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

Ashton sat cross-legged on the dusty floor of his room, a faint beam of moonlight casting an eerie glow on the book in his hands.

The book, Celestial Harmony, looked ancient yet oddly pristine. Its cover was made of dark leather, smooth to the touch, with intricate golden patterns etched into its surface. Despite its age, the corners were sharp, and the spine showed no signs of wear. It felt unnatural for a book supposedly printed in the year 800.

"The printed date goes back to the year 800... and here we are in the 2024 Martina Calendar," Ashton muttered, running his fingers over the embossed title. "Suspicious. How is it still in one piece after so many centuries?"

His voice carried a mix of curiosity and unease, the silence of the room amplifying his words. Shaking his head, he flipped the pages, his eyes scanning the dense, ornate writing. The words were heavy, almost suffocating, with a strange rhythm that made them hard to follow.

"Just what is it?" Ashton grumbled, his frustration growing. He scratched his head, ruffling his dark hair. "I saw it glinting, but now that I’ve taken this thing, it doesn’t even work!"

The dim light flickered as Ashton sighed, leaning back against the wall. His eyes burned from the effort of trying to decipher the archaic text, yet he pushed forward, unwilling to let the mystery slip away. He skimmed through the pages, careful not to skip over anything important.

Suddenly, he paused.

A faint shimmer danced on one of the pages, like a whisper of light in the darkness. "Huh?" Ashton muttered, leaning closer. His breath hitched as he noticed the writing shifting—scrambling as if the letters had minds of their own.

The ink twisted and turned, letters breaking apart and reassembling themselves into new words. His hand trembled slightly, but he couldn’t look away.

The new words finally settled, revealing a bold header: Ritual of Celestial Entry.

Ashton swallowed hard and continued reading.

---

Preparation:

At dusk or midnight, light a single white candle. Hold the Book of Celestial Guidance in your hands.

Invocation:

Close your eyes and recite the following poem aloud:

Stars above, reveal the door,

Guide me where secrets soar.

In the shadow’s veil, the path does lie,

Open the way beneath the sky. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Key Phrase:

Place your hand on the book and whisper:

"The stars guide me to the unseen."

The candle flame will flicker, signaling that the hidden entrance has been revealed.

---

At the bottom of the page, in bold red letters, a warning appeared: [Caution] Only doing it on Monday at the time of 10 PM would work.

---

Ashton’s chest tightened. The air in the room felt heavier, colder. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he had just read.

"What is this?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, hoping the writing would return to normal when he opened them again. But when he looked, the words remained the same, glowing faintly against the page.

"This can’t be real," Ashton muttered, though his heart raced as if he already knew the truth. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his mind swirling with possibilities. Was this some kind of elaborate prank? Or was the book... alive in some way?

The eerie quiet of the room pressed down on him. Ashton closed the book with a soft thud and stared at the cover, his thoughts churning.

Whatever this book was, it wasn’t ordinary. And now, it had pulled him into its mystery.

...

Lukas adjusted the mask over his face, ensuring it covered his features completely. He stood before the heavy iron door, its surface scarred and rusted with time. The air around him felt damp and stale, but that didn’t matter. He was here for a purpose. Knocking twice and then rapping three times in quick succession, he leaned in and whispered the code words.

"I’m here to deliver the package. The hawk flies tonight."

There was silence for a moment, followed by the sound of bolts sliding open. The door creaked ajar, revealing a pair of guards. Both were towering figures in black suits, their eyes sharp and untrusting. One of them stepped forward, his hand resting casually on a holstered weapon.

"Package, huh? Hope it’s not fragile," the guard said with a smirk.

Lukas met his gaze calmly. "It’s tougher than it looks."

The other guard chuckled but motioned for Lukas to enter. "Don’t cause trouble, kid."

Lukas stepped inside, the door slamming shut behind him. His first impression was one of chaos. The black market was a sprawling underground maze, dimly lit by flickering neon lights in every possible shade. The air buzzed with the noise of haggling, the clink of weapons, and murmured deals spoken in hushed tones.

The alleys were crammed with stalls and booths, their owners shouting over one another to lure customers. The goods on display ranged from deadly weapons to rare magical artifacts, stolen jewelry, and strange potions. Some items looked ancient, others dangerously experimental. Every corner seemed to offer something that should never have been made, let alone sold.

The crowd was just as chaotic as the goods. Lukas saw nobles disguised in cheap cloaks, criminals flaunting their wealth, and shadowy figures who spoke only in gestures. Every face was a mask, whether literal or figurative. It was a twisted melting pot of society’s worst.

For a moment, Lukas stopped to observe. This place wasn’t just a market—it was a symbol of the Huntington Empire’s rot. Morals didn’t exist here. Greed was the law, and strength was the only authority.

Despite all this, Lukas knew the truth. The Royal Family didn’t want this place dismantled. Why would they? The black market served a purpose. It was a perfect way to keep tabs on the criminals and the nobles who supported them. It was easier to let this chaos thrive under watchful eyes than to deal with the political nightmare of destroying it.

The nobles used this place as much as the criminals did. They funded illegal ventures, traded forbidden goods, and even hired assassins. The Royal Family, rather than stopping it, made sure the market operated just enough to serve their needs. Information flowed through here like blood through veins, and the monarchy drank deeply from it.

Lukas couldn’t help but feel a mix of disgust and admiration. Disgust for the way society’s decay was laid bare here, and admiration for how effectively the Royal Family exploited it. He adjusted his mask again and moved deeper into the chaos, his steps purposeful.

If the Huntington Empire thrived on darkness, Lukas thought, then this was its beating heart.