Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C62

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Chapter 62: The King Beneath the Earth, Part 13

After a brief moment of shock, Brandon realized it wasn’t unusual for to have known his grandfather, given that both were veterans of the . However, Kulan hailed from a knightly family, while Tobbs was a commoner—a gap akin to that between nobility and peasantry. How had they crossed paths?

He pushed the thought aside as the battle in the arena began. The seemed enraged by the disappearance of its prey. As Kulan stepped onto the sandy ground of the coliseum, the beast howled and snapped the chains binding it.

The thick iron chains shattered one by one with thunderous bangs. "Impressive," Kulan thought, drawing his sword and discarding the scabbard. By the time the massive demon from beneath the sulfur river charged toward him, dragging broken chains and clanging loudly, Kulan was already prepared.

With a slight shift of his weight, gray eyes locked onto the airborne beast, Kulan planted his right foot back and raised his sword. With a roar, he bellowed:

"Get out of my way."

A sharp airwave erupted outward from Kulan’s body, blasting in all directions like an invisible shockwave. The Cerberus hound was flung backward through the air, crashing into the far wall of the arena. The impact caused bricks and stones to collapse in a deafening roar, shrouding the area in dust.

"Damn…" Brandon watched, inwardly stunned. This was a manifestation of a swordsman's sword energy, a technique skill. But to project wind pressure over a hundred meters? He wondered just how high the core skill bonus must be.

In , every skill was divided into foundational and technical categories. Techniques built upon foundational skills or physical attributes. For instance, and Frontal Breakthrough relied on Brandon’s military swordsmanship, while Strength Surge and Charge depended on strength, constitution, and agility.

The higher the core skill level and physical attributes, the greater the power of technical skills. Yet at this stage, projecting sword energy over a hundred meters?

Brandon had never heard of such a feat before. He recalled achieving a similar level only around levels eighty or ninety in the game. And Kulan, being mid-tier gold rank, shouldn’t exceed forty-five levels at most.

By the time the Cerberus hound rose from the rubble, shaking its three massive heads, sand and debris cascading off its body, it appeared battered but not severely injured. The fall hadn’t done much damage due to the reduced resistance in the air compared to hitting the ground.

Before it could fully recover, Kulan closed the distance. Without charging, he darted across the sandy ground like lightning, covering thirty meters in a single leap. The hound barely had time to bare its teeth before its enormous, wheel-like eyes reflected the approaching blade.

There was no room to dodge, nor even time to feel fear.

With a thunderous crack, everyone watched as the elder leapt high into the air, bringing his sword down onto the center head of the sulfur river demon. The blade sank to the hilt and continued downward, splitting the massive skull in two.

Kulan landed, flicking his sword to the side, leaving a black arc of blood on the sand. He quickly retreated, narrowly avoiding being drenched in the foul-smelling ichor.

The Cerberus hound collapsed, its limbs splayed outward. But it didn’t surrender. As Kulan backed away, its remaining two heads unleashed twin streams of fire.

Though Kulan had anticipated this attack, he hadn’t expected the flames to reach so far—like dragonfire sweeping across half the arena. He rolled to the side, but his clothes, eyebrows, and part of his beard were singed.

Furious at the damage to his prized beard, Kulan roared and charged straight at the Cerberus hound. With a single punch to the jaw of its left head, a clear snap echoed through the arena. But that wasn’t all—the sheer force of the blow lifted the massive creature, nearly a story tall even while lying down, clean off the ground.

As the beast’s weight shifted upward, it seemed poised to crash back down and crush the elder beneath it.

But Kulan stood firm, leaning slightly forward. With a swift upward slash, his blade cut diagonally from the hound’s lower left flank to its upper right shoulder. A deafening tear split the air as the monster was bisected in midair.

Black blood rained down like a storm before the two halves of the corpse crashed to the ground.

For a moment, silence reigned.

Yuta, trapped in her cage, sucked in a breath of cold air, her emerald-green eyes flashing with awe. "Incredible..."

It wasn’t just her; the youths in the other cages were frozen, mouths agape, unable to utter a sound. The overwhelming force displayed by a gold-rank warrior was indeed earth-shattering.

"He’s still injured," Cinnabar muttered, gripping the iron bars tightly. "Otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble."

Yuta nodded. She knew she couldn’t fully grasp the situation, but Cinnabar’s insight, honed by firsthand experience at that level, far surpassed hers.

Meanwhile, in another cage, Joka whispered to the frail youth beside him: "Koven, do you think they’ll save us?"

The boy shook his head. "Hard to say."

"I don’t think so," Mahler interjected, his expression complex. "Why would they? We’re strangers, and this isn’t child’s play."

"What will happen to us?" Joka asked.

Another shake of the head. "I don’t know."

"Will we be trapped here forever?" Some began to cry.

"Can’t we do something, Koven?" Joka pleaded, unwilling to accept a life imprisoned in this hellish place.

"I’ll try," Koven replied, glancing outside.

"Who will you ask for help?" Joka pressed.

"The guard captain," someone answered. "They say there’s no one in all of Tonygel who can match him." All eyes turned to Koven, but the frail youth remained silent.

He stared at the arena—

---

Brandon showed no surprise at Kulan’s victory. What truly astonished him was the extent of the elder’s injuries. Was it really necessary for a mid-tier gold-rank swordsman to go to such lengths to just kill a Cerberus hound?

He tilted his head slightly. "How badly did you injure him?"

"Thousand-Man Strike," Metissa murmured softly.

Brandon wiped sweat from his brow. To think Kulan could survive such a blow was astounding. But Metissa quickly added, "He dodged the main strike, though the shockwave hit him, and he collided with the rocks. I followed up, and he surrendered immediately…"

"Not much resistance," Brandon mused, recalling Kulan’s earlier shout to halt. It seemed the elder had recognized him from the start.

Rubbing his temples, Brandon wondered how Kulan had identified him. His swordsmanship bore little resemblance to his grandfather’s style. Though Eruin’s Battle Formation Swordsmanship had undergone reforms after the November War, further refined by players, it still differed significantly.

But he had no time to dwell on it. Another battle was about to begin in the arena. True to form, Kulan once again demanded a challenge. The Cerberus hound’s corpse dissolved into white light, and a gate in the southwest rose, revealing a heavily armored dwarf.

As the heavy footsteps echoed, the Silver Elf princess spoke. "My lord, I recognize this person."

Brandon also studied the figure clad in thick plate armor, wearing a four-horned helmet and wielding a warhammer nearly half his size. The hammer bore the emblem of a burning fist. "So do I," Brandon said. ", a famous who was once a slave to the —but this is merely a , not the real person."

He added, "Around early gold rank."

"This will be trouble for Kulan."

Metissa didn’t respond but glanced curiously at her master. She knew Brandon was a Planeswalker, but Planeswalkers weren’t omniscient. Yet somehow, Brandon possessed knowledge that should have been lost to time.

The history of the runic dwarves had long turned to dust. Even among Buga’s wizards, only ancient, bearded scholars buried in texts understood the secrets of the and runic dwarves.

As Brandon predicted, Kulan faced trouble.

Evarian might lack Kulan’s agility, but the elder struggled to harm the fortress-like dwarf. Moreover, Evarian’s warhammer, Wrathflame, unleashed fiery storms within a twenty-meter radius. Kulan attempted several charges, only to end up with his beard and eyebrows scorched.

The battle raged fiercely, and everyone—especially the caged youths—held their breath. To them, this old man was their last hope, yet now he was locked in a grueling fight, shaking their confidence.

And this was only the second challenge.

Finally, Evarian cornered Kulan. Both combatants were evenly matched in experience. Evarian’s simulacrum represented his prime in the arena, while Kulan was a veteran of the November War. But the gray dwarf lord clearly had superior stamina, and his enchanted armor provided a significant advantage.

With a roar, Evarian unleashed his most powerful attack. Flames erupted from his warhammer as he swung it like a meteor, aiming straight for Kulan.

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