The Huntsman Of Death:A Gamer's POV As Side Character-Chapter 122 - 124

Their hollow voices whispered again, overlapping and incoherent:

[Let it go...]

[If you can't take revenge for us, then accompany us, Big Brother...]

A sharp pain shot through my chest as if they were sucking the life out of me. My legs buckled, and I dropped to my knees, gasping for air. My body felt like lead, and my lungs burned with every shallow breath.

"Stop..." I groaned, clutching my ears. "Just stop!"

But they didn't.

'Damn it! Why did Spectral Vision activate on its own?' I cursed inwardly, trying to block out the chaos.

My mind felt like it was being dragged into a bottomless pit, a hallucination spiraling out of control.

'Lukas... Focus. Don't lose yourself. Pull it together.'

I bit down hard on my tongue, the sharp pain jolting me back for a moment. Blood filled my mouth, but it dulled the other sensations. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to focus.

"SHUT UP!" I roared, my voice echoing across the clearing. "Your revenge... I'll enact it!"

The mist seemed to tremble at my outburst. My mana core surged, and I felt the death energy within it rotating violently, flooding me with strength. A dark aura radiated from my body, pressing outward like an expanding force.

Veins bulged across my face as I swung my arms wildly, shoving at the hands gripping me. One by one, the ghostly figures recoiled, their forms flickering like dying flames.

But then, the air was pierced by a shriek.

"Uu... Uuwwwwuuu..."

It was loud and piercing, filled with raw pain. I froze, my chest heaving as the mist shifted again.

The shadowy figures twisted, shrinking into smaller, humanoid forms. My breath caught as I realized they were children—small, frail, and clinging to a massive dark figure looming behind them.

Their faces were hollow, their eyes wide with terror and anger. The dark figure behind them pulsed, its shape grotesque and shifting, like a nightmare made flesh.

"What is this?" I muttered, my voice barely audible.

Before I could process what I was seeing, a shrill, disembodied voice echoed through the clearing.

[This ground was used to sacrifice young women and pregnant mothers.]

The voice was cold and unfeeling, yet it carried the weight of countless sorrows.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice trembling despite myself.

The voice ignored me, continuing without pause.

[Buried below are the bodies of many. The ones clinging to you are the tainted remains of spirits, filled with anger and hatred.]

My stomach twisted as I glanced at the small figures around me.

They are turning into specters, their pain and rage feeding their transformation. If you do not fulfill fulfill their wish, they will be consumed-and used by an evil sorcerer for darker purposes.]

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to steady my breathing.

"What do I need to do?" I asked, my voice cold and firm.

[You need to kill...]

The voice cut through the silence like a blade.

[Kill the reason and the person behind their suffering.]

Its words hung heavy in the air, and my chest tightened as the next command came.

[You need to end him.]

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I forced myself to ask, "Is that enough?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, an instinctive need for clarity—or perhaps reassurance.

"Is that enough to satisfy them?"

The mist thickened for a moment, curling around me like a suffocating shroud. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, and then the answer came, cold and final.

[Yes.]

As if released from a vice grip, my spectral vision snapped shut. The world around me returned to normal in an instant, the oppressive weight lifted.

I collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air like a drowning man breaking the surface. Cold sweat dripped from the bridge of my nose, falling in soft splatters onto the damp earth. My hands trembled as I clutched the ground, trying to anchor myself in reality.

"I don't know who that spirit was," I muttered, my voice hoarse. "But it helped me survive... If not for it, I might've gone mad."

The memory of their voices lingered, a cacophony of anguish and rage that threatened to pull me under. The danger of my spectral sight had never been clearer.

"I swear," I rasped, forcing myself to my feet, "once this is over, I'm finding Sir Martin. I have to learn how to control these eyes before they destroy me."

My legs wobbled as I stood, but I steadied myself, wiping the sweat from my brow. Turning my gaze toward the distant battlefield, I caught a glimpse of the fading crimson moon overhead. Its eerie glow cast long shadows over the ground, making the bloodstains glimmer like dark rubies.

A hollow laugh escaped my lips, echoing softly in the now-quiet clearing.

"What a wonderful day to hunt," I said, the faintest smirk curling my lips. Then I walked forward, the resolve in my heart as sharp as the blade at my side.

…..

The moment Mareti gripped his staff, a jolt ran through Edwin's body, his senses flaring to life. Mareti's lips moved, muttering a chant so faint and frail it barely reached Edwin's ears.

Suddenly, Edwin's image flickered, and a thin layer of dust rose as dark flames erupted from where he had been standing.

SWISH!

Mareti's grotesque face twisted in irritation, his sunken eyes darting as he clicked his tongue. "An afterimage," he hissed, his voice like nails on glass.

He spun around, his gaze darting through the misty battlefield. As he did, his gnarled hand swept his staff, conjuring a shimmering barrier just in time.

BOOM!

Lightning crackled against the shield, its energy dispersing into the air. Mareti's lips curled into a snarl as he saw another flicker—a blade flashing toward him from his right.

"Bone Wall!" he screeched, slamming the butt of his staff into the ground.

SWISH!

Jagged, spiny bones shot upward, colliding with the figure. But instead of flesh and blood, the strike revealed another afterimage.

"Where are you?!" Mareti's voice cracked, panic creeping into his expression as his yellowed eyes darted wildly.

Then—

BOOM!

A sword erupted through his chest. Mareti let out a guttural scream as lightning surged, illuminating the area in a blinding burst. Edwin, moving with blinding speed, had struck from the opposite direction.

But Mareti's twisted grin didn't falter. His decayed flesh sizzled and melted into shadow, leaving Edwin frowning in disgust.

"A clone?" Edwin muttered, his sharp eyes scanning for his opponent.

He instinctively leaped back as the ground beneath him erupted with bony hands clawing at the air. BANG! He narrowly avoided their grasp, his movements smooth and controlled despite the danger.

In the chaos, Mareti reformed, his grotesque body emerging from the shadows. His laughter was wet and uneven, like a dying man choking on bile.

"Unnatural speed," Mareti crooned, his cracked lips pulling back into a hideous smile.

Edwin's face hardened, his voice sharp and icy. "Who said that?"

Mareti raised his staff, pointing it at the ground where Edwin stood. "Blood," he muttered, his grin widening. "Your shoes… they can't handle the friction. You're tearing your feet apart with every turn, and the blood stains give you away."

He laughed, a shrill, grating sound that echoed through the forest. "First strikers like you are a problem for mages. But experienced ones like me? You're nothing."

Edwin's lips curled into a disdainful smirk. "So much bravado for someone stuck at Warden level."

Mareti's eyes bulged, his entire body shaking like a puppet on a string. His expression contorted into something truly monstrous, his rotten teeth gnashing. "What did you say, brat?!"

He raised his staff and began hurling a barrage of spells. Bolts of energy and waves of shadow ripped through the air, each one narrowly missing Edwin as he weaved through them with fluid grace.

Edwin's movements were swift and deliberate, each dodge precise. He twisted his body to avoid a spiraling shadow bolt, ducked low under a crackling wave of dark energy, and sidestepped a jagged spike of bone erupting from the ground. His expression remained calm, though his sharp eyes tracked every move Mareti made.

"What do you know?!" Mareti screamed, his voice trembling with madness. "What do you know?! I'm stuck, not because I'm weak, but because I abhor evil rituals and practices! Look at my face!"

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He gestured wildly to his decayed visage, his eyes glinting with manic rage. "This is what kindness does! This is the result of a soft heart! But no more. For my revenge, I'll take everything—every vile power—and kill them all. You'll be my next sacrifice!"

Edwin ignored the rant, his focus unwavering. His mind raced as he calculated his next move.

'He can't use the shadow clone endlessly at his level,' Edwin thought, glancing at the smoldering remnants of Mareti's last spell. 'Two or three times, at best. I just need one opening.'

But the searing pain in his feet was a problem. He glanced down at his bloodied shoes, cursing under his breath. 'Tch. If I'd known this was going to happen, I would've brought the reinforced pair.'

His expression darkened as an image of Lukas flashed in his mind—a smug grin etched on the purple-haired man's face. 'This was his trap. I walked right into it.'

Distracted for a split second, Edwin stumbled, his foot catching on loose ground.

BOOM!

He tumbled forward, rolling across the dirt before crashing to a stop. The impact left him winded, his body dragging against the rough ground.

"What—?" Edwin's words cut off as his eyes widened.

Dozens of dark, skeletal hands erupted from the ground, clawing at him. They wrapped around his limbs, pulling him down as Mareti's twisted laughter echoed.

"Hands of Maladay!" Mareti cried, his voice dripping with triumph.

SWISH!

The hands tightened their grip, the air around Edwin growing thick with malice. He strained against them, but their unnatural strength held firm.

Above him, Mareti loomed, his hideous grin stretching wider. "Let's see how your arrogance serves you now, Lion of Valcrest."