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

I was jolted awake by the knock at my door, sitting up abruptly and trying to shake off my grogginess. My eyes darted to the clock. It was 12:40 a.m.

"I was asleep for only 40 minutes," I muttered.

But something felt... off. My body wasn't aching anymore, which was strange after the brutal day I'd had. I should've been sore and barely able to move.

Curious, I got up and opened the door. Standing there was a man dressed in Victorian-style attire: a double-breasted vest, a finely tailored coat, and polished boots that gleamed in the dim hallway light. His hair was slicked back, and he held a gold pocket watch in one hand, exuding an air of elegance and authority.

"Mr. Lukas, is that right?" he asked, his voice smooth and polite.

"Of course," I said instinctively.

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