The Huntsman Of Death:A Gamer's POV As Side Character-Chapter 129 - 131

Freya yawned as she made her way to the archery club, her steps slow and unhurried. Another day, another tedious task. She couldn't help but let her mind wander back to the day's events.

"That guy's always in the spotlight," she muttered, shaking her head at the memory of a certain someone. "Why does trouble follow him around like a shadow?"

She pushed the thought aside as she entered the archery range, her eyes scanning the equipment. Picking up a bow, she let out a deep breath, her father's words ringing in her mind.

"You don't have a talent for shooting, daughter. Just give up. Even with wind ability, you need a natural knack for it."

Freya's lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes burning with defiance. "I'll prove you wrong," she whispered fiercely.

She nocked an arrow and pulled the string, determination etched on her face.

TANG!

The string snapped back, leaving the arrow behind. She tried again, but the result was the same.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed a group of students snickering. Her head snapped toward them, her gaze icy and sharp. "Lowlives," she hissed. "Do you want to die?"

The glow in her eyes and the menace in her voice were enough to scatter the group in fear.

Just then, a warm, gentle voice interrupted her anger. "Junior, you shouldn't be so harsh. Everyone starts somewhere."

Freya turned her head to see a tall, well-dressed young man approaching. He smiled at her, the kind of smile that radiated charm but felt hollow.

"And you are?" she asked coldly, tilting her head.

The man faltered, his confidence cracking for a moment. "Ah, apologies for the late introduction," he said, recovering quickly. "I am Vladimir Negan, heir to the Count Negan household and president of the archery club. We met at the banquet, remember?"

Freya blinked, her expression unimpressed. "Uh-huh. And?"

Vladimir's confident demeanor wavered again, but he quickly composed himself. "Well… I thought I could teach you. Would you like some guidance?"

Freya raised an eyebrow. "Are you any good?"

His chest puffed up with pride. "I'm the best here," he said, flashing a dazzling smile.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, noticing the way his gaze lingered on her. It made her uncomfortable, but she kept her tone neutral. "No. I'm good on my own."

"What?" Vladimir's confident mask slipped, disbelief coloring his voice.

"You need guidance, Freya," he said, his tone becoming insistent. "As your senior, it's my duty to help you improve."

Freya felt her irritation grow, particularly at the way his eyes roamed over her. For a moment, she considered tearing into him verbally. But then her father's face flashed in her mind—stern, unyielding, and ready to bulldoze over any scandal.

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Before she could decide, a hand lightly touched her arm. Startled, she turned to see Lukas standing beside her, his calm expression paired with a faint smile that could melt stone.

"Freya, what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice steady and confident. "Did you forget about practice? Why are you chatting with seniors?"

Freya blinked, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. "You—"

"And you are?" Vladimir cut in sharply, his tone icy as he glared at Lukas.

"I'm her guide," Lukas replied, his smile never faltering.

"Guide?" Vladimir scoffed. "You think you can guide her better than I can?"

"When did I say that?" Lukas asked, frowning slightly.

"It's what you implied," Vladimir snapped. "If you're better than me, by all means, go ahead. But are you?"

"Of course not," Lukas said with a small shrug. "I'm just a beginner. But beginners can understand what someone like her needs to improve. Geniuses like you often overlook the basics."

Vladimir's face turned red, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Then prove it!"

Freya glanced between the two, her own irritation growing. "Wait, what—"

Before she could finish, Lukas gently placed his hand on her arm again. "If you don't improve, you'll just keep attracting people like him," he murmured softly, leaning closer.

Her cheeks turned red, and for a moment, her usual cold demeanor faltered. "Fine," she muttered, looking away.

Lukas guided her carefully, maintaining enough distance to avoid making her uncomfortable. He adjusted her grip on the bow and corrected her posture, his voice calm and patient as he explained.

"Relax your shoulders. Keep your stance firm but flexible. Hold the string like this—" He placed his hand over hers briefly, showing her the motion. "Feel the tension. Let it flow naturally."

Freya followed his instructions, her embarrassment slowly giving way to focus.

"Now, remember this stance and sensation. You're a good student, Freya," Lukas said, stepping back. "Just control your strength and aim."

TANG!

The string sang as the arrow flew, hitting the target with a satisfying thud.

Freya's eyes widened in awe. "I… did it?"

"Try again," Lukas said, stepping aside.

She nocked another arrow and repeated the motions. Though the arrow didn't hit the target, it still flew, and that alone was progress.

Watching this, Vladimir's jaw tightened. His jealousy burned as he turned his glare to Lukas.

"If looks could kill," Lukas muttered under his breath, smirking.

"See?" Lukas said, glancing at Vladimir with a playful grin. "Didn't I say I could help her improve?"

Vladimir forced a smile, though his anger was clear. "You're… quite something."

"Well, I have work to do, so I'll leave now," Lukas said casually. He gave Freya a small wave and turned to leave, but not before glancing back at Vladimir with a grin that only made the Count's heir seethe more.

As Lukas walked away, his smile grew wider. Mission accomplished.

....

The Mystic Club was packed, yet the atmosphere felt strangely subdued. Lukas stepped inside, his sharp eyes scanning the room. The students here were quiet and disciplined, unlike other bustling clubs. His gaze roamed until it landed on a golden-haired woman sitting near the back with an air of cold authority.

There she is.

Lukas made his way through the rows of students and slid into the seat beside her. Selena's serene face barely shifted, but there was a flicker of annoyance in her golden eyes.

"What do you want?" Selena asked, her voice even but clipped.

"Why can't I sit here?" Lukas replied, leaning back in his chair casually. His calm tone seemed to unsettle her.

Selena stiffened slightly, her mind racing. Why is he sitting here? Does he know something? No, I've been careful. Act normal. Stay calm.

"You can sit here, just don't disturb me," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as if dismissing him.

Lukas smirked, noting her subtle discomfort but saying nothing. He glanced at the front of the room where Martin, the club's mentor, walked in. The older man carried a thick book and greeted the students warmly.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I trust you all had a wonderful week?"

"Yes, Sir!" the students replied in unison.

Martin opened his book, his spectacles glinting under the club's dim light. "Today, we'll explore mysticism further. Last week, we studied the Gods. Now, we'll examine their divine attributes and the rituals associated with them."

The room quieted as Martin's deep, knowledgeable voice filled the space. "Let's begin with the Goddess of Creation. She governs life, vitality, fertility, and prosperity. Her worshippers perform rituals to bless crops, ensure healthy births, and invite abundance into their lives. Angels under her guidance carry out her will, representing the cycles of life and renewal."

Lukas listened intently, his mind already mapping the information to the game world he knew. A student raised their hand and asked, "Sir, how powerful are these angels?"

Martin smiled, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "Angels' power corresponds to their ranks, starting from Spark, Acolyte, Warden, Sentient, Ascended, Eclipse, and finally, Calamity. Calamity-level beings represent the peak of divine power accessible to humans."

The students leaned forward, captivated. "How can humans reach angelic power?" another student asked.

"To do so," Martin explained, "one must not only max out their class level at 100 but also comprehend the uniqueness of their class. This is the essence of mastery."

"What is 'uniqueness,' sir?" someone else chimed in.

Martin adjusted his spectacles thoughtfully. "Uniqueness is the defining path of your class. Take a swordsman, for example. Their uniqueness lies in mastering the way of the sword. If they achieve supreme mastery—so profound that even divinity acknowledges it—they can transcend their limits and become a Sword God."

Gasps and whispers spread through the room, filled with awe. "Has anyone ever become a Sword God?" a student asked, their excitement palpable.

"No," Martin said simply, his tone firm. "Theoretically, it's possible. But no one has reached that pinnacle. For a swordsman to achieve godhood, they must surpass every other Level 100 swordsman in existence and establish unmatched supremacy. Until now, no one has succeeded."

The room fell silent, absorbing the gravity of his words. Lukas leaned back, connecting Martin's explanation to his own situation. So reaching Level 100 is just the beginning. The true challenge lies in breaking through that final barrier—and not just anyone can do it. If someone else already holds the power of that domain, the door to divinity will remain closed.

Selena, seated beside him, maintained her outward composure, but her sharp mind was racing. Martin just revealed one of the world's deepest truths. If Lukas is piecing this together, he might realize how important his class is.

Lukas's thoughts turned inward. With my class, Huntsman of Death, the end is clear—death. But I won't be the only one chasing that path. There will be others. And if someone else claims the domain of death first, my path will be blocked.