The Amber Sword V2C123

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Chapter 123: The Watcher in the Shadows Part 1

A sharp laugh pierced through the hollow silence of the woodland like the first crack of dawn breaking an endless night.

But where had this third presence come from? Both Brandon and the Divine Messenger of Earth glanced upward simultaneously—only to discover a small figure perched on a branch above them. She was slight, no older than fourteen or fifteen, with twin golden braids that curled ever so slightly at their ends. Her round, cherubic face rested in one hand as she leaned forward, her emerald-green eyes shimmering like still waters brimming with curiosity—and perhaps mischief. She wore the traditional leather garb of many adventurers, idly swinging her boot-clad feet back and forth.

"Sir Brandon, do you require assistance?" the girl asked sweetly, one hand cradling her cheek as her lips curled into an impish grin.

"Who are you?" Brandon blinked, caught off guard. There was something oddly familiar about her presence, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. His eyes narrowed as he studied her more closely, trying to discern the source of this strange sense of recognition.

"Aloz," she replied simply.

"Aloz?"

Before another word could be exchanged, the Divine Messenger of Earth let out a low growl, interrupting the moment. It clearly resented this uninvited guest but hesitated to act, sensing a faint yet dangerous aura emanating from her. Its countless compound eyes flickered as it assessed the intruder, its massive body sinking slightly into a defensive posture.

This subtle shift did not escape Brandon’s notice.

"How rude, interrupting our conversation—" the girl muttered under her breath before leaping down from the tree. In an instant, a greatsword materialized in her grasp. Without preamble, she brought the blade down in a single fluid motion. Ackerman—the Divine Messenger—howled and reared back, its stony forelimbs crossing to meet the blow. But with a brittle crack, three layers of conjured rock shields shattered like glass beneath the sword's edge. The hardened outer layer of its limbs splintered apart, and bronze-colored ichor spurted from the cracks.

Yet the momentum of the strike did not falter. The blade carved through the gap, severing Ackerman’s forelimbs before striking its chest. With a thunderous crash, the creature was sent flying, crashing into the underbrush.

For a moment, Brandon stood frozen, utterly dumbfounded. The entire sequence had unfolded in the blink of an eye, yet the girl now landed gracefully on the ground as if nothing extraordinary had occurred. Moments ago, Ackerman had been a fearsome adversary; now, it lay broken and lifeless. Or rather…was that truly the Divine Messenger of Earth? It seemed weaker than even the lowest-tier gray wolves outside Buchi.

"You are…" Brandon began, but his words trailed off as the girl casually flung the greatsword toward the fallen Divine Messenger like tossing aside a toothpick. Another deafening explosion rocked the forest, followed by an eerie silence.

"…"

"Tsk tsk, such a disobedient little kitten. Perhaps it needs better discipline to learn its place," the girl said lightly, dusting off her hands. Turning back to Brandon, she tilted her head upward, her small stature forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze. "Was there something you wished to ask, Sir Brandon?" Her golden eyebrows arched playfully.

"Uh…no, I have matters to attend to. Excuse me." 

Brandon wasn’t a fool. Though it appeared he’d been robbed of his quarry, he knew full well that he lacked the strength to defeat the Divine Messenger himself. Reversing the order of events might have made sense. Moreover, this girl exuded danger—a volatile force reminiscent of the most unhinged NPCs from past games. While such characters often harbored world-altering hidden quests, prudence dictated avoiding trouble whenever possible.

After all, in games, failure meant starting over. Here, there were no second chances. So, without further ado, Brandon bid farewell, eager to avoid courting disaster.

Unfortunately, trouble seemed intent on finding him.

"Wait," the girl called out, reaching for the hem of his cloak as he turned to leave. With a sharp rip, she found herself holding half of his leather armor. Startled, she stuck out her tongue. "Oops, guess I pulled too hard…"

Resigned, Brandon tore off the remaining piece and dropped it to the ground. Sighing deeply, he turned back to face her. "Do I know you, Lady Aloz?"

"Of course! You even accepted my precious gift," she chirped.

"Hold on—I don’t understand. What gift?"

Aloz pointed toward his satchel.

"You mean…"

The girl nodded.

Brandon’s expression darkened. The golden apple hadn’t appeared in his bag by chance. He’d suspected foul play all along, though he’d lacked a suspect. At times, he’d even entertained suspicions about Roma’s enigmatic aunt, especially after meeting Scholar Tullamane. Yet never in his wildest imaginings had he considered someone like…this girl?

He studied her, unable to reconcile her doll-like innocence with the gravity of her actions. "Do you know what that is?"

"The Fairy's Apple—isn't it rare?"

Precisely.

"So you were there that day?" Brandon pressed.

"Oh dear, how hurtful, Sir Brandon! Of course I know that place—the Valley of Saints. Isn’t that what you humans call the Legacy of Kings?"

Her use of “you humans” didn’t escape Brandon’s notice. Still, her words rang true. During his time in the Valley of Saints, he hadn’t known the apple was in his possession. Thus, her claim carried significant weight.

"And why give it to me?" Brandon retrieved the gleaming fruit from his satchel, holding it by its stem as he voiced the question that had plagued him. The Golden Apple was no ordinary relic; born from the fruits of the Golden Tree and imbued with the essence of the River of Fate, it possessed the power to alter destinies. "I don’t recall knowing you, Lady Aloz."

The diminutive girl giggled, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons. "There’s always a reason, silly. Consider it a token of gratitude."

"Gratitude?"

Aloz nodded again.

Brandon groaned inwardly. "Why does this feel like an impending catastrophe?"

"Because it is!" she chirped cheerfully. "That’s precisely why I’m thanking you, Sir Brandon."

"So saving me just now was also part of your gratitude?" Brandon mused aloud, trying to piece together the nature of this supposed calamity. He wracked his brain but couldn’t think of anything particularly nefarious he’d done recently. Aloz didn’t seem deceitful—or at least, not malicious enough to toy with him using a Golden Apple.

A Golden Apple as thanks? Whatever trouble awaited him must be monumental indeed. A shadow of unease settled over him.

"Not exactly," Aloz said, shaking her head. Her twin braids bounced animatedly.

Brandon stared at her, waiting.

"There’s a question I want to ask you—but I haven’t decided whether to ask it or not. Asking yields the joy of answers, while refraining preserves the thrill of speculation. Such a dilemma! But if that naughty kitten had killed you, I’d lose one of those pleasures entirely." She pouted theatrically. "No, no, I can’t allow that."

"So what then?" Brandon prompted.

"I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided to ask you this question—"

Ackerman, you died in vain. Brandon couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the Divine Messenger. This line of reasoning sounded eerily similar to the irrational logic of the dragons scattered across Vonder Continent—those who thrived on chaos and whimsy.

Still, he ventured, "If you ask, won’t you forfeit the pleasure of guessing?"

"Didn’t I say? I’ve changed my mind."

"Fine. Ask away."

Aloz gestured toward the apple in his hand.

"Something related to this?" Brandon blinked in surprise.

"Surely Sir Brandon understands its value—the Fairy’s Apple. Don’t you wish to consume it?" 

Brandon shook his head. His intentions were clear. However, the girl’s demeanor raised suspicions. Was this a counterfeit? Or did it conceal some other trap? Brandon had long since learned that fortune rarely fell from the sky without strings attached.

"Do you fear I’ve deceived you? Rest assured, I haven’t poisoned it—though I may have added something…interesting." The petite girl smirked.

Cold sweat trickled down Brandon’s spine. Thank the stars he’d remained cautious. "What kind of ‘interesting’ thing?" he asked warily.

Aloz ignored the question, instead darting through the bushes to the corpse of the Divine Messenger. Grabbing it by a hind leg, she dragged the massive beast out with ease, treating it like a sack of discarded rags. After rummaging around its remains, she extracted a bow and muttered to herself, "Strange, the magic energy is draining rapidly."

"For pity’s sake, stop touching the corpse!" Brandon thought desperately, silently cursing. Magic energy loss upon death was a mechanic ingrained in the old game systems. When a magical item’s owner perished, the connection between spirit and artifact would fade, causing the magic within to dissipate and potentially damaging the equipment. Loot drops became a gamble—a roll of the dice determined how much you could salvage.

Or, as gamers would say—it depended on how cursed your hands were.

Brandon had earned a reputation as the unluckiest looter in his guild. And yet, compared to his senior, he was practically blessed. His bad luck operated within system parameters, whereas hers transcended them entirely. Time and again, her attempts to loot corpses resulted in catastrophic losses—all magic-infused items vanishing without a trace. While Brandon’s misfortune came with self-awareness, his senior reveled in her futile quest to defy fate itself.

As the saying goes, destiny cannot be conquered, and her endeavors ended in ignominious failure.

But today, Brandon bore witness to another contender for the title of “Cursed Hands.” From the body of a level 55 boss in a perfect storyline — practically the corpse of a boss defeated with a perfect evaluation despite being 30 levels higher — what should have yielded legendary gear instead produced… a brass-grade shale longbow. And according to Ackerman’s official drop list, only one bow existed.

The Shale Longbow.

"You gotta be kidding me. Where’s my Nature’s Force…" Brandon lamented internally, feeling the sting of betrayal.

Project Update: Volume 2 is now fully translated! However, as I'm currently focusing on stacking chapters for Volume 3, the release of the remaining chapters in Volume 2 will slow down a bit.
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