Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V2C163

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Chapter 163: The Gambler's Roulette, Part 1

The slender rapier pierced through the skull’s brow with a sharp click, and the last of the Soul Puppets collapsed lifelessly to the ground. Yuta, the fiery-haired mercenary commander, stood there with her sword in hand, breathing heavily as she surveyed the carnage around her. Her emerald-green eyes reflected the grim scene: scattered bones and fallen mercenaries littered the battlefield. The fight was over, though at great cost. They had repelled the attackers.

Yuta exhaled deeply, sheathing her blade into its black leather-wrapped scabbard.

“Commander!” a voice called from behind her. She turned to see a young man hurrying toward her through the crowd.

The mercenary leader watched him approach but raised a hand to cut him off before he could speak. “No need to explain. Leave some men to tend to the wounded. Everyone else, move out with me. We’ve wasted enough time already—we must secure the western gate before the undead horde arrives.”

“Wait,” the youth gasped, struggling to catch his breath.

“What is it?” Yuta frowned.

“It’s too late,” he blurted. “While we were fighting those monsters earlier, ‘Rat’ spotted a magical beacon flare up in the south. commander, it’s over. The undead have already reached the city. If we go now, we’ll be facing an endless tide of them—”

Yuta stopped in her tracks, fixing him with a hard stare. “What else did ‘Rat’ say?”

“He said… our only choice now is to retreat. Break north and abandon Cold Fir City. If the undead breach the walls, we’re all dead here.”

“And what about everyone else?” Yuta shot back.

“Commander, staying here won’t change anything!” the young man pleaded. “Why should we die for people like them?”

“Damn it.” Yuta slammed her fist against the wall. “Prepare our forces on-site. Split into three squads—Owl, Gray Wolf, and Brown Bear—and advance along the nearest streets. If we can’t stop them from entering Cold Fir City, then we’ll intercept them close by.”

“Commander, you’re insane!” someone shouted. “We barely have three hundred fighters. Those bone armies are in the thousands! Without the walls, we don’t stand a chance!”

Yuta pressed a hand to her chest, gritting her teeth. “Even if we can’t hold them, we still have to try. Do you want me to break my word?”

“Commander…” The youth hesitated.

“Well? Move out!”

“But… is it really worth it—for nobles?” The young man took a deep breath. “That young lord’s one of them too, isn’t he? He’s helping us because he has a grudge against Grudin. At the end of the day, they’re all the same. Why should we fight for people like that?”

The messenger clenched his fists and shouted at her, “Commander, your sister, your parents—they all died at the hands of those damned nobles! Most of our brothers joined because they trusted you, respected you. Why should we throw our lives away for scum like them? Let them tear each other apart!”

Yuta froze.

She sighed, lifting her head to respond—but just then, a thunderous boom echoed from the direction of Cold Fir Keep. Everyone turned to see a brilliant white light ascend into the darkened sky—a magical beacon.

The pure column of light pierced the night, cutting through the oppressive darkness. Against the heavy backdrop, it shone immaculately, reminiscent of the first tear shed by Mother Marsha in the creation myths of Cruzean—a tear that became the world’s primordial light.

In that moment, Yuta and her aide both stood transfixed, their eyes reflecting the radiant glow. They watched as the light climbed higher, exploding into a series of glowing runes used for battlefield communication. The message lingered in the sky, refusing to fade.

Yuta tilted her face upward, her green eyes gleaming with resolve.

“Grudin is dead,” she murmured softly. “Our lord requests an immediate response.”

“Our… lord?” The youth stared at her, stunned.

Yuta lowered her head, offering him a faint smile. “If Clenxia dared choose this path, why shouldn’t I? Grudin’s death gives me an answer. From this point forward, that young noble is the one I’ll follow.” She shook her head slightly, her smile tinged with regret. “Though unfortunately, we may not have much time left.”

“But…”

“Enough. Can we send a reply?”

The youth shook his head. “Those skeletal wizards have silenced the entire street with black magic. Aside from light and dark elements, no other magic can penetrate. And none of us are wizards or clerics; even our strongest elementalists are only iron-ranked. We can’t cast any spells right now.”

“What about signal arrows?”

“‘Rat’ said those rely on elemental ignition too.”

Yuta clenched her jaw, her gaze sweeping across the street. “Then we’ll use our own methods to buy our lord some time.”

“Commander?”

But her expression had hardened. After a brief pause, she lifted her head, turned around, and drew her rapier, slicing it sharply to the right. “Listen up, everyone!”

The street fell silent, save for Yuta’s commanding voice echoing through the air. Every mercenary paused, instinctively turning their attention to their leader.

“I asked for a show of courage, and someone answered nobly. But now we’ve broken our promise. Fortunately, we still have a chance to make amends. Therefore, I order you—all of you—to push forward. Hold these cursed skeletons here—or let them trample over our corpses.”

For a moment, no one spoke. All eyes were fixed on Yuta.

“Answer me—are there cowards among my ranks?”

“No cowards!” the mercenaries roared, raising their weapons high.

The young man stared at Yuta, mouth agape, as if wanting to protest. But the mercenary commander cut him off firmly. “Don’t bother. Once I give an order, I never change my mind.”

“But commander, why risk everything for a noble?”

Yuta chuckled softly.

She leaned down, patting the youth’s cheek. “I know nobles better than you, kid. If that young man were truly one of them, he wouldn’t have killed Grudin—it’s their unspoken rule. For centuries, no one has dared break it.”

She straightened, gazing into the darkened night.

“But whoever he is, as of this moment, our debt is settled.”

The youth was momentarily speechless.

---

At the southern gate, the fierce battle raged on. Under the leadership of the Firelands Warband commander, the mercenaries fought relentlessly, employing tactics that disregarded losses entirely. Wave after wave of skeletal soldiers surged forward like an unstoppable tide, locked in a brutal tug-of-war with the defenders.

The war dragged on endlessly, grinding down every fighter. Bones stretched endlessly across the battlefield, human and undead casualties piling up in mountains. Yet despite the staggering cost, the line held precariously along the ruined wall.

Thankfully, the breach in the wall spanned only ten meters, allowing the iron-ranked mercenaries to barely contain the overwhelming numbers of undead. Understanding this advantage, the mercenaries poured rivers of blood into reinforcing the defenses around the breach, knowing full well the stakes.

It was no longer a battle—it was a meat grinder devoid of tactical elegance. Both sides’ commanders acted as silent reapers, feeding countless lives into that narrow stretch of blood-soaked earth. For Madara’s side, skeletal wizards summoned waves of undead with cold efficiency, treating their creations like expendable chips pushed recklessly onto the table.

And therein lay the cruelest blow to the human spirit.

“Crossbowmen, take positions!”

“Switch to blunt-tipped bolts!”

Some mercenary commanders doubled as messengers, watching seasoned warriors uncork vials of holy water and douse bundles of arrows. Such extravagance would rarely be seen in ordinary battles, and the sight stung bitterly.

Row after row of crossbowmen raised their quadruple-limbed bows, aimed, and fired. A shrill whistle tore through the air as invisible walls of force swept through the skeletal ranks, sending rows of bones collapsing into ash under flashes of white light.

Frein stood atop a mound of bones, resting his sword casually on his shoulder. With cold efficiency, he rotated his second squad into position, relieving the exhausted first squad. He barked orders for a smaller band of mercenaries to carry the wounded off the battlements. To him, this battle felt endless, much like the wars he’d endured in Karasu.

Frein commanded calmly, fully aware of what both Madara and his own forces could achieve.

Glancing back, he raised his eyes to the flashing beacon in the darkened sky. A faint smile crossed his lips. “Nobles killing nobles—worth the price of admission, I suppose. Still, it’s rare to see them resort to anything beyond conspiracies, poisons, or assassinations. That young man truly is barbaric.”

“Nobles will do anything,” his second-in-command muttered beside him.

Frein glanced at him.

“You don’t understand,” he said simply. Then, after a pause: “How much longer?”

“Half an hour,” the second replied immediately.

Frein waved dismissively. “Go. Raise our banner higher. After we repel this assault, the skeletal wizards will step in. That man gave me an answer—I’ll give him one in return.”

“Until the Dawn approaches…” the Firelands Warband leader murmured, gazing at the horizon. “Almost here.”

The second-in-command hesitated, puzzled.

But Frein smiled faintly. “This is also part of fulfilling his first order. When the boss gives a command, we obey without question.”

“The boss?”

“For now, let’s assume so.” Frein glanced back at the battlefield, his expression unreadable.

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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