Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C78

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Chapter 78: The King Beneath the Earth, Part 29

Brandon knew he couldn’t possibly continue to the next challenge. While the fifth battle hadn’t involved the —a stroke of luck—it didn’t mean subsequent trials would be any easier.

The sixth fight was undoubtedly meant for elemental-level combat. Against such adversaries, Brandon didn’t even need to consider his chances. Otaris had already made it clear she couldn’t assist him this time, and there were no like the or a young dragoness to shoulder the burden.

Even with reinforcements—whether himself, Metissa, or even duplicates of Chael created via —the odds remained insurmountable. Even if Cinnabar regained her full strength, victory would still elude them. The gap between tiers was simply too vast. This was why Cinnabar hadn’t lasted a single move against the .

Thus, Brandon didn’t hesitate long before accepting the system’s prompt to select his reward. The wheel reappeared before him, and with a flick of his finger, the pointer began spinning. As it slowed, it bypassed "" once again, stopping instead on a card labeled .

“Damn it,” Brandon muttered under his breath. His luck seemed as terrible as ever. He briefly wished Red-Handed Softie were here. But now wasn’t the time to summon Fleur—Cold Fir City had its own pressing matters awaiting resolution.

He held out his palm, letting the gray, attributeless card fall into his hand. Its description read:

The Everwoven Myriad

(Relic of Myriad Wonders III)

30 Any

[Artifact – Sanctum/Fantasy]

Attach: Add three to the target creature (Dwarf/Cruzean).

"The dwarven treasure trove, gleaming with gold—"

As the card descended, Otaris evidently noticed it as well. Her violet-blue eyes flickered thoughtfully, but after a moment’s consideration, she chose not to comment.

Brandon’s focus was entirely on the card in his hand, leaving him oblivious to the Sacred Seal Soul’s reaction. Instead, he mentally reached out to others with a question:

“What are these equipment counters?”

“My lord, have you acquired something interesting again?” A familiar, lighthearted voice echoed in his mind—Chael’s. Surprised, Brandon shot back, “You can hear me?”

“Of course.” Chael’s image shrugged within Brandon’s thoughts. “I’m your main card. Metissa, Tiger Finch—they should all be able to hear you. Since you didn’t specify who you were addressing earlier, we all received the message.”

“The link between and summoned creatures isn’t limited by distance?” Brandon mused that this was fortunate, though he asked, “How’s the situation on your end?”

“Heh, my lord,” Chael teased, “care to guess? There’s someone here quite suspicious of your identity. You’ll need to educate them when you return.”

Someone suspicious of him? Brandon frowned inwardly but ignored Chael’s attempt to bait him. Instead, he pressed on:

“Who can explain what this is?” He gestured toward the card in his hand.

“Equipment counters enhance a summoned creature’s combat power, My lord. Is the card bronze or silver-tier?” Chael responded smoothly, unfazed by Brandon’s abrupt change of topic.

“Bronze,” Brandon replied.

“Each bronze equipment counter raises the summoned creature’s by approximately five stages,” Metissa chimed in. The Silver Elf maiden, having been removed from the arena earlier, now stood opposite Kulan, observing silently.

“What’s a natural level?” Brandon queried further.

“It refers to the level indicated on the summoned creature’s card,” Chael explained.

Brandon’s mind raced. Levels were rarely mentioned in this world outside of items like . Here, people typically classified beings by their realm—gold-rank, silver-rank, awakened elemental affinity—and never referred to specific numerical levels. Such terminology felt more akin to gaming jargon.

A sudden realization struck Brandon. He glanced at the card in his hand, questioning for the first time whether it bore any connection to how he’d arrived in this world. After all, he’d never encountered Fate Cards in his previous games. Though unsealed cards became rule-bound and visible only to their summoner, what about sealed ones?

Shaking off the thought for now, he focused on another card in his possession: Golden Banner, which also boosted summoned creatures’ levels. However, since acquiring it, he hadn’t used it—it granted only a single-level increase to all summoned creatures on the field, at the cost of five light-element points.

Given his chronic shortage of light elements, this ability held little value currently. Perhaps later, when maintaining multiple summons became feasible, that single level might prove significant. For now, though, The Everwoven Myriad seemed far more useful.

Turning the card over, he asked, “Chael, can you use this card?” According to its requirements, Metissa, being an elf, was ineligible, but Chael was human.

“You’ll need to show me the card’s details, My lord,” Chael replied.

Brandon mentally projected the card’s image. After a few seconds, the young mage shook his head. “I can’t, my lord.”

“Why not?” Brandon asked, startled.

“I’m a Highland Mage, my lord. Our lineage splintered from the Silver Alliance; while we’ve interbred with Eruin people for generations, in terms of card rules, we’re still considered descendants of Buga people.”

“I see.” Brandon let the card vanish from his hand, feeling a pang of regret. “Then I’ll have to set this aside for now.”

“No,” Metissa interjected. “My lord, someone among your cards can use it.”

“Who?” Brandon blinked in surprise.

“Tiger Finch and the others.”

“Wait,” Brandon hesitated. “Fleur and Tia are wild elves, and Rubis’ Mercenaries include northern barbarians and mountain folk.”

“Metissa is correct, my lord,” Chael added. “Tiger Finch is the main card, and as a Rubis native—one of the Cruzean peoples—he qualifies.”

“So for group-summoning cards, as long as the main card fits the description, it works?” Brandon clarified.

“Yes.”

Brandon relaxed. Raising Chael fifteen levels would place him at the peak of gold-rank—a formidable feat—but elevating Rubis mercenaries by the same margin would bring them to thirty levels, nearing mid-tier silver-rank. That kind of leap was extraordinary, effectively granting him an army of elite commanders.

Not bad at all.

Snapping out of his reverie, he looked up to find Otaris watching him intently. Feeling slightly guilty, he offered an explanation: “I got lost in thought.”

The woman nodded understandingly, smiling faintly.

At that moment, the colossal voice above the arena boomed once more: “Mortal, you have passed the trial. Your reward awaits—”

Brandon raised his head just as the sword embedded in the stone monument vibrated with a resonant hum. It tore free, soaring upward before streaking directly toward him.

The crowd gasped, but Brandon calmly raised his hand, catching the hilt firmly. The blade trembled in his grasp.

A surge of immense power welled up within him, connecting him to the earth itself. As long as he stood grounded, he felt invincible.

In that instant, the arena fell silent. Then, like a tidal wave, the erupted into a thunderous chant:

“! Z’roe!”

“Z’roe! Z’roe!”

The deafening roar washed over everyone, leaving ears ringing and minds reeling. Yet Kulan, Yuta, and even the youths could discern no hostility in the chant—it carried an aura of reverence, almost coronation-like.

The chanting grew louder, filling Brandon with an undeniable sensation. Holding the sword aloft, bathed in the roaring acclaim, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just been crowned king.

Shaking off the thought, he turned to Metissa. “What are they saying?”

“Z’roe is ancient Dwarven, originally the name of a person—the runic dwarves’ ancient emperor, Z’roe. Over time, the name came to symbolize all rulers above emperors.”

“Rulers?”

Brandon raised the sword, spotting a line of text engraved in archaic script. In-game designers, opting for simplicity, had replaced so-called ancient languages with real-world equivalents—in this case, English. Seeing those familiar letters stirred an uncanny sense of déjà vu.

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