Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C47

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Chapter 47: The Silver Mine, Part 8

“Who exactly is that guy?”

After Brandon had left, the youths stood huddled together, whispering among themselves. Mahler was the first to speak—since last night, he had been the most vocal in his opposition to dealing with the mysterious stranger. But now, after Brandon had led them to a rich vein of and paid them an enormous sum for the , even Mahler could not deny that associating with the man had its advantages.

Still, Joka, who had been the first to approach Brandon, felt uneasy. was no small amount, and it had come far too easily. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this whole affair didn’t sit right.

He turned his gaze toward , the frail yet perceptive boy who had long since become the de facto leader of their little band—not by title, but by quiet authority. Koven was the one who healed their wounds with magic when they bled from mining accidents or fights. His spells were never as dramatic as the legends claimed, but they worked better than any or herb.

In truth, Koven had always held sway over the group, though Mahler often resented it. Joka knew that Mahler’s grumbling wasn’t about Koven’s leadership—it was about pride, about being stripped of the position he once held.

Koven merely shook his head. “There’s nothing more to it. We should keep digging. This has nothing to do with us.”

No sooner had he spoken than a cry rang out from deep within the mine pit.

It came from the direction where one of their own had been working. All heads turned sharply, eyes narrowing with unease. The mines were full of shadowy tales—stories no one could prove, yet no one dared to dismiss. In a place like this, accidents could happen at any moment… and none of them wanted to be the next.

Then, suddenly, a boy ran out, breathless and wide-eyed.

“Come here! You have to see this!” he called.

“What is it?” Koven asked, stepping forward.

“Just come and see for yourself,” the boy said, voice trembling. “I don’t know what it is—”

The others exchanged glances before following him. As they reached the spot, they froze.

Behind a , clearly exposed by the boy’s work, a silver edge gleamed from the broken rock face. It was not stone, nor any natural ore. It looked like metal—but not of this world.

The boy held up his pickaxe, showing the others the damage. The tip had been cleanly sliced off, leaving a mirror-smooth cut.

“This thing did it?” Koven muttered, frowning at the strange quality of the mark.

The boy nodded. “It was a sword. That sharp.”

Mahler, ever eager to fill the silence, spoke next. “A sword like that must belong to the denizens of the lower realms. I’ve heard stories—there are creatures beneath our feet, and they wield weapons like these.”

“But how would a weapon from the underworld end up here?” someone countered.

“Easy enough,” Mahler shot back. “Didn’t monsters come up before? Why not a blade?”

“Because we dug into the passage,” Joka snapped. “But there was no passage here before we started. And this sword was buried deep in the rock. That doesn’t add up.”

At least, he agreed with Mahler on the sword part.

Before Mahler could argue further, Koven raised a hand. “Enough. Let’s dig it out and see for ourselves.”

“Dig it out?” the girl hesitated. “What use is it to us? Koven, I feel uneasy. Maybe we should just leave it be.”

The boy hesitated, but then his eyes caught a glint of silver behind the fractured stone. Curiosity stirred, rising stronger than fear. Maybe Mahler wasn’t wrong, he thought. Maybe it really was something left behind by the dwellers of the underground. His gaze shifted to the broken pickaxe, its tip sheared clean off, the cut smooth as glass. A sword that sharp… out in the world, it would fetch a fortune.

“Dig,” he said.

With a nod from the rest, the youths set to work. Youth, after all, was ruled by wonder more than caution.

---

Meanwhile, as Koven, Mahler, and Joka began unearthing the strange weapon hidden beneath the rock, chaos was unfolding elsewhere in the mine.

A terrifying rumor had spread among the workers—someone had seen a monster in the lower levels. What had begun as a whisper quickly became a certainty, and soon, the overseers had no choice but to send a squad of guards down to investigate.

They never returned.

Less than half an hour later, a report was placed upon the desk of , who was in charge of the mine. In his early thirties and brimming with ambition, Orkins had secured this post through a combination of favoritism and careful maneuvering—especially through the influence of , wife of .

Orkins had arrived at with high hopes. To serve under such a powerful noble was an honor, and if he could prove himself here, he might one day join the Earl’s inner circle.

Everything had seemed so orderly—until this morning.

The report shattered whatever illusions he still clung to. It described the sighting of a monstrous spider, larger than a man's head. A normal spider could not grow that big. Only a creature of the underworld could.

Sweat beaded on Orkins’ forehead. He remembered the events of over a decade ago, when the mine had been nearly lost to the . If the workers had once again breached the boundary between worlds, the consequences could be catastrophic.

His confidence crumbled. He checked the reports again, each one worse than the last. When word came that an entire guard unit had vanished into the depths, Orkins knew his time had run out.

He had no real power—only the illusion of it. He had come here expecting a quiet posting, a way to impress the Earl and secure a future. Instead, he had stumbled into a nightmare.

As entered the office, he found Orkins slumped in his chair, pale and shaking.

Kulan had been a master swordsman for thirty years, and one of the most trusted men in Earl Jandel’s service. Seeing the younger man in such a state only deepened his contempt.

He cleared his throat, and Orkins jolted upright.

Orkins recognized the man well—he was the aging deputy executioner, head of the , and the true military commander of the mine. Unlike Orkins, who had arrived for prestige, Kulan had come for duty.

Orkins may have cursed the old man under his breath more times than he could count, calling him a "wretched old fool" in the privacy of his own thoughts, but outwardly, he knew better than to show anything less than proper deference. And now, with the situation spiraling out of control, the old man might just be his only hope.

Desperation clawing at his throat like a drowning man clutching at a lifeline, Orkins blurted, "Sir Kulan, thank the stars you’ve arrived. We’re in grave trouble."

"How grave?" Kulan asked, his tone laced with disdain.

Orkins didn’t dare take offense, not now. He quickly recounted the entire situation, sparing no detail. But Kulan, for his part, already knew most of it. In fact, the elder had been silently fuming long before setting foot here. That insufferable whelp had kept the truth from him until the situation became impossible to conceal. If Kulan had known sooner, perhaps his own soldiers wouldn’t have perished needlessly.

Though seething with frustration, Kulan understood the gravity of the matter and forced himself to set aside his anger. With icy calm, he asked, "And what do youintend to do about this?"

Orkins hesitated, knowing full well that Kulan was seizing the opportunity to needle him. He couldn’t deny that his handling of the situation had been less than commendable. Smiling weakly, he stammered, "Well… we’re still assessing the situation below, but I fear the miners may riot. I thought to send the Guard Unit down to maintain order—"

He faltered mid-sentence as Kulan’s face darkened further, swallowing hard. "That is to say… we’ll need some manpower, at the very least…"

Kulan cut him off with a sharp, derisive snort. "Foolishness. If you send the Guard Unit down there, the miners will know something is amiss. They’ll panic faster than you can blink. There are over a thousand miners in that mine, and barely a hundred guards in your unit. Do you truly believe such a paltry force can hold them in check? Have you lost your wits entirely?"

Orkins felt his cheeks burn under the blistering rebuke, but his thick skin saved him from complete mortification. Chuckling nervously, he replied, "Then what would you suggest?"

"I’ll go down myself," Kulan said, his voice firm as he adjusted the grip on his sword hilt. "The creatures lurking beneath the may be troublesome, but they won’t stop me. I’ll assess the severity of the situation personally."

"Good, good, very good," Orkins stammered, repeating the word three times in quick succession. Though the crisis was far from resolved, the mere fact that Kulan was willing to intervene brought him a measure of relief.

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