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

[A few days ago.]

"Kya!"

SWISH!

A scream tore through the air as the sharp blur of a sword cut through flesh, severing the arm of a bald man with a scar over his eye. He fell to his knees, clutching his bleeding shoulder, his agonized scream echoing through the silence.

The severed arm landed with a wet thud, splattering blood across the ground. The boy holding the sword stood motionless, his eyes cold and emotionless as they locked onto the man’s face.

The man gritted his teeth, his body trembling with pain, but his glare was unwavering.

"You nobles will never understand," he spat, his voice hoarse with rage.

"You’ll never understand the suffering we endured under your tyranny!"

"Evil..Bad..No, we aren’t the real evil rather it’s you."

The boy’s blank stare didn’t waver as he replied in a low, cold voice, "Why should I care about the feelings of a criminal?"

The man let out a bitter laugh, his words cutting deeper than any blade.

"We did this to survive! To feed our parents, our wives, our children. And you—" His voice cracked as he gestured to the blood-soaked battlefield. "You killed them all! Every single one of them was once an innocent person who had no choice!"

The boy’s grip on his sword faltered.His hand trembled as the man’s words hit him like a weight he couldn’t bear.

"You think I wanted this?" the man shouted, his face contorted with anguish. "I was a knight once..I was an honorable knight! But when I refused to serve your corrupt lords, they ruined me. They destroyed everything I loved, leaving me with no choice but to fight back."

Tears streaked the man’s face, his voice growing softer but no less piercing.

"And now, you’ve taken the only thing I had left. Did you even stop to think about their families? Their wives waiting for their husbands, the children waiting for their fathers, the mothers hoping their sons would return home?"

The boy’s chest tightened. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as guilt clawed at the edges of his composure.

The man noticed the hesitation and smirked through his pain, his voice filled with venom.

"See? You know, don’t you? You know what you’ve done, but it doesn’t matter to you. You’re just like her. Cold. Heartless. A monster... just like your whore of a mother."

The boy’s eyes widened, his trembling hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.

"What did you say?" he whispered coldly as his voice became sharper and his eyes glinted dangerously.

The man sneered, even as blood poured from his wound. "What? Did I lie? Who knows how many lovers your mother had, whoring herself while you—"

SWISH!

The blade cut through the air, silencing him. Blood spattered the ground as his head fell to the side, his sneer frozen in death.

The boy stood there with the blood dripped sword in hand, his breathing heavy and uneven. His face was pale, his blank expression slowly crumbling under the weight of the man’s words.

And in the silence that followed, the boy felt an unbearable hollowness that no victory could ever fill.

The boy stood amidst the lifeless bodies, his sword dripping with blood. The battlefield was silent, except for the whisper of the wind carrying the stench of death. He turned to leave, but froze when a faint, eerie sound reached his ears.

Whispers.

The corpses began to stir. Blood pooled together, forming shapes and faces. The dead rose, their hollow eyes staring at him. Men, women, children woke up with faces twisted in pain and anger.

"Why did you kill them?" a child’s voice echoed, soft yet piercing.

The boy staggered back as a young girl approached, her tiny hand clutching a bloodstained doll. "My papa won’t come home now," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.

A woman with hollow cheeks and blood-soaked hair stepped forward. "Do you know how much we suffered? Do you care?"

More figures appeared with wives clutching at their chests, mothers crying out for their sons, children staring at him with empty eyes. Their voices overlapped, rising into a wailing chorus.

"You destroyed us!"

"Was it worth it?"

"You’re a monster!"

Cold, bloodied hands gripped his arms, his legs, his shoulders. He struggled, but more hands emerged, pulling him down into the crimson mire. Their voices screamed in his ears, filling his mind with their pain and hatred.

"STOP!" he shouted, thrashing violently as he was dragged by dark hands that slowly consumed him making him scream.

"STOPPP…HUHH!"

Suddenly, everything disappeared.

He woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat and looked around the room.

Taking a moment to remember things, he covered his face gasping heavily.

"HAAA!Another nightmare...Why?"

"Why is this happening to me?"

"Is this a curse for my wrongdoing?"

Every time he had this nightmare his heart grew in guilt that made him drown in it

He could still remember every minute and second of the day.

One of his maids was kidnapped by bandits and tracing her, when he reached the place he was utterly bewildered at the sight.

Those people were about to molest her.Around he also saw several women’s cages and this made his mind go black and he went to carnage.

It was only after he killed them all and official arrived to investigate did he know that every one of them had families and to his shock, though they sell women and loot people, a part of the sum goes to orphans.

Apparently, most of them had grievances against the nobles but since they can’t take on the mighty ones,they go after servants. And most of the time nobles don’t bat an eye if a few people disappear.

They were vile and should be killed but what about people who depend on them? The innocent people were suffering.

As for compensating them with money can it compare to the pain of loss

Rising, Ashton looked at his class once again and signed, "Justice...Just what is true justice and how do I enforce it?"

"Everything feels wrong yet right. From our perspective what is wrong seems right from others and from what we think right is wrong for others."

He looked at the ceiling waiting for an answer but there was no one to help him get an answer.

"No need to waste time on pessimistic thoughts."

Dressing up, he stepped out only to notice a haphazardly written letter stuck in the boss.

"Whose is it?Mother?"

"Knowing her meticulousness, it shouldn’t be her?"

Thinking this, he opened it and saw a message on it.

[3.15 PM Saturday at the regular meeting spot, the secluded building behind the library. Anyone who dared to remain absent shall...]

"Huh! A gathering!"

He wanted to discard it as a joke but seeing the warning his eyes narrowed. He hates threats.

Due to being threatened several times by some spoiled brat, he hates this stupidity.

"Is it a prank? But what if this was something important."

He thought of asking Roderick but knowing him, things might get weird and if he wasn’t enough of trouble,he gonna pull Leila into the fray.

"Let’s see what’s going on."