Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C60

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Chapter 60: The King Beneath the Earth, Part 11

"My lord?" Cinnabar looked at Kulan, who was muttering to himself, and whispered hesitantly.

Brandon shook his head, signaling her to wait patiently. He suspected this door had appeared suddenly and might be connected to the monsters they’d encountered earlier.

Sure enough, a short while later, Kulan stopped abruptly and exclaimed, "There are words on the door!"

Everyone gathered closer, and indeed, strange patterns were etched into the black iron door. More precisely, they were characters—Dwarven script. Brandon recognized the trapezoidal symbols immediately.

"It’s Dwarven," he said.

"Dwarven?" Kulan frowned, turning back to the group. "Why is there Dwarven here? only has hill dwarves, and they don’t live underground."

"What about gray dwarves or iron dwarves?" Metissa asked.

Gray dwarves and iron dwarves were subterranean creatures. The former were close relatives of , while the latter were rumored to be descendants of runic dwarves.

But Brandon shook his head. Gray dwarves and iron dwarves used , not the trapezoidal script of surface Dwarven. Trapezoidal script was the orthodox writing system of the dwarves, while cuneiform had been invented by dark elves.

"Then who could it be?" the Silver Elf princess inquired.

Connecting this to the relics of the , Brandon suspected it might belong to a lost branch of the Silver Lineage. Among the dwarves, there were three branches of Silver Lineage: storm dwarves, runic dwarves, and fire dwarves. Excluding the fire dwarves, who resided in the elemental plane of fire, this heritage likely belonged to one of the other two groups.

But before Brandon could speak, Cinnabar tapped the massive door with her . A faint ting echoed in the darkness. She inspected the surface; it was as smooth as a mirror, without a single scratch. This proved the material was extraordinarily hard.

Frowning, she asked, "My lord, what does it say?"

"I don’t know," Brandon admitted, shaking his head.

"Young man, didn’t you just say it’s Dwarven?" Kulan raised an eyebrow skeptically. "How can you not know?"

"I only recognize the appearance of Dwarven script," Brandon thought wryly. This wasn’t , where the system automatically translated text. Here, all he could do was stare blankly.

He approached the door, placing his hand on it. "However, I suspect this is a barrier."

"A barrier? Is it magic? An illusion?" Kulan’s eyebrows shot up. "Are there others down here? Are we not alone?"

Brandon shook his head. "This isn’t wizardry. Wizards manipulate the rules of the world, but ancient barriers like this were set by Divine Folk. These barriers embody their own laws—"

Kulan struggled to grasp this, but Metissa’s eyes widened. "An ancient relic, my lord? You mean there’s a sanctuary behind this?"

"Not a sanctuary—more like a sanctum," Brandon corrected, studying the door. Sanctuaries didn’t have such small entrances. For example, could accommodate two enormous statues.

But if this was merely a storage sanctum for the relics of the Silver Lineage, it made sense.

Brandon pressed his hand against the cold iron door, closing his eyes as if sensing the weight of centuries of history emanating from it. Then he asked, "Metissa, what is the ancient heritage of the Silver Elves?"

The young elf princess paused, then shook her head. "I don’t know. I’ve never been to a sanctuary. By the time of the Holy War, the Silver Elves had already been absent from their sanctuaries for ten generations. It’s said we lost the way back—"

But Brandon shook his head. "That’s not true. The Silver Elves must have retreated to their sanctuaries. What’s the name of your sanctuary?"

"The Sacred Silver Valley."

Brandon nodded. But Cinnabar, puzzled, interjected, "My lord, shouldn’t we focus on opening this door first?"

"I’m already doing that," Brandon replied.

"Huh?"

"For an ancient barrier, the door is symbolic—an entrance. If you’re just trying to get to the other side of the tunnel, you’ll never open this door. But if you truly wish to enter, that’s another matter."

"Enter? Enter where?" Cinnabar asked, confused.

"You’ll see soon."

Closing his eyes, Brandon focused on the concept of ‘enter.’ Suddenly, everyone felt a brief moment of darkness. Before panic could set in, light flooded back—brighter than before.

It was as though they’d returned to the surface. Blinding light poured in from all directions, forcing everyone to squint. The surroundings were blindingly white, and their eyes watered slightly.

Cinnabar and the miner instinctively turned away, but the stronger Kulan and Metissa managed to steady themselves and look around. Both gasped.

The sounds around them suddenly grew louder—a deafening roar like waves crashing into their ears. As everyone adjusted to the brightness and noise, they finally took in their surroundings.

Moments ago, they’d been in a dark underground tunnel, blocked by a heavy iron door. Now, they found themselves in a brightly lit square—or so they initially thought.

Looking further, they realized this wasn’t a square but an arena. They stood in the center, surrounded by towering walls and packed stands.

The stands were full, though the backlighting obscured the spectators’ faces. Brandon knew these were magical illusions. This was a pocket dimension—a semi-plane linked to Vonder’s material plane, smaller and less complex than the fairyland’s liminal space between dimensions.

Still, the audiovisual effects were dizzying. Brandon couldn’t help but wonder which sadist had designed all this.

"Where are we, my lord?" Cinnabar finally steadied herself and asked, trembling. She was better off than the miner, who had collapsed in fear.

Metissa and Kulan remained silent. The former was calmer, while the latter was wary, his hand resting on his sword.

"The Arena of Destiny," Brandon answered.

"The Arena of Destiny? What’s that?"

Brandon pointed upward. "Do you see that sword?" Following his gaze, everyone saw a longsword embedded in a stone pedestal at the center of the arena.

The black blade gleamed faintly under the bright light. Its design was unusual—it resembled a longsword but was as wide as a palm and much longer than usual, blending characteristics of both a greatsword and a longsword.

"What is that?" Kulan’s brows twitched. As an old swordsman, he recognized it as an exceptional weapon.

"," Metissa answered. "I know this sword. It’s one of the relics of the Silver Lineage, belonging to the runic dwarves."

"Yes, the Sword of the Earth—Harangya," Brandon elaborated. "Legend says it’s connected to the earth itself, causing earthquakes and destruction when wielded. Players call it the Quake Sword because its attacks include an earthquake spell equal to its base damage."

was a cone-shaped area spell, similar in range to wind slash, and while it consumed mana, it was well worth it. For a , this was a divine artifact. Even Brandon, seeing the sword, couldn’t help but twitch his fingers. Its allure for any swordsman was undeniable.

Moreover, the sword had a ‘’ attribute—

Such attributes usually appeared on items tied to specific alignments or elements. From its name, the Sword of the Earth clearly related to , allowing it to command elemental beings.

Brandon now understood the origin of the stone panthers outside.

"Harangya, Harangya…" Kulan muttered. "Could it be that Harangya—the weapon of the giant ?"

Brandon nodded. Mígaile was one of the most beloved sons of the and the uncrowned king of the land. In myth, this sword was his scepter and the seal of his dominion over the earth.

Though it was only a legend, Brandon felt a flicker of intrigue. Taking a deep breath, he explained, "Those who come here have the chance to claim the sword through a trial. But it’s not without cost. If you fail, you’ll be turned to stone and remain here forever."

"That’s the meaning of the Arena of Destiny."

Brandon was beginning to feel a headache. The Arena of Destiny was one of the more challenging ancient relic quests.

But before he could dwell on it, Kulan asked, "How difficult is the trial?" The elder stared at the sword, intrigued. Though he didn’t fully understand where they were, his confidence stemmed from his golden-tier strength. Unlike the terrified miner, who still hadn’t uttered a word, Kulan wasn’t easily intimidated.

"Extremely difficult," Metissa replied. "Since it exists between fantasy and reality, the difficulty here has no upper limit."

The phrase ‘no upper limit’ made everyone pale. "My lord, what about us?" Cinnabar asked.

The Silver Elf princess shook her head. "There’s no escape. Everyone must attempt the trial at least once to earn the right to leave."

"Everyone?" Kulan caught onto the keyword.

"Yes. Unless you’re below iron rank, trials here must be faced individually, not as a group."

Hearing this, Cinnabar turned pale. "If someone fails… what happens?" Devoid of strength, passing the trial seemed impossible for her.

"They’ll remain here until the barrier dissipates, permanently turned to stone," Brandon interjected. "But if someone successfully completes an additional trial, they can save their companion. Don’t worry, Cinnabar."

"My lord…" The red-haired girl paused, understanding the implication of Brandon’s words. Her expression grew complex as she looked up at him.

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