Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C77

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Chapter 77: The King Beneath the Earth, Part 28

“Only one lift remains operational in Zone A03, but , are you certain you want to go down there?” The overman’s gaze darted between the elderly dwarf and , his tone tinged with unease.

He had led Odum deep into the mine tunnels, trailed by a dozen soldiers. Kulan had vanished without a trace, leaving paralyzed with fear. Odum was now their sole hope, so when the old dwarf appeared demanding access to the lower levels, Orkins was overjoyed.

As for Roma?

The scribe, clutching at this last lifeline, barely noticed her presence beside the dwarf. Desperate for salvation, he cared little whether Odum chose to bring along his illegitimate daughter—it was the dwarf’s prerogative, after all.

To the overman’s inquiry, Odum snorted dismissively through his large nose. “What do you think I’m here for? Idle chatter?” He glanced back at the trembling soldiers behind him—clearly, the terrifying rumors of monsters lurking below had shaken them to their core. “If any of you are too scared to follow,” he barked, “you can stay up here.”

The soldiers visibly relaxed. “But what if someone asks why we didn’t go down?” one ventured nervously.

“What concern is that of mine?” Odum snapped. Truth be told, he would have preferred not to descend alone; who knew if the tales of monsters were true? With so many witnesses claiming sightings, it seemed plausible. Though skilled, Odum wasn’t exactly unmatched. Still, dragging these soldiers along would only complicate matters. “Make something up,” he grumbled. “I won’t expose your lies—consider it a favor.”

The soldiers nodded fervently. “You’re truly a good man, Odum,” they chorused.

Soon, the group arrived at the lone operational lift. Roma tilted her head curiously, inspecting the contraption. Had they been alone, she might have reached out to touch it—but before she could decide, Odum had already yanked her aboard.

This time, the overman did not join them. “Odum,” he called from the platform, “I’ll leave you to it. Be careful.”

Odum snorted. “Typical humans—pathetic cowards.”

Awkward silence settled over the group. Only the overman retained enough composure to ask hesitantly, “Odum, you do know how to operate this machine, right?”

“Of course,” Odum growled, pulling several levers on the control panel. The lift roared to life, descending steadily and leaving the overman and soldiers far above. As they descended, the surrounding walls blurred past, and the air grew stiflingly hot.

Once alone, Roma became noticeably more animated. She reached out to touch the rocky walls, but Odum yanked her back sharply. Glaring at her, he barked, “Do you have a death wish?”

“Sorry!” Roma apologized at lightning speed, her voice squeaking.

At that moment, the lift jolted to a halt on the lower level, causing both passengers to sway slightly. Odum raised his torch, scanning the area. The fourth level of the mine was as cramped and oppressive as ever. After a moment’s thought, he extinguished the flame.

Then he realized his oversight—he hadn’t brought a luminescent crystal. While he could return to the upper level to retrieve one from the others, pride prevented him from admitting the mistake. Besides, dwarves were naturally adept at seeing in the dark. Resolute, he decided to press onward.

“It’s pitch black,” Roma’s voice echoed softly in the darkness. Her eyes gleamed faintly, reflecting the dim remnants of light.

“Shh,” Odum sniffed. The air had grown thin, making open flames risky. “Just follow me.”

“Why not light something?” Roma asked innocently.

“Because we’re underground, and air is precious here.”

“A luminescent crystal?”

“Nope.”

“But it’s so dark…”

“There’s nothing we can do about that.”

“I wish there was light…” Roma murmured wistfully.

“Quiet—” Odum’s words caught in his throat as a soft glow suddenly illuminated the surroundings. Blinking in disbelief, he turned to see Roma holding up her hand, her palm emitting a gentle white light.

“Wha… what is this?” Odum stammered.

“I don’t know,” Roma replied, turning her hand over curiously. “It just started glowing. Isn’t that interesting?”

“You don’t know?” Odum scowled, convinced she was teasing him.

“Nope,” Roma nodded earnestly. “I just thought, ‘I wish there was light,’ and it happened. Isn’t that neat?”

“This has never happened before?”

“Nope.”

Odum placed a hand on Roma’s forehead, scrutinizing her closely.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Odum muttered, shaking his head. “I’ve heard of people shunned by and wizards alike—those whose blood flows with .” He paused. “Does anyone else in your family share this trait?”

Roma pondered for a moment. “ said my aunt is a witch.”

“A witch?” Odum’s eyes widened. “Impossible. Witches and those people are sworn enemies—unless she isn’t your real aunt. Were you adopted?”

Roma bristled. “She is my aunt.”

Odum raised an eyebrow, deciding it wasn’t his place to pry into human affairs. Lately, he felt increasingly irritable since meeting this girl. Scratching his head, he relented. “Fine, having light isn’t bad. Stick close—I don’t want you wandering off. This place isn’t safe.”

“Okay.” Roma nodded obediently.

Her compliance lasted mere seconds before curiosity struck again. “What’s that, old man?”

Odum froze, instinctively turning—

---

’ words brought Brandon back to the night that marked the beginning of the , when he’d barely escaped the at Buchi’s estate with Roma. That night, he’d been an ordinary young man thrust into extraordinary circumstances, fighting desperately to survive.

Even now, the memory of the undead’s spear piercing his chest sent phantom pain coursing through him. When Freya and her militia rescued him from the Red Pine Forest, his fatal wound had healed significantly. At the time, he attributed it to his talent.

Now, however, he understood the truth. It was Otaris who had saved him.

He looked at her, and she nodded solemnly.

“Thank you,” he said.

“No need, young one,” Otaris smiled gently. “As your , saving you benefits me as well. Besides, I’d rather not return to slumber for another long stretch.”

Brandon’s heart skipped a beat. Did this mean Otaris would intervene whenever he faced danger? If so, his previous brushes with death seemed trivial in hindsight—they simply hadn’t reached critical levels yet.

Otaris had served , the Wind Sovereign. Though Brandon had spent most of his gaming days in human territories, unfamiliar with the legendary northern monarch, Delutte, the Elven King, was renowned alongside King of Flames, Geert. Surely, the followers of such icons possessed peak elemental-level strength. And the twenty-four knights of the Wind Sovereign wouldn’t fall short either.

Having an NPC equivalent to at least level eighty as his guardian thrilled Brandon. He recalled a mission in where players escorted a high-level Master Wizard from the Tower of Stars and Moons to investigate a magically warped forest. Being carried by such NPCs left an indelible impression—it was the only time he’d experienced crushing dungeons effortlessly.

Lost in thought, Brandon stole a glance at Otaris.

Unfortunately, the elven woman caught him red-handed, reading his thoughts with ease. Closing her eyes, she spoke sternly. “However, the Sacred Seal Soul has been stripped of its power. Beyond swordsmanship and certain arcane secrets, I possess little strength myself. Don’t expect too much, young one.”

“Huh?”

Caught off guard, Brandon flushed with embarrassment. Simultaneously, disappointment welled within him.

Otaris continued, “Ultimately, the Sacred Seal represents the power of inheritance. Four rings were lost to the human world, and your grandfather obtained one because we owed your ancestors a debt.”

“Ancestors?”

Otaris fell silent, refusing to elaborate further.

Though rebuffed, Brandon felt no awkwardness. He’d encountered similar reticence from legendary NPCs countless times in games. Their lips were sealed unless specific conditions were met—you couldn’t coax useful information out of them otherwise.

Still, Brandon gleaned enough to confirm his suspicions: his grandfather had indeed concealed something from him—and likely from his father as well. His noble origins hinted at a deeper secret.

For now, though, he refrained from pressing further.

A string of text notifications appeared on his retina, urging him to select rewards. His conversation with Otaris had consumed too much time—the arena’s atmosphere was shifting. The host granted challengers limited preparation time, and if Brandon didn’t act soon, the next trial might begin without him.

By then, Metissa had approached him once more, evidently assuming he intended to face another challenge. The arena was eerily quiet. Kulan seemed lost in thought, while the youths watched eagerly, anticipation written across their faces.

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