Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V2C152

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Chapter 152: The Dawn Part 6

A sharp clang rang out as the battle axe clashed with the longsword. Man and undead collided head-on before recoiling instantly. Kabirus stumbled back several steps, slamming the haft of its war axe into the stone pavement to steady itself. Meanwhile, Brandon crashed straight into the crowd behind him.

“What manner of technique is this?” The towering skeleton leaned back to regain its balance, its voice a mix of shock and fury. Though it couldn’t immediately grasp how Brandon had anticipated its attack, it began to suspect the truth.

“The kind that ends your life,” Brandon replied coldly. Seizing the moment of Kabirus’s confusion, he rose swiftly, his sword flashing like a streak of light as he lunged forward. The Detection skill had proven far more effective than he’d expected, though in hindsight, it was exactly what he’d hoped for—a true god-tier ability worthy of the name.

To the onlookers, Brandon’s speed seemed blinding, a blur of motion separating light from shadow. But to Kabirus, it appeared agonizingly slow, like a turtle crawling across the battlefield. At the last instant, it twisted its ribcage aside, pulling its body back to deliver a devastating counterstrike.

The white lines extending from Kabirus’s form shifted abruptly, weaving an entirely new web of possibilities.

“My lord!”

The Silver Elf princess glanced over her shoulder just in time to witness the scene unfold.

Brandon himself realized his strike would miss—

But then, something miraculous happened.

A fiery figure erupted into view, blazing across everyone’s line of sight.

With a thunderous clang, Halberd of Thunder—Logos materialized between the two combatants, intercepting Kabirus’s darkened war axe. All eyes were drawn to the cascade of crimson hair whipping through the night air. Cinnabar leaned back slightly but held her ground, gripping the halberd’s shaft firmly.

Her amber eyes gleamed with icy calm.

On the other side, another deafening crash echoed—

Time seemed to freeze. Brandon’s sword struck true, piercing Kabirus’s right chest. The force of Strength Surge surged through the skeletal frame, creating a turbulent vortex within the hollow cavity of its brass armor. Air swirled violently, tearing through the fragile barrier of ribs. A series of cracks resounded as Kabirus felt at least three of its ribs shatter.

With a guttural roar, it was hurled backward.

“This… isn’t possible.”

The thought simultaneously took root in the minds of Brandon, Kabirus, and even the distant Silver Elf princess who watched the exchange unfold.

How could this be? Each of them had been certain Brandon’s strike would miss. Kabirus had clearly sidestepped the blow, yet when the sword connected—every single one of them noticed:

Kabirus’s body remained in its original position.

An illusion?

But Brandon had instinctively poured all his strength into the downward swing. A wave of frost spread along the blade, forming a radiant frost curtain that propelled Kabirus backward. Ice-laden winds accompanied the skeletal general as it crashed heavily onto the ground, its brass armor clanging loudly as it tumbled several times before smashing through a wall and coming to a halt.

A thunderous boom reverberated through the air, followed by a cloud of dust.

Snap.

The longsword cracked, then shattered into fragments, scattering across the ground.

Brandon stood clutching the bare hilt, momentarily forgetting to press his attack. That hadn’t been an illusion—his experience at level 130 ensured he wouldn’t make such a ludicrous error in a low-level skirmish. Could he have misjudged? Was it possible for someone at his level to miscalculate so grievously?

He tossed the hilt aside and casually plucked another sword from the corpse of a nearby noble soldier. Embarrassingly, these mundane blades couldn’t withstand his gold-rank strength. He found himself yearning for Lustrous Stinger, a magical weapon that, though weaker, would at least endure his power.

Kabirus staggered to its feet amidst the rubble. The earlier blow hadn’t been fatal, but it left the undead general in no small discomfort. Though Brandon had only just entered the threshold of the gold rank, his Strength Surge still packed the punch of a lower-tier gold-rank warrior. Few could afford to take such a strike directly to their chest.

Yet Kabirus pressed a hand to the wound on its breastplate, too preoccupied to complain. In its vision, two figures—one crimson, one black—were closing in. The tactic was sound, but painfully slow.

Kabirus gritted its teeth, retreating a step while raising its war axe. With all its might, it swung forward. Two ear-splitting metallic shrieks pierced the battlefield in quick succession.

The mercenaries reflexively covered their ears.

Strength Surge.

Brandon hadn’t anticipated the skeletal general possessing this ability. By the time he reacted, Cinnabar had already been sent flying, halberd and all. A surge of overwhelming force coursed through his hands, sending him sprawling backward. His newly acquired mundane sword disintegrated alongside Kabirus’s war axe, scattering shards of metal everywhere.

Brandon winced, hastily shielding his face as fragments peppered his skin and shredded his clothing. But what unsettled him wasn’t the pain—it was the confusion: Cinnabar had been hurled away, yet he, despite being weaker, had only fallen and lost his weapon.

Did Kabirus do it deliberately?

A flicker of suspicion crossed Brandon’s mind as he spotted the towering skeleton discard its broken axe. In its bony claws gleamed the unmistakable glint of a magical weapon.

The undead general sneered, tightening its grip on a blood-red spear. It lunged forward, the weapon trailing a scarlet mist, striking toward Brandon’s shoulder like a taut crimson thread.

Magical weapon.

Too fast. Falling backward, Brandon had no way to evade. Kabirus drove the spear downward with all its might, already imagining the young man’s agonized screams. But in the next instant—

It struck nothing.

The massive skeleton reflexively looked up.

Brandon, his left hand gripping his right wrist, aimed the silver Wind Sovereign Ring at the ground, smirking victoriously mid-air.

In truth, he’d suspected Kabirus’s primary weapon wasn’t the war axe the moment he realized it lacked magical properties. He’d been waiting for the undead general to reveal its true fangs. When the spear approached, Brandon activated Wind Blast at the precise moment, using the recoil to propel himself backward. While the silver-tier force couldn’t harm him, it allowed him to alter his trajectory instantly.

Just like that, the tide turned.

Kabirus raised its head to see Brandon draw a dagger from his boot, spin mid-air, and bring the blade down with the momentum of his descent.

Though startled and enraged, the towering skeleton reacted swiftly, dodging and preparing to counterattack. But once again, the inexplicable occurred.

Kabirus felt itself dodge cleanly, yet the dagger struck its bare skull with unerring precision.

“How is this possible?”

Before it could roar in outrage, another deafening crash drowned out its voice. The Lord of Darkness was sent flying once more.

Brandon rolled gracefully upon landing, springing forward to press his advantage. Rather than dwell on the strange sensation, he wisely abandoned Strength Surge to preserve his weapon.

Kabirus roared in frustration as it rolled aside, scrambling to retaliate. Yet despite its evasive maneuvers, the dagger continued to find its mark.

What followed was a scene etched into the memories of everyone present:

The young noble known as Viscount Stingham—whom Kabirus claimed was the true leader of Copper Dragon Retto and his men—wielded his dagger with ruthless precision. Each strike, left then right, landed effortlessly, hurling the towering skeleton across the battlefield.

It was less a battle and more a father disciplining his child. Was this truly the legendary Deathbringer Kabirus, said to possess mid-gold-rank strength? Or was the young man secretly a Temple Knight in disguise?

A twenty-year-old Temple Knight?

Even the mercenaries and noble soldiers gawked in disbelief. By Marsha’s grace, who—or what—was this prodigy?

Overwhelmed by Brandon’s terrifying display, Grudin’s private forces crumbled completely. Against a gold-rank opponent, numbers might’ve sufficed to limit their losses. But against someone who had awakened elemental affinity?

Such beings transcended humanity.

Facing such an entity, they were little more than cannon fodder meant to delay the inevitable. No one wished to fight a hopeless war, least of all these nobles driven by wealth and ambition.

After delivering his final slash, Brandon’s dagger finally shattered. Watching Kabirus crash into a building like a sack of sand, he exhaled deeply and discarded the hilt.

He’d used minimal force, yet the blade had endured only ten strikes.

For now, however, he didn’t dwell on the matter. Instead, he marveled at the peculiar sensation coursing through him. If one or two instances could be dismissed as illusions, what about ten?

The troubling part was that every single strike—whether observed by him, Kabirus, or even Cinnabar—had appeared destined to miss. Yet each blow had landed squarely on the skeleton’s frame.

What was going on?

As Brandon prepared to retrieve another sword, a furious bellow erupted from the smoke-filled ruins ahead:

“You accursed wretch! This is elemental power! What kind of element is this?”

Kabirus’s anguished roar echoed across the battlefield.

Brandon paused, momentarily taken aback.

Elemental power?

…

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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