final.

Salus bowed deeply. "As you wish, Your Grace." He stepped back and disappeared as quietly as he had entered.

Left alone, Yvonne leaned back in her chair, folding her hands elegantly. Her cold gaze lingered on the spinning globe.

"The Evil Gods are growing restless," she murmured. "The calamity seems all too real. In such times, unknown factors like him may prove crucial."

A small, icy smile played on her lips. "As for how big a factor you’ll be…"

Her blue eyes gleamed with a mix of curiosity and cunning.

"Only time will tell."

....

The lecture hall was buzzing with low murmurs as Professor Walton stepped onto the podium. He adjusted his glasses with a deliberate motion and scanned the room. His presence commanded respect—an aura of intelligence mixed with a quiet charisma. The moment he cleared his throat, the entire room fell silent.

"Mana," he began, his voice calm yet captivating, "occurs naturally in its pure form. But then you might wonder—where does elemental mana come from?"

The room stayed silent, but I could sense the collective curiosity of the students. I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms, waiting for his answer.

"The answer is both simple and complex," Walton continued, pacing slowly. "It’s converted by spirits. These beings are like nature’s alchemists, transforming pure mana into elemental forms."

He gestured to the air as if drawing the invisible patterns of mana around him. "Those with spirit or mystic eyes can see it—the world glittering with sparkling objects of various colors. These are the spirits at work, taking pure mana and converting it into forms like fire, water, earth, and air."

I sighed quietly, feeling a pang of jealousy. Having a spirit’s blessing sounded amazing—way better than the constant effort mages like me had to put in.

Walton’s voice cut through my thoughts. "Certain climates are rich in specific elemental spirits. That’s why some places are naturally attuned to certain elements. Mages summon this corresponding mana using spells and magic circles. But those blessed by spirits? They can control pure mana directly, shaping it into elemental forms without all the effort."

I couldn’t help but frown. Lucky bastards. They didn’t need to visualize complicated structures or calculate intricate formulas like mages did. It was simple and efficient for them.

Back when I played using Ashton’s character, I didn’t notice the gap between blessings and mage abilities. Ashton’s class was overpowered, and the stronger he got, the more broken his abilities became. But now? Standing here in this new reality, I felt the difference painfully.

"Life’s never fair," I muttered under my breath.

"Of course it’s not," a voice piped up beside me.

I turned to see Reed grinning like an idiot. His bright eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned closer, resting his chin on his hand. "Just look at me," he said, his voice dripping with mock arrogance. "I’m the heir of the Ancient Ones and a descendant of the Dragon God."

A thick vein bulged on my forehead. My jaw clenched as I resisted the urge to punch him in the face. Instead, I gave him a slow, deliberate middle finger and turned back to the lecture. Reed laughed, completely unfazed.

Walton walked to the blackboard and began drawing simple symbols, each one glowing faintly as he infused them with mana. "This," he said, pointing to the first set of runes, "is a novice-level first-grade spell for fire, water, air, and earth."

I stood in front of the blackboard, my eyes locked onto the glowing symbols drawn by Professor Walton. They floated faintly in the air, encased in simple magic circles. Each one hummed with a quiet energy, radiating its unique aura.

Flare Spark

Effect: A small burst of fire, useful for igniting objects or causing minor burns.

The symbol was a triangle with a jagged line through it, glowing a warm orange. It felt like it could burst into flames at any moment.

Aqua Orb

Effect: A ball of water forms, useful for dousing flames or minor distractions.

The symbol looked like two concentric circles, glowing soft blue, with wavy lines weaving through them.

Gust Drift

Effect: A gentle breeze that can push small objects or clear away smoke.

Its symbol was a spiral, faintly green, swirling as if alive.

Stone Pebble

Effect: A chunk of earth hardens and can be launched like a projectile.

A square with a small dot in the center glowed a deep brown, radiating a heavy, solid energy.

"These are novice-tier spells," Walton’s voice echoed in my mind. "Simple yet foundational. Master these, and you’ll build a strong base for everything else."

I reached out, almost touching the glowing symbols. They felt so basic, yet the potential they held was undeniable.

He turned back to the class, his glasses catching the light. "Now, I don’t expect all of you to learn this. Not everyone here is a mage. However…" He paused for effect, his gaze sweeping over us.

"Every warrior should at least have some basic knowledge of magic. In battle, recognizing a mage’s spell can mean the difference between life and death. If you can identify the magic, you might be able to counter it—or at least avoid getting roasted alive."

That got a few nervous chuckles from the room. Walton smiled faintly, clearly satisfied with the reaction. Then, his expression turned sly. "Now, let me ask you something. Do you know what’s better than a warrior?"

We all stared at him, waiting for the punchline. He gave us a moment, his lips curling into a knowing smile, before answering, "A magic warrior."

The class erupted into whispers. Walton’s words had everyone intrigued. One student near the front raised his hand tentatively. "Professor, why don’t we just use contracted spirits to wield elemental power instead of learning magic ourselves?"

Walton shook his head, his expression turning serious. "That’s dangerous," he said, his tone firm. "You might not know this, but about a century ago, when this academy was first established, summoning rituals were common practice.

But after the descent of the Abyss, we stopped. The Astral World became infested with spectres—malevolent entities that corrupt everything they touch. Summoning a spirit now risks inviting something far worse."

His words sent a chill through the room. I noticed a few students shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

Walton adjusted his glasses again and continued. "Even now, the Spirit World is unstable. Those with the ability to interact with it risk losing their sanity. The whispers of spectres are maddening, and without proper training, you could end up a vessel for something… unspeakable."

He glanced around the room, his gaze sharp. "If any of you have this ability, do not hide it. Come to a teacher immediately. We’ll teach you how to isolate yourself from the Spirit World and control your spirituality. With guidance, you can protect yourself—and others."

As he spoke, an idea sparked in my mind. It was like a light bulb had gone off, illuminating a path I hadn’t considered before. Why didn’t I think of this sooner? If I could tap into spectral vision, I could use it to navigate the sanctum. It might be risky, but the potential rewards were worth it.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed Walton wrapping up his lecture. But before I could delve deeper into my plan, Reed leaned over again, smirking like he’d just won a prize.

"You look like you’ve seen a ghost," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. "Or maybe you’re just jealous of my divine heritage."

"Shut up, Reed," I muttered, brushing him off.

But even as he laughed at my expense, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this lecture had given me something invaluable—a new perspective, and maybe, just maybe, a way to turn the odds in my favor.