Lonelythree

[WSA 2025 Entry]

[You have inherited The Class Huntsman Of Death.]
......
Deathborne.

A game that I couldn’t stop playing in my free time.  A game that hooked me to the core. A game that I was determined to finish and achieve the true happy ending by hook or crook.

You might be wondering why.

It's because no matter what choices I made, no matter how much I tried, it always ended with a bad ending.

An ending with the protagonist winning at the cost of innumerable sacrifices and being left alone as the last surviving human.

Would you enjoy a movie, novel, or game that ends with only the hero surviving?

Would you like such an ending?

Of course not.

Neither could I.

That's why I tried my hardest and kept trying. Alas, despite all my efforts, I have yet to reach the true happy good ending.

That's why I kept on grinding to achieve a good ending until I got that message.

[Congratulations, player Mr. Per781, for clearing all hidden conditions. You are now eligible to access the hidden route, as deemed by the game developer.] 

[Do you want to proceed?] 

[Yes] [No] 

In the next moment, I felt my soul getting dragged by and my consciousness getting detached from the main body.

Being a hardcore otaku, I knew what was going on. I almost showed a middle finger and screamed, "I will commit suicide in another world if you drag me."

Just then hand emerged from the screen and pulled me into the monitor leaving the room empty which resonated with my last words.

"FUCKING HELLLL!"

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

The dark hall reeked of blood and decay, the air thick with a nauseating stench that clung to every breath.

Cloaked figures stood motionless, their faces obscured by shadows. At the center of the room, a man with wild, greyish hair stood before a grotesque altar. It was a monstrous creation—an amalgamation of bones and rotting flesh molded into the shape of a giant, clawed hand. The torchlight flickered, casting eerie, dancing shadows across the twisted structure.

Phil Malcolm gripped a weathered book tightly, his eyes gleaming with manic fervor.

"Hahaha! The time has come!" he declared, his voice echoing like a chorus of madness.

His laughter was sharp and grating, filling the hall with an unsettling sense of dread. "I, Phil Malcolm, the 31st Patriarch of the Malcolm family, have prepared for decades for this moment! The descent of the Heir of the Primordial Creator!"

112:The Primordial Creator