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

Though I handed over the envelope and instructed Samuel to take the necessary steps, my heart was restless.

The task wasn't simple at all and things might go bad if the opposite side didn't reciprocate with equally good feelings.

Even without acting much, I had already twisted several major threads unintentionally.

The game, at this point, was a delicate balance with a slow crawl towards character growth. But I knew the truth.

The moment you got comfortable, the danger would rear its head, sudden and unforgiving, leaving you gasping for air.

The smallest, seemingly inconsequential details often held the most weight.

I had tried to stay clear of meddling too much, especially with matters tied to Ashton. His condition had been stable, even improving, which gave me some peace of mind. As for the book, I wasn't sure how long Ashton could hold on to it, even though I'd done my best to simplify things for him.

Sniff. Sniff.

A faint, burnt scent wafted into my nose, snapping me out of my thoughts.

Puff. Puff.

A thin trail of smoke curled into the air as Saber exhaled, his face an image of contentment while he lazily twisted the smoke into random shapes.

"Can't you stop for once? You're smoking one after another like a damn chimney," I muttered, waving the smoke away.

Saber smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he took another drag. "You don't understand the beauty of it, Lukas. I suggest you try one before talking."

I scoffed, disgusted. "Pass. I'd rather not shorten my lifespan, thanks."

Saber rummaged through his pockets, his smirk vanishing as he let out a loud groan. "Shit!"

I raised an eyebrow. "What now?"

"I'm out of cigars!" he exclaimed, staring at his empty hands as if they had betrayed him.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You've got to be kidding me. That's your crisis?"

"Yes!" Saber retorted indignantly. "You've no idea how essential this is for my creative process."

"Ask Samuel. He probably has some hidden somewhere," I replied dryly.

Samuel, who had been quietly observing, chuckled before reaching into a drawer. "You're in luck. I keep a reserve for situations like this." He tossed a sleek case to Saber, who caught it with childlike eagerness.

"You're a lifesaver, Samuel," Saber muttered, lighting one up without hesitation. He took a deep drag, blowing out a fresh curl of smoke before glancing at me with a teasing grin. "Admit it—I make things lively around here."

I folded my arms and glared. "You're lucky I didn't throw you out the window."

Samuel chuckled softly. "You two never change."

Despite the lighthearted exchange, there was a subtle unease in the room a tension lurking beneath the smoke-filled air, unspoken but palpable.

Samuel returned shortly after, holding a pouch. "I've got the materials you asked for, and I sold the things this guy looted."

"What do you mean, looted?" Saber asked, looking offended.

Ignoring him, I took the pouch, slipping it directly into my ring. "You two, I need to find someone."

"Who?" Samuel asked, his tone sharp with alertness.

Saber's reaction was calmer, but he stiffened. He coughed and muttered, "Who's dying now?"

"No one," I replied flatly. "I'm looking for a Rune Master."

"Rune Master? Or do you mean a Rune Smith—someone who inscribed runes?" Samuel clarified.

Instead of explaining, I gave the name directly. "His name is Frederic. No title. I don't know where he's buried now, but he should be in Arcadia. Narrow it down to the five princely states. He has green hair, wears glasses, and has a daughter. He might be selling parchment inscribed with runes in local stores."

Samuel frowned, rubbing his chin. "That's going to take significant manpower. Why him specifically? I can arrange for another runesmith."

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"No," I said firmly. "It has to be him. Trust me, the bet will pay off."

Samuel hesitated but nodded, though the tension in the room grew thicker. Saber glanced between us, unease flickering in his eyes.

The air felt heavy with suspense, and even without saying it aloud, we all knew—this search wasn't going to be simple.

"Okay, since we have done all things. It's time to leave and Saber keeps in touch with Samuel."

"Of course I will. If you had informed me prior about the golden egg-laying goose, I would have already come here often."

"What do you mean by Golden laying goose?"Samuel asked but the two ignored it and he wondered why it felt like these two owned the place when it was he who worked hard off his ass here.

.....

Coming out of the black market, I tagged along with Saber to his room.

I walked into the inn, my eyes scanning the shabby room Saber called home. It reeked of neglect—clothes piled everywhere, dust layering the furniture, and the faint stench of stale air lingering around. Saber stood in the center, grinning at me like he was proud of the place.

"This is my humble abode. How is it?" he asked, throwing his arms wide as if to present it to me.

I didn't answer immediately. I couldn't. The room was bad, and I didn't like it.

It was small and smelt very putrid like a rotten piece of shit to the point that it was disgusting. Clothes and things were scattered all around.

Cigar butt was thrown here and there.

What could I say to that?

"How much does it cost?" I finally asked, my tone flat.

"Eighty Velos a day!" Saber said, his voice full of mock pride.

I walked over to the window and opened it, letting in what little air could be considered fresh. The view was worse than the room.

Gloomy alleys stretched out, filled with workers and petty thieves—people surviving rather than living. This was Huntington's outer district, a place no one stayed unless they were desperate or out of options.

"I apologize for leaving you to manage on your own," I said quietly, keeping my gaze outside. "I should have done more to support you."