Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C80

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Chapter 80: The Unexpected Visitor

Everyone could see the hesitation in Brandon's eyes. Yuta and Cinnabar exchanged a glance but remained silent. The young faces around them were tense, their unease plain to see. Every challenge in the had been grueling, and they all knew that if not for the sudden appearance of that mysterious woman, the young man who faced the last trial would have surely fallen.

As for the challenges ahead, no one dared claim confidence in their chances.

Brandon was no different.

gently tugged at his sleeve from behind, her voice low. "My lord, none of the cards in the deck are irreplaceable. There is no need to risk it."

But Brandon still hesitated. True, the world of was vast, and countless were scattered across its lands—plentiful in number, yet finding a specific one or two was akin to catching smoke with bare hands. Having played games before, Brandon understood well the fickle nature of rare equipment—it came once, never again, relying entirely on luck. Miss this chance, and it might never come again.

Yet he was no reckless fool. Even gamblers staking everything did so to seize that sliver of hope, however minuscule. But stepping back into the arena? For him, even that sliver of hope seemed nonexistent.

He paused, about to shake his head, when a voice interrupted his thoughts. "My lord, let me try."

Brandon looked up to see Cinnabar, her frail form barely holding itself upright as she rose from the cage. Her face was pale, but determination tightened her brow as she spoke. "My lord, I feel some of my strength returning. And I haven’t faced a challenge yet. Please, let me give it a try—"

Before she could finish, Yuta pulled her back by the arm.

The mercenary commander saw the flicker of temptation in Brandon’s eyes. She feared that Cinnabar’s offer might sway him, and an instinctive protectiveness surged within her. In that moment, seeing Cinnabar’s fragile figure reminded Yuta painfully of her own younger sister—alive, standing before her once more. She couldn’t bear the thought of letting this girl walk into danger.

"Let me go, Yuta," Cinnabar said firmly, brushing off the older woman’s hand.

Yuta froze, taken aback.

But Brandon shook his head. "Some?"

The first challenge in the arena was against a Cerberus hound, a mid-to-high silver-rank creature. Even Yuta wouldn’t stand a chance against it. What use would a partially recovered her be?

He could tell Cinnabar’s current strength barely reached the lower tiers of silver rank.

"No," Brandon replied without hesitation. "I won’t risk any of you."

"But—" Cinnabar began.

Brandon cut her off. No card, no matter how valuable, was worth risking the lives of those close to him. Unlike the nobles who treated life as expendable, Brandon hadn’t grown callous enough to gamble with human lives. Besides, if Cinnabar failed and was thrown back into the cage, what then? Would he rescue her again?

With a firm shake of his head, Brandon refused her request. He glanced at Koven, giving him a regretful look, then turned his gaze skyward, preparing to respond—

"Huh?"

"Brandon, you’re here!" A voice rang out, clear and melodic, catching everyone off guard. Brandon’s heart skipped a beat. Why was she here? Against his will, he turned, and sure enough, there she was—the familiar face alight with surprise.

stood at the edge of the arena, her hands resting on the leather pouch strapped to her chest. Beside her was a dwarf, one Brandon recognized. Odum, he thought, a descendant of the . He’d seen him once before, in ‘’ inn.

But what was Roma doing with him? Questions swirled in Brandon’s mind.

Odum, meanwhile, paid no attention to anyone else. The old dwarf craned his neck, gawking at the towering architecture around him, utterly absorbed, his mouth agape in awe.

"Brandon—" Unlike the dwarf, Roma’s focus had been solely on him since she arrived, ignoring everyone else entirely.

The joy in her expression quickly melted into concern. Her eyes shimmered, unusually red-rimmed—a sight Brandon had never seen before. "I was so worried about you, Brandon. Aunt isn’t here… If something happened to you…"

The vulnerability in her voice softened Brandon’s resolve. He’d intended to ask why she was here—and where were those two angels?—but the words died on his lips.

Roma lowered her head, shuffling her feet nervously, her round-toed shoes tapping together. "I came here secretly… Are you going to scold me now?"

Despite her words, the mischievous young woman peeked at him through the corner of her eye, feigning fear.

How could Brandon reprimand her like this? After all, she’d come because of him. He certainly needed to teach her a lesson about wandering off alone—but not now.

With a wry smile, he shook his head, letting his frustrations dissipate like morning mist.

A new problem arose, though. Anyone entering this place was required to face a challenge. Given Roma’s abilities, passing such a test was impossible. So who would save her?

Brandon felt a chill crawl up his spine. The sixth challenge?

Sometimes, the more you dread something, the faster it arrives. As if on cue, the disembodied voice above boomed:

"A new challenger. Will you accept the trial?"

"Eh?" Roma tilted her head, confused, glancing left and right as if searching for the source of the voice.

"Roma, decline," Brandon urged through gritted teeth. There was no way he’d leave her here alone. This girl had been the first person he met in this world, the one who had stood by him through every trial. To him, she was more than just a companion—perhaps even more important than the Valkyrie of his dreams.

If Eruin’s revival and the Valkyrie’s fate were dreams, Roma represented something far more tangible. She was the bridge between him and this world, a bond deeper than family. Two souls resided in his body, making the concept of family both intimate and distant, leaving only his grandfather’s aged face vivid in his memory.

That was why, despite his longing, he hadn’t returned to “his” home. Deep down, he feared facing it.

But Roma was different.

He’d promised to protect her, to be her knight.

So Brandon rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. A man kept his word. If they couldn’t win, they would turn to stone together. Though bitter, he didn’t regret it.

"My lord?"

Metissa, attuned to his thoughts, sensed his resolve.

"It’s my choice," Brandon said with a small smile. "Though it means inconveniencing you, Metissa. You may have to stay here for a while—perhaps a long while—until another master finds you."

"The summoned being would no longer be me," the silver elf maiden replied softly. "I belong only to you, my lord, just as Chael belongs to his planeswalker. Each has their own rules and worlds; the same card doesn’t mean the same person."

Brandon’s heart stirred.

Metissa glanced toward the sidelines, her voice gentle. "I imagine Lady Cinnabar feels the same."

"What do you mean?"

The silver princess raised her head, her silvery-gray eyes serene, as if untouched by worldly chaos. "Since the dissolution of the Gray Wolves Mercenary Company, my lord is the sole anchor for Lady Cinnabar. Haven’t you noticed?"

"How could that be?" Brandon frowned. "What about the others from the company? And Aiko—I assumed Cinnabar liked him."

"Autn’s mi da’tt do kares," Metissa intoned, her voice ethereal.

"People need each other," Brandon translated the .

The silver maiden nodded. "Because we are valued, we value those who value us. True friends are rare in this world, which is why we cherish such mutual understanding."

"Lady Cinnabar feels valued, just as I do," the princess continued with a soft smile. "I am but a lowborn bastard child, yet by your side, I feel genuine respect and kindness. It brings me joy, my lord, and I treasure it deeply."

She bowed her head slightly. "Thank you, my lord. Please don’t feel guilty."

Brandon nodded, turning his gaze to Roma. Still unaware of the gravity of the situation, she stared at him, wide-eyed. "What’s wrong, Brandon? Did I do something bad?"

"No," Brandon said, shaking his head. "Better to have good intentions lead to mistakes than ill ones. The former can improve, while the latter only worsens, don’t you think?"

He drew his sword.

Silence fell over the arena. Koven, too, seemed to understand the stakes, retracting whatever he held in his hand. They all knew the rules now, and they understood Brandon’s predicament.

That young woman clearly held his heart.

What would he choose?

As for whether they themselves would be saved, Koven found himself strangely indifferent. If Brandon chose to save them, it would require facing the seventh challenge—a feat beyond imagining.

Without hope, despair somehow felt less crushing.

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