Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C127

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Chapter 127: Wind Circlet – Part 2

The elder remained silent, weighing his thoughts carefully. The name Valhalla stemmed from an ancient legend—a mythical realm within the Wind Circlet, said to be the resting place of heroes and the repository of one of Vonder’s primal embers.

Igniting that ember would restore order to the Kalanja Peninsula, potentially creating a vast sanctuary akin to the empire of Cruze.

For generations, the druids of the Witherwood Council had guarded this secret, their ceaseless quest to penetrate the mysteries of the Wind Circlet driven by the desire to uncover the truth behind its extraordinary atmospheric currents.

Yet, Valhalla remained elusive—both present and absent. Countless druids had ventured beyond the outer reaches of the Wind Circlet into the Kalanja Mountains, only to return empty-handed.

Their sole discovery was the ruin near the center of the Wind Circlet. But the elder knew well that Andrew and his companions had only explored the periphery of the ruin. The heart of the site lay within the storm zone—the central region of the Wind Circlet, an area no one had ever breached.

Reflecting on this, the elder raised his gaze to Brandon. “Brandon, I presume Elder Gray Crow has already informed you of the recent changes in the Wind Circlet?”

Brandon nodded. The fluctuations in the Wind Circlet were tied to the ebb and flow of magic energy tides—a phenomenon that had persisted for some time.

“However,” the elder continued gravely, “the truth is far more troubling than what he has shared.”

Brandon remained silent, observing the seventeen druidic elders before him. Including Gray Crow, there were eighteen—likely all the elders of the Sky Ring in this region, including the three Great Druids. He began to grasp the significance of their gathering.

The druids were facing a grave challenge—one serious enough to drive them to seek his assistance, despite their usual aloofness.

Yet, Brandon did not exploit the situation to make unreasonable demands. Instead, he simply nodded in acknowledgment.

The elder seemed pleased with Brandon’s modesty, interpreting it as a sign that this human might indeed be worth trusting. “The Wind Circlet,” he began, “is a colossal atmospheric current originating at the eastern edge of the Kalanja Peninsula and encircling the Kalanja Mountains. It is the most magnificent natural phenomenon in southern Vonder. On clear days, its white cloud wall can be seen stretching across the horizon, even from Tonygel and Flada, hovering like a distant curtain over the southern skies of Eruin.”

“The Geographical Annals of Lantonilan, Master Tullamane’s work,” Brandon remarked, slightly surprised. He had assumed the druids were entirely detached from the civilized world, but it seemed they maintained some contact, albeit discreetly.

The elder nodded. “The Sky Ring is a loose organization. Druids pursue their own tasks, monitoring the movements within the Black Forest for generations. Our Witherwood Council, in particular, has safeguarded the secrets of the Wind Circlet for centuries.”

Turning his gaze upward through the canopy, the elder looked toward the immense white cloud wall spanning the southern horizon. The towering clouds stretched over ten thousand meters high, extending endlessly east and west. Birds soared against the backdrop of the sky, appearing as mere specks in the distance.

“The Black Forest south of Tonygel has long been known among the Sky Ring as the wildest frontier closest to civilization. It is one of the most stable regions surrounding the Black Forest in all of Vonder.”

“Not only does Tonygel’s border rarely suffer monster attacks, but even areas deeper into the forest’s edge are scarcely troubled by such threats.”

Brandon nodded in agreement. The elder spoke the truth; this section of the Black Forest was renowned for its relative gentleness. Otherwise, players from Eruin would never have dared to venture here during the early days of exploration, nor could they have achieved the feat of penetrating deep into the Kalanja Mountains so swiftly.

“Is this stability due to the Wind Circlet?” the young lord inquired.

His question startled not only the elder but also the other seventeen druids, including Gray Crow, who stared at him in disbelief.

“How do you know?” the elder asked.

“During our month in the Black Forest, we encountered two thunderstorms, one snowfall, eleven days of clear weather, three days of scorching heat reminiscent of midsummer, and the rest were overcast,” Brandon replied calmly, unfazed by their astonishment. “We experienced a week where daylight lasted less than six hours and a single day without night.”

“This is the Black Forest. The deeper you venture, the more pronounced these anomalies become, defying all logic.”

“And yet, amidst this chaotic wilderness, there exists an eternal atmospheric current—the Wind Circlet. Each year, the trade winds bring abundant rainfall to the Kalanja Peninsula. Does this not suggest an underlying order?”

He fixed his gaze on the elder.

Clatter! The elder’s staff slipped from his hand and rolled onto the floor. Yet, he made no move to retrieve it, instead staring at Brandon with a complex expression. “…You truly understand this place.”

“Yes, as you suspected,” the elder paused before continuing. “We discovered over a century ago that the Wind Circlet stabilizes the region’s order. But recently, that balance has shifted.”

“What happened?” Brandon pressed.

“Something unusual has occurred within the Wind Circlet, Brandon. Areas we once traversed easily have grown perilous. The forest teems with danger, and the ancient trees no longer guide us. Inside… inside…” the elder hesitated, searching for the right words. “It feels as though a thick fog has enveloped everything. You can see nothing, hear nothing.”

“Is that all?”

“No. In recent weeks, those who ventured into the forest were attacked. Some were injured, though fortunately, no lives were lost.”

Brandon absorbed this information. “So, you fear this is a harbinger. The Wind Circlet’s power is waning, and if it collapses, the stabilizing force of the Kalanja Peninsula will vanish. The rampant magic energy from the great tides will ravage the region, even affecting Tonygel and turning this once-protected land into a wasteland?”

Brandon’s words struck a nerve. The elder’s face darkened as he nodded solemnly.

Their concerns were valid. The Kingdom of Eruin lacked the strength to address such an issue. Should the Kalanja Peninsula undergo catastrophic change, both Tonygel and the broader Jandel region could regress into untamed wilderness.

“You are correct,” Brandon mused after a moment. “But this problem is not unsolvable.”

“There’s a solution?” Andrew blurted out, incredulous. After weeks of deliberation among the elders yielding no results, how could this young man claim to resolve the issue so casually?

He eyed Brandon skeptically, wondering if the lord was merely boasting.

“I find it strange,” Brandon replied. “If you are aware of the great tides, how could you not understand their connection to this phenomenon?”

“You mean…” the elder gasped. “The weakening of the Wind Circlet is caused by the great tides?”

“When one grows stronger, the other weakens. Isn’t that obvious?”

“But wait, Brandon,” the elder interjected. “The last few great tides occurred within the past century, and the Magic Moon never wielded such influence before.”

Brandon slapped his forehead, realizing the source of their misunderstanding. “You don’t know about the Millennium Tide?”

“What is that?”

“A super tide occurring once every thousand years. The last one ended the Year of Chaos, and the next is imminent. Clearly, the Wind Circlet is being affected by it.”

The druids no longer doubted Brandon’s sincerity. Their expressions shifted, reflecting newfound respect.

“I remember now,” Andrew exclaimed. “When we were in Cold Fir, you mentioned something similar, Lord Brandon. You said, ‘This era is nearing its end; the peak of the Magic Moon approaches. The last magic tide ended the Age of Chaos. What this one will bring, no one knows. Attempting to suppress the growth of the Black Forest under such conditions is a futile endeavor.’”

The burly druid groaned in frustration. “Damn it! At the time, I thought you were referring to an ordinary Magic Moon tide. I didn’t realize…”

Brandon regarded the assorted druids curiously. “But surely you consulted others within the Sky Ring? Though your organization is loose, doesn’t it have a headquarters in the sanctuaries? Aren’t countless records from past eras preserved there? Is there truly no one who knows of the great tides?”

“It’s as you say,” the elder replied. By now, he was unsurprised by Brandon’s knowledge of druidic secrets. He suspected the young man might have ties to their order. “We rely on the trade winds to relay messages, and a round trip takes at least a season. But the next season is spring—the season of the goddess. By the time we receive a response, it will already be summer.”

“I see,” Brandon nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “Let us return to the matter at hand. How can we address this issue? If we must wait until summer, I’m afraid I cannot afford that much time.”

“What solution do you propose, Lord Brandon?” the elder asked, adjusting his tone.

“There is no elaborate solution,” Brandon replied. “Only the principle of remaining steadfast amidst change.”

“You mean…?”

“Valhalla.”

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