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

A bit far away from the shelter, the crimson-haired demoness rested her elbow over the window hand and placed her cheek over the palm, staring at the scene with a faint smile.

"What an interesting lad! The way he carried himself was quite phenomenal, but..."

Her smile became grave, and her eyes became solemn. "I hope you are on the side of the world, not on the side belonging to creatures beyond the void of the abyss."

"It seems you successfully managed to take care of things but can't do anything about that habit of yours."

Morgana looked back and saw a demonic priest smiling at her. She reacted immediately, as she hadn't sensed the demon's presence, which alerted her. But as she looked at those glowing eyes, figuring it out, she sneered.

"Why? Don't you believe in my strength?"

The Priest chuckled a bit and then looked up. "I believe in your strength, but what can I do if you are a bit naive?"

"What?" Morgana asked with a frown.

Without looking back at her, the Priest spoke. "Since you found the anomaly, you should have killed him."

Morgana's eyes glinted dangerously, and with a blur, she appeared, grabbing the neck of the Priest.

"First, I don't like it when you bark those orders at me. Secondly, if you have the guts, come at me with your real body, bitch."

"You shouldn't use bad words. Moreover, he might prove to be a bigger anomaly than we have anticipated in the future, and it would be worse if he became our enemy," the Priest squeezed out his words despite the pain.

"I don't like your way of talking, and aren't you ashamed to talk about killings as a benevolent Saintess?"

Saying this, she threw the body, slamming it against the wall, and spat.

"It seems you still haven't assumed the role of acting as Saintess. There is no compassion in your heart. All you do is follow commands like a robot."

"I... I am saying this for... your... Yo... Your entanglement with... him might be dan... dange... Spurt..." Before it could finish the sentence, it spurted blood, and the eyes of the Demonic Priest became blurry.

Morgana rushed over, stepped over the Priest, and shouted, "Finish what you are saying... Hey, hey..."

Despite kicking, the Priest refused to nudge, making her sigh.

"It seems her possession broke when I threw this body."

Making sense of the last words, Morgana frowned, but in the next moment, she held both her cheeks.

"My entanglement with him... Hehehe... Doesn't that mean we have quite a fate? That makes it interesting."

Soon, a crazy, bloodthirsty smile erupted.

The one if Lukas were there to witness would have screamed.

Fuck! This bitch is going mad.

A trait of hers when she found an interesting toy.

...

Far away from the Demon Continent, a man with striking yellow hair stood near a grand window, wearing a mask. His gaze drifted toward the vast meadow outside, where horses galloped gracefully across the open fields.

Atop them sat beautiful maidens, their laughter echoing in the wind as they raced one another across the track.

"Are you admiring the beauty of nature," a deep voice broke the silence, "or the beauty of skin?"

The yellow-haired man turned his head and saw a dark-haired man standing beside him, offering him a cup.

"It's both, Mr. Herrick," he replied with a faint smile, accepting the drink before returning his gaze outside. "The temperature in Solvaris is quite mild, so sunny days like this are a blessing."

Herrick took a sip from his own cup and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "While Velmora Kingdom and the Arcadia Empire have optimum climates, Drakeshire is cold, and Braldorn is hot and humid. Each kingdom thrives under its own conditions, giving them unique advantages over us."

The masked man let out a soft chuckle. "What does an ideal climate matter when everything inside is burning?"

Herrick raised a brow. "You mean?"

"Democracy," the man answered with a smirk. "It may keep nobles in check, but it stirs endless conflict."

The golden glow of the evening sun cast long shadows across the luxurious chamber, illuminating the intricate patterns on the walls.

Herrick sat back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass as he observed his companion. The yellow-haired man removed his mask and placed it on the table beside him, revealing sharp features and piercing eyes filled with amusement.

"Since we're on the topic of politics," Herrick began, setting his glass down, "what do you think of the ruling structures of the major kingdoms?"

The masked man leaned back, tapping his fingers against the armrest. "Each has its own strengths and weaknesses. The Solvaris Empire, for example, thrives under its centralized monarchy. The Emperor holds absolute power, but the Council of Lords exists to balance him. A necessary evil, I suppose."

Herrick scoffed. "A necessary evil? More like a group of power-hungry nobles constantly scheming to outmaneuver one another. If not for the Emperor's iron grip, Solvaris would have collapsed under its own weight long ago."

The yellow-haired man chuckled. "True. But compare it to the Velmora Kingdom. A pure aristocracy where only nobles hold power, and the common people are little more than servants. It works for now. But the system is rigid, and any shift in power among the noble houses could send the entire kingdom into chaos."

Herrick nodded. "And then there's Drakenshire. The land of warriors, ruled by strength rather than birthright. A king can only stay in power as long as he's strong enough to defeat challengers. It keeps the throne from stagnating, but it also means there's little room for stability."

The masked man smirked. "Survival of the fittest. Drakenshire's way may seem primitive, but at least it ensures that only the strong lead. Unlike Braldorn."

Herrick sighed. "Braldorn's situation is... complicated. The council rules under the illusion of democracy, but everyone knows it's just a puppet show controlled by the merchant families. Gold speaks louder than laws there."

"Exactly," the yellow-haired man said. "A kingdom where wealth determines power is bound to fall into corruption. It may prosper for now, but greed will eventually consume it from within."

Herrick leaned forward. "And what of Arcadia? A kingdom where democracy truly exists. The people have a voice, but at what cost?"

The masked man exhaled sharply. "Arcadia is an anomaly. True democracy is rare, and yet, they make it work. But their constant internal disputes make them weak in the eyes of other nations. Too many voices, too many opinions. No decisive action. That's why they've never been able to expand beyond their borders."

Herrick traced the rim of his glass with a finger. "So then, which system do you think is best?"

The masked man smirked. "None of them are perfect. Every kingdom has its flaws. But the real question is not which system is best, but which leader is best suited to use that system to their advantage."

Herrick stared at him for a moment before chuckling. "Spoken like a true manipulator."

The yellow-haired man grinned, raising his glass. "I prefer the term strategist."

Herrick clinked his glass against his companion's.

Herrick let out a sigh and nodded. "That reminds me of something Emperor Ferdinand II once said."

His voice dropped slightly as he quoted, "Men and women should have equal fundamental rights. By equal rights, I mean men shouldn't have the right to speak either. The rules and laws of the state shall be regulated solely by monarchy. Even nobles shouldn't exist."

The yellow-haired man turned to Herrick and then burst into laughter. "That was quite a way of thinking back then."

Both of them laughed for a moment before Herrick leaned forward. "Where will you be heading next?"

"I have some business in Drakenshire," the man said, swirling the liquid in his cup. "After that, I'll be returning to Arcadia."

"Arcadia?" Herrick narrowed his eyes. "Do you have something to take care of there?"

A slow, knowing smile spread across the yellow-haired man's lips. He reached up, removed his mask, and looked at Herrick.

"I didn't have any plans before," he admitted. "But it seems I need to make a trip."

Herrick's expression darkened slightly. "And why is that?"

The man's eyes gleamed with interest. "Because someone managed to break the soul-binding contract and still managed to escape without any harm."

The man twirled the glass and chuckled, looking at Herrick. "Unbelievable... isn't it?"