Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C83

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Chapter 83: Ambush

By late autumn and the onset of winter, the land of had grown desolate. The trees stood bare, their skeletal branches clawing at the sky like the limbs of a monstrous beast lurking on either side of the road.

The rhythmic clatter of hooves echoed from afar as eleven riders emerged through the thick, white mist, breaking into the stillness of the frost-laden morning. To conserve their mounts' strength, the riders kept their horses at a steady trot but refrained from galloping. They still had over a hundred miles to cover before reaching , and they needed to manage their resources carefully.

All except one rider—a figure cloaked in black, carrying a long, wrapped bundle on his back—were fully armed. Swords and crossbows glinted intermittently beneath their long cloaks as the knights remained vigilant, scanning their surroundings with practiced precision. The early winter forest was cold and barren, yet wolves still prowled within its depths.

Pressing onward, the group soon arrived at a small river. The water, not yet frozen, shimmered under the pale light of dawn. A solitary stone bridge spanned the banks, its surface slick with frost. But just as they approached, the lead knight abruptly raised his hand, signaling the others to halt.

The riders reined in their horses, their eyes darting around cautiously. The leader lowered his hand and gestured to the left and right—indicating an ambush. Drawing his sword, he turned his horse, prompting the others to form a tight defensive circle around the central figure. Their movements were seamless, a testament to their rigorous training. Even ’s finest scout cavalry couldn’t match such discipline.

But as the knights shifted into formation, the forest erupted with movement. From the bushes on both sides emerged a band of mercenaries clad in leather armor, each wielding weapons—battle-axes, small round shields, or crossbows. Realizing they had been spotted, the ambushers prepared to charge.

Yet the knights acted first. Without hesitation, they unslung their hand crossbows and fired. Several attackers stumbled out of the underbrush onto the road, only to be struck down by precise shots. The knights’ marksmanship was impeccable; their bolts found throats and vital points, felling foes with lethal efficiency. Bodies began to pile up in a rough circle around them.

Eruin cavalry relied on rapid-fire crossbows, but ammunition was limited. Recognizing this, the mercenaries let out a war cry and surged forward after five volleys. But the knights remained calm. With swift, coordinated motions, they flung back their cloaks and hurled hand axes into the advancing horde. Screams filled the air as birds startled awake, taking flight from the surrounding trees.

The sudden counterattack devastated the front ranks of the ambushers.

“Charge! They’re out of weapons!”

“Don’t let them reload!”

But the stench of blood in the crisp morning air only fueled the mercenaries’ frenzy. Outnumbering the knights nearly ten to one, they believed sheer force would overwhelm their opponents. Enraged by the knights’ cool efficiency, the attackers surged forward, intent on turning the battle into a chaotic melee.

They soon realized their mistake.

Their adversaries were far stronger than anticipated. As one, the knights drew their swords, and the tide of battle shifted dramatically. Silver flashes of steel wove through the air, forming an impenetrable web that the charging mercenaries crashed into. Blood sprayed, limbs flew, and bodies collapsed, creating a macabre rainstorm for those behind.

The ambushers were utterly stunned. They had been told their targets were merely a squad of kingdom cavalry—but no one mentioned that every single knight possessed peak silver-rank strength. Initially, the mercenaries charged forward with reckless momentum, but their morale crumbled within moments. Before they could close the distance, nearly a third of their number lay dead. As the adrenaline faded, fear took hold. Without needing further encouragement, they scattered, fleeing faster than they had come—perhaps twice as fast.

The skirmish ended swiftly.

The lead knight paused, inhaling deeply despite the metallic tang of blood in the air. He raised his hand to halt any pursuit. This was merely the latest in a string of ambushes they had faced along their journey. Chasing stragglers was futile; there were no valuable targets to capture, and their mission remained paramount.

All the knights dismounted briefly to inspect the area. They wiped their blades clean on the corpses before sheathing them. The entire process was conducted in silence, broken only by the soft snorts of their horses.

The leader’s gray eyes swept across the battlefield, taking in the sprawl of bodies. None of the mercenaries bore insignias identifying their allegiance, nor did they carry banners. They resembled bandits more than soldiers—though bandits were rarely so disciplined.

Pulling back his hood, the leader revealed the gaunt, pale face of a middle-aged man. He glanced behind him toward the rider they were escorting. The cloaked figure tapped the long, black bundle strapped to his back, signaling it was safe. Then, pulling down his own mask, he revealed the youthful visage of someone would recognize instantly.

Though the viscount’s appearance had changed significantly over the past month—he had grown thinner, his complexion paler, and his emerald-green eyes burned with feverish intensity—his identity was unmistakable.

“Safe,” Teste croaked, his voice raspy and strained, as though speaking required immense effort.

If Brandon had been present, he might have been startled by the transformation.

“Who sent these men?” the older man asked, gesturing to the fallen mercenaries.

“’s men,” Teste replied hoarsely.

“The old man? I thought he was courting our favor.”

“All nobles are two-faced,” Teste sneered, his tone bitter. “Don’t trust me—I’m no different. Given the chance, I’d stab you in the back.”

The older man chuckled. “Interesting. But don’t worry—I only trust my men.”

Teste snorted dismissively, pulling his hood back up to continue the journey. However, his body froze mid-motion. A flash of green light caught his eye from the forest, and his already pale face turned ashen.

“Behind you,” he rasped urgently, lowering his hood to warn the knight.

The leader whirled around, but too late. A beam of green light struck his chest. Before he could comprehend the nature of the sorcery, his expression froze permanently. Teste watched in horror as the cavalry captain transformed into a lifeless stone statue before his very eyes.

That thing had followed them.

Panic surged through the young viscount. One glimpse of the familiar scene confirmed his worst fears. The nightmare that haunted him for weeks had returned, now manifesting in reality. For a fleeting moment, he considered fleeing, but his limbs felt rooted to the spot, paralyzed by terror.

Then, from the forest emerged a figure clad head-to-toe in emerald-green armor. Every knight froze, stunned by what they had witnessed. Though they understood their captain’s fate, the bizarre nature of the attack defied comprehension. Uncertainty gripped them—how should they respond?

Defend against it? Yet none dared claim they knew how to counteract such a mysterious green light. Retaliate for their captain’s demise? But who could gauge the enemy’s true power?

For a moment, the knights stood immobilized.

The showed no mercy. Step by deliberate step, he advanced, his target clear: Teste, shielded at the center of the formation.

Faced with the knight’s inexorable approach, the young viscount—despite possessing early gold-rank strength—found himself utterly paralyzed, unable to move or even utter a sound.

“You…” Teste managed to choke out a single syllable before one of the knights finally snapped, lunging at the jade knight with his sword. Effortlessly, the armored figure parried the blow and sent both rider and horse flying into a nearby black pine. The impact silenced the attacker permanently.

This display shocked the remaining knights back into action. Recognizing the foe, they shouted in unison and charged, their blades flashing toward the enemy. Yet their strikes never connected. Each sword was deflected by a faint green aura surrounding the knight’s armor.

Top-grade magical armor.

A collective weight settled over the group. Such armor boasted formidable magical defenses capable of repelling not only spells but also physical attacks. In Eruin, these suits were rare artifacts crafted during the by . Possessors of such gear were never ordinary individuals.

As the knights speculated about their adversary’s identity, none realized their time was running out. Teste, unable to warn them, could only watch as their swords—and even enchanted ones—began petrifying. Horrified, some knights dropped their weapons, but it was futile. One by one, the knights turned to stone, standing motionless along the road.

Teste felt his sanity teetering on the brink. Yet when the jade knight finally stepped before him, he discovered—to his surprise—that he hadn’t gone mad. Though he wished desperately that this were all a dream.

The jade knight approached his horse, raising his head to stare at Teste. Silent and unmoving, he neither spoke nor attacked, simply standing there, an ominous presence looming ever closer.

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