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

The plain, beautiful landscape was turned into a nightmarish hell, a desolate wasteland littered with countless corpses, twisted and broken.

Blood ran in rivers across the cracked, parched ground, pooling in dark, ominous puddles that soaked into the earth.

The world itself seemed to be in ruin, with shattered, mud-thatched houses and scorched trees standing like charred skeletons against a sky choked with thick, black clouds.

The air was heavy with the stench of decay, and an unnatural silence blanketed everything, broken only by the occasional groan of collapsing structures.

It was as if an apocalypse had ravaged every inch of this place, leaving nothing but death and despair.

The air was thick with the stench of decay and sulfur. The ground beneath him cracked and groaned as if the earth itself was in pain.

In the midst of all this, a person's vision blurred as he struggled to stay conscious.

In the center of this grim scene, a wounded man with bluish hair knelt on the blood-streaked ground. His body was covered in countless wounds, cuts, and bruises, each one seeping blood.

His face was blank while his eyes were hollow and dazed, as though his spirit was as broken as the world around him. He was lost amidst the devastation, a lone figure surrounded by death.

His body was slowly cracking, and each crack was pulsating with a cold, blue light that seemed to drain what little life he had left. He knelt in the center of a decrepit ruin, surrounded by the remnants of a world that had been torn apart.

Towering above him were massive entities, beings of darkness and shadow that seemed to devour everything in their path. These monstrous figures stretched high into the sky, their forms blending with the clouds, their shadows swallowing the ruins below.

These monstrosities looked down as their images shifted and writhed like living shadows.

In their eyes was an ever-growing thirst for hunger that haunted the world.

From one of these shadows, an enormous hand reached out, vast enough to block out the heavens. It loomed over the kneeling man, descending with terrifying speed, ready to crush the last remnants of life.

"NOOOOOO!"

A desperate scream echoed through the desolation, and suddenly, the blue-haired boy opened his eyes.

As the boy's scream faded, he awoke with a gasp as his eyes snapped open, only to find himself back in his luxurious room.

"HAAAA! HAAAAA!"

The terror of his nightmare clung to him, leaving his body drenched in sweat and his breaths coming in rapid, uneven gasps. He lay in a massive, carved wooden bed, the silk sheets tangled around him, shimmering faintly in the warm glow of the lamps that cast gentle light across the room's polished, dark-wood walls.

Wondering if the world around him was real or not, he looked around the place intently.

The room was richly decorated, with intricate tapestries hanging from the walls.

Tall, velvet curtains framed the large windows, their heavy folds half-drawn to reveal the quiet, moonlit night outside. Ornate shelves were lined with ancient books, rare artifacts, and delicate glass sculptures that caught the flickering lamplight.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to steady his breathing, when a soft, soothing voice broke the silence.

"Ashton, did you have another one of those nightmares?"

A beautiful woman entered the room, her presence calm and comforting. Her hair was a deep chestnut brown, cascading in loose waves over her shoulders, and she wore a long, flowing gown in a rich shade of emerald green that shimmered as she moved.

Her features were soft and gentle, though a hint of worry lingered in her kind eyes as she knelt beside Ashton, reaching out to smooth his sweat-dampened bluish hair.

"Yes, Mother," Ashton murmured, his voice still shaky. "The nightmare... it's not going away."

Her expression softened with concern, her fingers brushing through his hair. "Is this because of the new class you inherited after dealing with those bandits?"

"It might be," he muttered, his gaze drifting to the glowing screen before him, only visible to him.

The title of his new class, Novice Lawbringer, a subclass of Executioner of Justice, was displayed in bold letters on his stats screen—a name that seemed to carry a haunting weight.

Seeing him lost in thought, his mother gently rubbed his head, offering him a small smile of reassurance. "Ashton, you should take it easy for a few days. Your academy will be starting soon, and you need to be rested before then. Don't push yourself so hard and take some time to relax."

Ashton gave a small nod, grateful for her warmth and comfort, though his thoughts still lingered on the nightmare and the destruction he'd seen.

He closed his eyes and attempted to remember the minute details. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

'The nightmare... Why did it feel so real?'

...

"Did you check him properly? Did you find anything troublesome?" a scarred-face man asked.

"I have checked him properly. Except for a dagger, a few notes, and other things, there isn't anything," the other man replied while dragging the unconscious boy across the floor, leaving behind a trail of dark blood.

Then he stared at the purple-haired boy and groaned, "What a handsome face!"

"Tsk!"

"Enough! Don't think of harming him. He is a valuable asset and would fetch us a great sum."

With that, they opened the door of the basement.

Countless pairs of eyes lit up in the dark, locking onto them curiously.

"Do you want to die? Should I make you remember who we are?" He snorted, scaring the onlookers, and grabbing the boy by the collar, he threw him into the far corner of the basement.

Then, he took a jug of water, poured it on the boy's face, and kicked him in the guts.

"Get up, bloody bastard."

"HAAA!" The boy woke up with a scream and roared.

"Where am I? My weapons? What did you do to me, bastard?"

With an angry roar, he attempted to stand up to fight but stumbled, slamming his face onto the cold floor with a groan.

As the dizziness cleared up, he looked down to see his ankles and hands tied.

"Untie me."

"Shut up!"

The man shouted in annoyance and stepped on his shoulder. Then, bending down, he grabbed the boy's hair and spoke coldly, "Just stay here and wait for your demise."

SLAP!

"I told you not to hit his face," the other man shouted, giving a kick to the person who held the boy, making him click his tongue.

"I should get out of here. Seeing that pretty face, I can't resist beating him." The man spat and threw his face onto the floor.

With that, the two men got up and left the cold cellar with parting words.

"Make sure to stay quiet."

As the gang members disappeared, a playful grin flashed on the boy's face as he started to chuckle.

"As expected, I am too weak but..."

"This turned out quite well," he said, looking around at all the others imprisoned in the prison as if asking,

'Isn't it?'