Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C82

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Chapter 82: Legacy

It was precisely because he knew all of this that the old dwarf had traveled so far to reach this place. Yet perhaps it wasn’t just for treasure—Odum himself couldn’t fully explain why. Deep within his blood, a voice whispered of a dream.

A dream to restore the legacy of the to the land of .

He recalled the legend passed down among the runic dwarves—a prophecy of revival. Staring at the sword in Brandon’s hand, Odum hesitated. The voice inside urged him to trust the legend, but how could he? The tale spoke of all runic dwarves bowing to the wielder of , following them to rebuild their lost empire.

But for this old dwarf to kneel before a stranger? Such an act would surely break his stubborn bones.

“A legend?” Brandon pressed.

Odum clenched his teeth, deciding to play coy and take things one step at a time. Clearing his throat, he replied, “I can’t say much, but I overheard your earlier conversation—you want to leave here?”

“What do you mean?” Brandon’s attention shifted immediately.

“Nothing, Sir,” Odum chose a title easier for him to accept. Calling Brandon ‘king’ outright would be too jarring—not just for him, but likely for everyone present. “I’m merely suggesting there’s no need for such trouble—”

He paused, carefully pointing to the sword in Brandon’s hand. “If you’d lend me that blade for a moment, perhaps I could help us all leave easily.”

“Oh?”

Brandon had never heard such a claim. He exchanged a glance with Metissa nearby, both sharing a look of skepticism. Even the old swordsman chimed in, “Odum, what nonsense are you spouting? Let me tell you, this boy is far stronger than I am. Don’t try anything clever in front of him unless you want to get yourself into trouble.”

Odum bristled, puffing out his chest. “What I said is true, damn it—” But after a moment’s thought, he wisely avoided clashing with Kulan. The guard captain’s strength was undeniable, and while dwarves were stubborn, Odum prided himself on not being reckless. “This sanctum was built by the runic dwarves to house that sword. Now that the master has retrieved it, leaving shouldn’t pose a problem.”

“Is that so?” Brandon asked, unaware of any such mechanism in the .

“Of course,” Odum replied earnestly. His tone toward Brandon had shifted noticeably. “But it won’t work for you others. You see, the was meant for the descendants of its bloodline. Though you may also be children of the Order, you are outsiders nonetheless.” He paused, emphasizing his point. “But I am different. Runic dwarf blood flows through my veins. With that sword, perhaps I can unlock this space—”

Brandon glanced at Kulan, who seemed hesitant. While Kulan had dealt with Odum before, his understanding of the dwarf didn’t extend beyond his infamous obstinacy. Could he vouch for the man? Even Kulan himself wasn’t sure.

But the young man had already made up his mind. The sword was his prize within this realm. In games, rules protected such acquisitions, and Brandon believed the same principle applied here. If lending the sword to the old dwarf led to nothing, then no harm done. Besides, Odum’s words stirred something in him—they weren’t entirely implausible. Never had Brandon encountered such rumors in-game because players lacked the bloodlines of silver or gold. Thus, they wouldn’t trigger similar scenarios within the sanctum.

With only a brief moment of contemplation, Brandon tossed the sword toward Odum.

“Try it,” he said simply.

If they could leave without being trapped here, all the better. As he thought this, his gaze flickered to Koven, wondering if this might be the turning point of history.

“What is it, sir?” Koven noticed his glance and asked.

“It seems your luck holds,” Brandon replied.

“You’re certain he can do it?” the youth asked, watching as the dwarf took the sword and stepped into the center of the arena. Turning back, he looked at Brandon quizzically.

“No,” Brandon shook his head. “I only trust history.”

“History?” Koven asked incredulously.

Brandon didn’t answer. Instead, he raised his hand, summoning a wind slash to lift the Fate Card off the ground and bring it flying toward him. Catching it mid-air—the Fireclaw Lord card—he silently noted to himself:

System Message: Reward obtained.

A faint smile crossed his lips.

“My lord?” Metissa observed his expression, puzzled. In her eyes, Brandon wasn’t someone who’d show joy over such trivial gains.

Again, Brandon offered no explanation. He merely lifted his gaze to the central sands of the arena.

By now, the old dwarf stood there, holding The Sword of the Earth aloft. Once more, the disembodied voice echoed from above:

“Mortal, will you accept the challenge?”

“Certainly,” Odum declared, startling everyone.

But this time, the challenge did not come. After a brief silence, the voice rumbled again: “From you, I sense a familiar presence. Are you one of our descendants?”

“Yes, spirits of our ancestors and the sacred mountains,” Odum answered proudly. “Like you, I am a child of the highlands and stone, of metal and fire. For centuries, we have endured hardships across the wilderness, overcoming countless trials to arrive here—all for the sake of granting our souls a moment of peace—”

“For this is our origin, my homeland.”

The arena fell silent for a moment before the voice roared like thunder, shaking everyone off balance:

“Peace? No, the time has not yet come.” Its wrath reverberated through the air. “Children of the wilds, you must continue your journey until that time arrives, when your souls may return to the sanctum.”

“The time has come, spirits of our ancestors and the sacred mountains.”

“Has it?”

Suddenly, another voice resonated throughout the space, causing the entire area to hum with energy.

Odum hesitated, glancing back at Brandon. Still uncertain but resolved, he raised The Sword of the Earth once more.

“Dazz Motes Hremm,” he intoned.

It was an unfamiliar tongue, incomprehensible to Brandon, but Metissa recognized it immediately. Furrowing her brow, she explained to her lord, “An incantation of Order—it appears to be a passage from the .”

Brandon knew well what the Sacred Covenant represented. It was the pact signed between all sentient beings and to stand united against the , before the dark times. Part of that covenant established the laws of Order itself, originating from an era even before the Divine Folk—a time Brandon often dismissed as “meaningless backstory.”

Afterward, during the war against the Dragon of Darkness, righteous forces across the land forged another covenant, though written in ancient script, which paled in comparison to the original.

The Sacred Covenant was itself a divine artifact symbolizing Order.

When Odum uttered those words, the entire space trembled violently. Everyone felt the loosening of the surrounding barriers—proof that the old dwarf hadn’t lied. His method worked.

Yet amidst the vibrations, Brandon suddenly experienced a vision—

Strange images appeared before him.

A black moon hung low, casting its shadow over a dark lake. At its center stood a solitary tower, seemingly symbolic of something…

Then the scene shifted. A group of faceless figures clad in black traversed an endless wasteland…

Finally, lines of text emerged in bold letters:

The lost ‘moon’ stole the light.

Brandon recalled seeing these words once during his escape from Ridenburg. Beneath them, new text materialized:

XX: JUDGEMENT

Light is lost.

More text followed:

XVII: THE STAR

wanders the earth, forging ahead through darkness and ignorance (seeking).

Then the visions faded. Shaking his head clear, Brandon saw Metissa gazing at him with concern. He nodded to the silver elf maiden, signaling he was fine.

His gaze shifted slightly, noticing Roma inching closer cautiously, clearly wanting to check on him but afraid of provoking his ire.

Seeing her timid approach, Brandon couldn’t help but chuckle. Turning to Metissa, he remarked, “In the end, we really should thank someone for this.”

“Hmm?” Metissa blinked, surprised.

“For bringing us good fortune,” Brandon turned sharply, swiftly pinching Roma’s soft cheeks between his fingers. “Isn’t that right, Roma?”

“Ah! Ow, ow, ow, Brandon… I won’t dare again…” Roma winced, tears welling up in her eyes as she hastily apologized. “Sorry, sorry…”

Her tiny brows furrowed in pain, torn between pulling away and enduring the pinch. She squirmed awkwardly, unsure what to do.

Brandon glanced at the old dwarf, then back at Roma. “Will you ever run off recklessly again?”

“No… no, I won’t…” Roma stammered, her eyes darting left and right.

Brandon sighed inwardly, knowing full well she wouldn’t change. Still, he resolved to keep her close wherever he went; otherwise, another incident like this would be unbearable.

Releasing her, he exhaled deeply.

At the same moment, the surrounding light dimmed drastically, plunging them into pitch-black darkness—

“What’s going on?” Roma’s voice rang out nervously.

“Nothing,” Brandon replied calmly, sensing the environment around them. “We’ve returned.”

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