Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C72

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Chapter 72: The King Beneath the Earth, Part 23

In terms of raw power, Brandon believed to be the strongest among his opponents, followed by , with and his grandfather trailing behind. However, when ranked by swordsmanship prowess, his grandfather and Buga would undoubtedly lead, Eberton following closely, while Teste brought up the rear.

Brandon had fought Teste once before and knew the man’s style relied on speed—a quality heavily dependent on physical attributes. The ’s rules severely hampered Teste, making him the weakest link in this quartet.

Surveying his four adversaries, Brandon resolved to exploit the weakest point first. Even so, the situation remained grim.

Once a challenge was accepted in , there was no turning back. Brandon steeled himself for an all-or-nothing battle.

Silence enveloped the arena as spectators realized how dire Brandon’s predicament truly was. Facing four formidable foes simultaneously—any fool could see it was a losing proposition.

, who had been pounding futilely against the air barrier, paused. Putting himself in Brandon’s shoes, he couldn’t imagine faring any better. Tobbs alone could knock him flat ten times over.

He could only hope the old man might show mercy, considering their familial bond. But deep down, Kulan knew this was merely a projection within this bizarre realm.

“Watch out!” one of the youths suddenly shouted.

Everyone saw make the first move. His speed wasn’t remarkable, but his approach was cunning, positioning himself where Brandon couldn’t possibly see him.

Yet the warning came just in time.

Brandon’s eyes flickered slightly. He shifted his sword behind his back, letting Teste’s blade strike its spine with a metallic clang before sliding off harmlessly. This initial clash revealed Teste to be less threatening than anticipated without his usual strength. His swordsmanship seemed mediocre—perhaps akin to a mid-tier player from the game's early stages.

Teste lunged forward with his momentum, but Brandon capitalized on the opportunity. Using his right hand to deflect Teste’s grip, he leaned back and struck under the viscount’s arm, sending him sprawling backward.

Before Brandon could press the attack, Eberton stepped in, his eyes burning with phosphorescent blue flames. Buga closed in from behind moments later.

“Damn,” Brandon muttered inwardly. Engaging these two simultaneously would be suicide. He narrowly evaded Eberton’s vertical slash, rolling sideways to create distance between them.

The White Knight showed no leniency. With a swift motion, he executed a cross-shaped wind slash—a signature move from designed for both range and pursuit. Brandon knew this well. Rolling backward, he planted a hand on the ground, spinning 270 degrees around a pivot point to narrowly avoid the lethal strike.

The wind slash carved into the ground, kicking up sand and dust. But Brandon had no time to admire Eberton’s technique; the relentless undead knight pressed forward again.

Frustration boiled over. Crouching low, Brandon raised his sword to parry another incoming strike, using the ground’s resistance to counterattack. Yet before his intent could materialize, a heavy greatsword intervened—Buga’s weapon.

At that moment, Brandon felt the full weight of fighting multiple opponents. Trapped between Eberton’s relentless assault and Buga’s unavoidable blow, escape seemed impossible. Spectators gasped silently, hands covering their mouths. To most, abandoning his sword appeared to be Brandon’s only option—but reclaiming it amidst four foes would prove nearly insurmountable.

Yet Brandon defied expectations.

Instead of retreating, he remembered the three additional swords at his waist. Swiftly drawing one with his left hand, he intercepted Buga’s strike with a resounding clang. Though his left arm lacked the strength of his right, Buga’s blade grazed Brandon’s cheek, leaving a stinging gash.

“Damn it, don’t hit the face—” Brandon cursed inwardly.

Cursing or not, his movements didn’t falter. As soon as Buga’s sword passed, Brandon leveraged the recoil to surge forward. Combining frontal breakthrough with , he unleashed devastating force that shattered Eberton’s defense, sending the undead knight flying backward.

Had charging been part of formal swordplay, Brandon would’ve seized the perfect follow-up. Even now, the opening seemed promising—Eberton sprawled in the sand, Buga’s sword extended and unable to recover quickly.

An ordinary fighter might have seized the chance, but Brandon wasn’t ordinary. emphasized trading blows recklessly—an ethos embraced fully by undead warriors who feared neither injury nor death.

True to form, Brandon feigned advancement. Sensing the ruse, Eberton abandoned defense upon landing, retaliating with a horizontal wind slash. Fortunately, Brandon anticipated this, leaping backward just in time to evade the deadly arc.

But Eberton wasn’t the only one deceived. Brandon’s feint exposed Eberton to Buga’s reach. Startled yet undeterred, Buga adjusted his swing mid-motion, pivoting his massive blade to deliver a sweeping counterattack aimed squarely at Brandon’s back.

“A fine ,” Brandon thought, suppressing excitement rather than fear. He’d been waiting for this exact maneuver. Within Buga’s repertoire, only this technique allowed rapid redirection to target him. While Eberton served as bait, the real trap was set for the burlier opponent.

Brandon leapt high into the air.

Buga’s eyes widened in alarm. Experienced as he was, he immediately grasped Brandon’s ploy. Yet after consecutive directional shifts, his center of gravity teetered precariously. Any further movement risked toppling him entirely—rendering him helpless against Brandon’s impending attack. Meanwhile, Eberton lay prone nearby, and Teste struggled to rise.

The outcome was inevitable.

Brandon arced gracefully through the air, passing directly over Buga’s head. Suspended upside-down, he drew his sword in preparation for a decisive strike—

Time froze.

All held their breath. Unlike the battles against Aldra or the IV-Type Cavalry Hunters, this confrontation wasn’t flashy or explosive—but every bit as gripping. Swordplay unfolded in blinding succession, almost too fast to follow. When clarity returned:

Brandon had reversed his disadvantage, poised to deliver a killing blow.

For the untrained youths, this spectacle surpassed even the tales told by bards in taverns—imbued with a sense of desperate, last-ditch heroism.

But stories rarely unfold exactly as imagined.

Just as Brandon believed victory was assured, a terrifying whip-like crack echoed from behind—a sound born of a blade slicing through air at breakneck speed.

His scalp tingled. He knew who it was.

He could continue his attack, assured of piercing Buga’s throat. But equally certain was the likelihood of being cleaved in two by his grandfather’s sword.

An unfavorable trade-off. Reluctantly, Brandon aborted his strike mid-air.

Spinning rapidly, he angled his sword behind him once more. The indestructible attribute granted by saved his life as his grandfather’s sword-whip struck with a teeth-grinding clang. The sheer force reverberated through the blade, threatening to shatter Brandon’s wrist.

Though spared dismemberment, he was flung violently backward, rolling several times before landing. Rising, he saw Buga lose balance after the whirlwind slash, collapsing to the ground. And standing tall, like an immovable mountain, was the towering figure of his grandfather.

“Oh—” the youths sighed collectively, disappointment evident.

“Strange, Buga seems weaker than rumored,” Yuta murmured thoughtfully. Beside her, Cinnabar remained fixated on Brandon, missing the comment. Across the arena, the elderly swordsman shared similar thoughts.

“Why does Tobbs seem… weaker?” Kulan furrowed his brow.

Yet their doubts were easily answered. At this very moment, Brandon understood the truth: these were mere impressions drawn from his memories. Except for Eberton, he hadn’t engaged in life-or-death combat with any of the others. Without such experiences, their true swordsmanship remained obscured.

Even so, the situation troubled Brandon deeply. He realized, with growing frustration, that his earlier offensive efforts had achieved nothing.

Worse still, they had depleted his stamina.

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