Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V2C156

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Chapter 156: The Dawn Part 10

A blinding flash pierced through the barrier of Soul Energy, shaking the very fabric of space. Thunder roared like an avalanche, and a ring of electricity swept outward in all directions—

A crackling sound of current filled the air. Brandon, who had been silently staring down the undead lord Kabirus, suddenly felt a strange sensation. He glanced down to see the fine hairs on his wool coat standing on end. Looking up again, arcs of blue-white electricity danced across every surface—his black coat, the streets, the buildings, and even the ruins. Sparks leapt along any conductive material, popping and sizzling with deafening bursts.

Brandon blinked, instinctively sensing something was amiss.

He turned his head, but the fog ahead remained eerily still. This unnatural silence only heightened his unease. Taking a step forward, he noticed Kabirus mirroring his movement. The towering skeleton rattled as it emerged from the ruins, blocking his path. Brandon raised an eyebrow at the undead lord and asked dryly, "What? Haven't had enough yet?"

Kabirus's jaw creaked open in a silent laugh. "Care for another try?"

The young man's expression darkened. With a metallic zing, he drew Cinnabar’s sword—a weapon slightly lighter than what he was accustomed to—but even this simple motion forced Kabirus to take a cautious step back. Clearly, the undead lord feared Brandon’s unpredictable elemental power, though it remained determined to keep him pinned here.

Brandon frowned. Kabirus’s cunning exceeded his expectations, and without knowing what lay ahead, he dared not act rashly. Though he possessed the White Stag Statuette for reconnaissance, Roscoe, the necromancer lurking nearby, far surpassed him in magical expertise. Attempting such tricks in front of someone like Roscoe would likely backfire.

Why hadn’t Metissa reported in?

Brandon extended his mental connection forward, but it was as if his senses vanished into the fog, receiving no response. Just as he exhaled sharply, a familiar, weak voice finally echoed within his mind: "My lord, time is short, so I’ll be brief. There’s another undead general—very strong… cough, cough… his name is White…" It was Metissa’s voice.

But the transmission abruptly cut off.

White?

The name sent a jolt through Brandon’s mind. At the mere thought of that cold, metallic mask, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was only one commander in Enstallone’s ranks addressed by that name: White Tiamas Jyomir, one of the Four Knights of Revelation—the impartial judge. But this man was Targus’s second-in-command! Shouldn’t Targus and Madara still be battling Eruin’s southern armies further south? What were they doing here?

Even an alliance with Grudin or Jandel wouldn’t warrant sending someone of White’s caliber. What scheme were these undead plotting?

Countless thoughts raced through Brandon’s mind. The appearance of White caught him off guard, but the young man maintained an outward calm. Raising his head, he gave Kabirus a cold stare before advancing with the sword in hand. The yellow soulfire flickering in Kabirus’s eye sockets flared briefly—it seemed confused by Brandon’s sudden aggression. Yet its mission was clear: stop this youth at all costs.

Kabirus hunched its skeletal frame slightly, gripping the short spear tightly in its bony claws.

Faced with this stubborn opponent, Brandon gritted his teeth. The situation had shifted; he couldn’t afford to waste time here. His face hardened as he spoke coldly, "Kabirus, if you ever want to return to your domain in the Hills of the Dead, I’ll give you one last chance." In his urgency, Brandon didn’t hesitate to expose the truth about Kabirus’s origins.

The undead lord’s flames flickered. "You seem familiar with us?"

Brandon ignored the question, casually tossing the sword aside. The metallic clang rang out as the blade hit the ground. He then fixed his gaze on Kabirus, silent and unyielding—as though staring at an inanimate object.

Kabirus’s jaw split wide in a mocking grin. "What, young human? Are you surrendering?"

"Kabirus, you fool, be careful—" Roscoe’s voice called out from the sidelines.

"What?"

"Be careful—he’s emitting magic energy fluctuations!" The young necromancer snapped irritably.

Kabirus hesitated, glancing warily at the motionless Brandon. Suspicious of a sudden attack, it pointed a bony finger at the young man. "You mean this kid, barely twenty years old, isn’t just a golden-rank swordsman but also a wizard? Roscoe, have you lost your mind studying necromancy?" The towering skeleton’s tone dripped with mockery.

Roscoe fell silent. Even he found the idea implausible. After all, no matter how gifted, time was finite—even for the Chosen Ones. A twenty-year-old golden-rank swordsman doubling as a wizard sounded like a fairy tale. Such feats were reserved for the ancient sages of the Holy War: King of Flames Geert, Saint Orlso the Wind Sovereign, High Priest Fainzan, and Saint Erlanta. These legendary figures ruled their respective domains and commanded respect beyond measure. Even Loki, the Eternal Undying King who unified Madara with the Mercury Staff, bowed to their greatness in both power and renown.

However, neither Roscoe nor Kabirus realized they weren’t wrong—Brandon’s magic energy fluctuations weren’t those of a wizard.

They belonged to a Planeswalker.

Brandon lowered his eyelids, silently reviewing his Elemental Pool. Since first awakening it, his pool had hardly changed: ten slots for fire, eight for other elements, and still no pools for light or darkness. Gazing at this nearly crippled configuration, he sighed inwardly. With such meager resources, he lacked the strength to alter the course of events. Closing his eyes, he exhaled deeply.

There was only one option left.

At the same moment, when Kabirus saw Brandon close his eyes and stand motionless, instead of pressing the attack, it cautiously retreated a step. The psychological trauma inflicted by Brandon’s bizarre elemental power during their earlier clash ran deep. While undead lacked fear, they also avoided walking straight into punishment. Especially high-ranking undead lords like Kabirus, bound by the conservative honor of dark nobility.

"The magic energy is gathering, Kabirus," Roscoe finally interjected. The magic energy swirling around Brandon had already surpassed the limit for mid-tier wizards, rapidly approaching high-tier levels, nearing the boundary between iron rank and silver rank. Kabirus let out a series of clicking sounds from its chest cavity. "I know, I feel it too. Don’t worry—"

Indeed, a silver-rank wizard posed little threat to it.

But a golden-rank swordsman doubling as a silver-rank wizard? This sight left the undead duo momentarily speechless. Roscoe even began questioning whether confronting this young man had been a mistake. Infinite potential! Witnessing the birth of such a prodigy felt surreal.

Yet Brandon opened his eyes once more. His hazel irises were calm, radiating an aura that embraced everything rather than the icy detachment of elemental manipulation.

"Matatanians call it the phase of Dark Slumber, a time for rest and renewal," Brandon lifted his eyelids, glancing at the towering skeleton general. "If I recall correctly, the undead refer to it as Midnight Daylight—the peak hour of darkness. Am I wrong, Kabirus?"

"Huh?"

Kabirus tightened its grip on the short spear, emitting an unintelligible syllable from its chest cavity.

"Nothing," Brandon shook his head. "I merely meant that before the sun rises, the world is indeed shrouded in darkness." He raised his hand and tossed something forward—though nothing appeared to Kabirus, Brandon acted as though he’d thrown a card shimmering faintly with destiny’s glow: "But darkness works in my favor as well."

The card landed on the ground.

"Fate Card: Rubis’ Mercenaries, return to the deck, reset entry."

In an instant, the wind Elemental Pool emptied. Before Kabirus and Roscoe’s astonished gazes, twelve mercenaries materialized alongside twelve overlapping magical arrays that unfolded onto the street. The newly summoned Rubis mercenaries exchanged bewildered looks, unsure of what had transpired. Only Tiger Finch reacted quickly, immediately asking telepathically:

"My lord, what’s happening? Did you reset the deck?"

Brandon nodded.

Kabirus’s gaze swept over the mercenaries, its soulfire flickering slightly. "So you’re also a summoner, young human. To summon twelve iron-rank combatants at silver rank... I’ve never seen such a spell. You truly aren’t ordinary, Brandon—or should I say, Viscount Stingham. But—" The towering skeleton’s tone shifted, rasping and low, "Do you really think adding twelve more iron-rank fighters will change the tide of battle?"

Kabirus shook its head, chuckling silently.

But the young man seemed oblivious to its words. He already had a plan. Turning his head, his gaze settled on the wild elf sisters—

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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