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

Chapter 80 - 82:A Game Of Checkmate
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The world around me exploded in light, and I was suddenly back in the Repository of Celestial Guidance. The cold starlight floor was beneath me again, and I found myself lying there, gasping, my body trembling uncontrollably. Every breath I took felt like a struggle, as though I’d been ripped apart and stitched back together.

Through my blurred vision, I saw the Observer, now seated casually on a chair nearby. He leaned forward, his ever-present smirk widening as he studied me with an almost childlike curiosity.

"Well," he said, tapping his fingers together, "that was quite the show so do you still want to proceed."

"If you do, you will be facing a situation that is far worse than before. You won’t even leave a fragment of soul to be reincarnated.."

I gasped trying to pull my mind and closed my eyes not bothering to answer.

Honestly, the experience was quite scary. It wasn’t painful at all but seeing your existence disappearing out of nowhere without a shred of pain.

If this wasn’t scary, then what is scary.

When I felt the semblance of sanity returning to me, I opened my eyes glancing at the blank Observer face on which, unlike the game, portrayed a raw intention perceivable only if you look closely.

It was none other than hope.

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Despite his joking nature, he had been waiting...waiting for someone.Somone to inherit the pain, the sadness, the vast emptiness that goes along this place.

Someone who can understand the sacrifices and wrath of the existence of people involved in this from the past.

Slapping my cheek, I rose up unsteadily. I faltered a bit but I managed to get up myself and spoke.

"I am prepared to inherit this."

"What?Did that not scare you!"

"It scares the shit out of me and I want to run but running away is never the solution is it?So now tell me, what do I need to become worthy?"I asked.

"You.."The Observed spoke and then shook his head.

"I like your courage."

The Observer snapped his fingers with a sharp click, and instantly, the void around us began to shift. The air trembled, and a low hum reverberated through the expanse as the floating blocks suspended in the ether started to move.

The black and white fragments, like celestial pieces of a puzzle, drifted toward one another, aligning in perfect harmony. They spun, rotated, and clicked together with precision, forming a vast chessboard that stretched endlessly in every direction. The surface gleamed with a mirror-like sheen, reflecting faint constellations above and below.

Each block locked into place with a soft chime, the sound resonating like the tolling of distant bells. As the board assembled, figures began to rise from its surface—chess pieces of immense size, each one carved with intricate detail.

The white pieces stood tall, sculpted from a glowing marble-like material that seemed to pulse with a faint inner light. Their forms exuded elegance, as if each pawn, rook, knight, and queen were guardians of an ancient, forgotten kingdom.

The black pieces, by contrast, emerged in stark obsidian, their edges razor-sharp and reflecting a menacing darkness. Faint wisps of shadow curled around them, as though the very air shied away from their presence.

I watched, my breath caught in my throat, as the pieces took their positions on the board with deliberate grace, standing tall like soldiers awaiting battle. The entire transformation was both hauntingly beautiful and unnervingly grand, a spectacle that defied logic and filled the space with a tension so thick it felt alive.

As I took in the breathtaking sight, I became aware of the Observer sliding beside me, his steps eerily silent. His face, usually playful, bore a peculiar mix of amusement and curiosity as he leaned toward me.

"White or Black?" he asked softly, his voice carrying a weight that suggested this was more than just a game.

Knowing exactly what the test demanded, I didn’t hesitate. "Black."

The Observer nodded, his expression betraying a fleeting flicker of approval, before his usual smirk returned. With a sharp clap of his hands, the world shifted again.

The ground beneath me vanished in a rush of wind, and I felt my body pulled away, weightless for a moment, before I was placed firmly onto a massive black throne at the back of the chessboard. The obsidian chair was cold to the touch, yet it fit me perfectly, as if it had been waiting for me all along.

Opposite me, across the gleaming battlefield, the Observer appeared, his every movement precise and deliberate. He now sat upon an immaculate white throne adorned with swirling golden patterns that seemed to move like flowing rivers of light. Despite his usual mischievous demeanor, his presence now carried an aura of regal authority.

He leaned forward slightly, resting one hand on the arm of his throne while the other gestured toward the board with a sleek silver stick. His sharp eyes, filled with both challenge and amusement, met mine.

"So," he said, his tone light yet commanding, "let’s begin the game of gentlemen."

His voice echoed across the vast board as he smiled faintly, the corners of his lips curving upward into a grin that hinted at both danger and delight.

"The chess…" he continued. "Defeat me, and this place is yours."

The Observer raised his stick and pointed it at me, his smirk widening. "So, are you ready?"

In response, I leaned back into my throne, allowing a devilish grin to spread across my face. The tension in the room seemed to spike, and for the briefest moment, the Observer’s smile faltered, his brow twitching as though he’d glimpsed something unexpected—something darker in me than he’d anticipated.

"Absolutely," I said, my voice steady and brimming with confidence.

The Observer’s grin returned, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Interesting," he murmured, almost to himself. Then he straightened in his chair, his posture regal, his voice booming as he declared:

"Let the game begin."

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