Abyss System The Rise of the Lord-Chapter 117: chaoter goblin fight

The hidden path beneath the dark forest descended downward among the roots. The smell of damp earth was strong, the air thick and stifling. Zaber followed the tracks and finally found the entrance to the goblin lair — a narrow crevice concealed among the tree roots.

The moment he stepped inside, his breathing changed. This was no ordinary den. Inside lay an extensive cave system: low ceilings, tunnels branching in every direction. And most importantly — movement.

Goblins.

At least thirty of them.

They were not disorganized. They were divided into groups: some on watch, others armed and positioned in the inner circle. At their center stood a larger goblin adorned with crude iron armor-like plates — most likely the leader.

Zaber silently drew his sword.

He did not strike first. He studied the layout.

The left tunnel was narrow — only two goblins could fit through at a time. The right side was wider — but exposed. In the center stood a natural stone pillar.

At that moment they spotted him.

A piercing alarm shriek shook the cavern.

The goblins scattered and attacked — but not directly. They fanned out, attempting to close in from the flanks.

Zaber did not retreat. He turned toward the narrow tunnel.

A tight space.

A place where their numerical advantage could not be used.

The first goblin stabbed low. Zaber twisted his blade, deflecting the thrust, and answered with an elbow strike. The second swung from above — Zaber ducked and sliced across the thigh. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

In the confined space, speed became dominance. Those behind pressed against those in front, slowing movement and causing the leading goblins to rush and separate from one another.

Zaber advanced — not backward, forward. Into their midst.

With three rapid cuts he shattered the front line. But the goblins behind immediately filled the gap. They were learning.

Two goblins climbed the side wall and leaped from above.

Instead of turning back, Zaber sprang toward the wall, gained height, and delivered a spinning strike as he descended.

Two bodies fell at once.

But now he stood in the center. A mistake.

They had formed a circle around him.

Zaber dropped into a low stance. Sword close to the body. Breathing steady.

The first attack had been a feint. The second was real. He waited for the third move.

A stab from the left, a block from the right, a kick to the legs from behind.

He leaped. The rear strike passed through empty air. As he landed, he reversed his grip and cut upward from below.

One hand fell. Two more rushed him simultaneously.

Zaber positioned the stone pillar at his back — now they could only attack from the front.

They advanced. The goblins were no longer panicking.

They moved in rhythm: one attacks, one distracts, the third flanks.

Zaber had to break their rhythm. He suddenly exploded forward.

Three steps. Slash. Elbow. Kick.

In an instant the circle shattered. As their formation broke, chaos erupted within.

But there were still many. From deeper inside the cave came the sound of dozens more approaching footsteps. Now the real battle was beginning.

Zaber moved toward the wider chamber — the narrow space had given him advantage, but here movement was freer. That was dangerous. They could bring their numbers to bear.

The goblins arranged themselves in a half-circle.

The leader goblin stepped forward. Taller than the rest, gripping a heavy iron blade-like weapon. He said nothing, only gestured.

And at once seven goblins attacked.

This was not chess. This was coordination.

Zaber did not meet the first blow — he sidestepped, redirecting the assault.

Two goblins collided into each other.

He slipped through the opening and eliminated them with short, precise cuts.

But this time the goblins did not fall back. They began to press inward.

If Zaber stopped moving — he would be surrounded. So he remained in constant motion.

One strike. Pivot. Leap onto the stone. Drop down.

Every movement was repositioning within the fight.

He felt himself tiring. The goblins were tiring too. But they overwhelmed with numbers.

At one point a heavy blow from behind grazed his shoulder. Warm blood flowed. He ignored the pain.

The leader advanced.

Unlike the others, he moved with patience.

Two rapid exchanges. Metal clashed against metal. He was strong.

Zaber answered not with power, but with angles.

He slipped low, disrupting the leader’s footing.

The leader lost balance. That moment was enough.

Zaber finished the fight with a sweeping circular cut. The remaining goblins hesitated for a single heartbeat. That was their mistake.

Zaber pressed forward. He seized the center. Now they were the ones being forced back.

A few minutes later, only heavy breathing and dripping water remained in the cave.

Thirty-seven goblins. The lair fell silent. Goblin corpses lay with every step. Some were surrounded by small pools of blood.

Zaber lowered his sword. The wound on his shoulder was not deep.

But there was no time. He quickly scanned the interior — weapons, map markings, paths. This lair was not random. This place had been used for a long time.

And then — he heard a sound from outside.

The clear, disciplined clink of metal. Not goblins.

This was orderly marching. Armor. Many. Knights.

They had been searching the forest. And now they were approaching the lair.

Zaber glanced into the dark tunnel ahead. An unknown path lay before him. Behind — the knights.

He gripped his sword tightly once more. Staying here meant encirclement. Going deeper meant unknown danger. The footsteps grew steadily closer.

He had only a few seconds to choose.

117th Chapter (part 3): The Silence of the Cave

Zaber stood motionless deep inside the narrow tunnel. He forced his breathing to slow, striving to make no movement at all. His lips pressed tightly together with small teeth — any noise, any shift of air could draw the knights’ attention. He closed his eyes, reducing his inner presence to the absolute minimum: now he was only an observer. Breath and heartbeat slowed; he felt every tiny sound.

"How long must I hide here?" he asked himself calmly in his mind, but there was no answer. Only darkness and the weight of breathing.

Outside came the sound of metal footsteps. A distant, collective rhythm — reinforced boot soles, mud beneath them, the pressure of disciplined weight. Each step tightened the strings inside Zaber.

Then the voices became clearer:

"Faster! We’re not passing this way — they’re hiding!" one knight said, voice filled with determination and pressure.

"Careful, lads, they don’t forgive the slightest sound," another answered. Even from a distance their voices sounded cold, orderly, and dangerous.

Zaber analyzed every word, every intonation inside himself. He understood: the knights weren’t just charging — they were observing, counting, fixing positions. Dozens of them — their exact number unclear, but they moved as living machinery.

He compressed himself even further: legs, arms, every muscle tightened. Breath — minimal, silent, without sound. Every small movement of air was a risk. Every exhalation could become a signal to the knights.

Before his eyes the length of the tunnel, its height, the walls — everything seemed to grow larger. If a noise came, he would lose himself. Even breathing out felt perilous. At that moment Zaber focused on the ancient cave walls, the smell of wet earth and rotting wood, registering every detail, counting every shadow.

Outside the knights spoke:

"He must be here," one voice said, cold and resolute.

"No, they don’t know this tunnel — they only move forward," another replied.

Their words, their tones pressed on Zaber’s inner world, sinking into his heart. He slowed his breath again, fighting himself: "How long must I hide? How much time will pass?"

A few seconds went by. Footsteps drew nearer. Zaber’s heart beat faster, yet he remained utterly still. Every small sound called to him, every noise could reveal his presence in the cave.

Suddenly he heard: "He has to be here. Be careful." The knights continued their exchange. Their movements were disciplined; they watched one another, coordinated. Each observed the others’ steps, breaths, weapons — everything according to plan.

Zaber tightened his body once more. He knew: one wrong move and it would all end. Here he only wanted to survive. Every breath was secret. Every foot placement was caution. Every glance was surveillance.

Time passed; the knights advanced. They neared the entrance to the lair. They came with numbers and strength, yet orderly. Zaber’s inner sense screamed 100% danger: any mistake here meant destruction.

At that moment he decided: it was time to act. To keep the secret from the knights inside while observing and calculating their movements. He slowed his breathing again. He anticipated their steps. He studied every knight’s motion. Now he only watched, maintaining the lowest possible presence.

And finally the knights reached the central part of the cave. Zaber saw the distant exit tunnel ahead. He decided: leaving this dangerous place was the only path. Behind him the threat continued moving — each one alive, disciplined, and ready to strike.

Zaber felt the danger at his back, but looked forward. Breath, heartbeat, movements — all under control. Sword firmly gripped, he left the narrow passages of the cave.

Outside — cold air, a faint breeze, the edge of the Aurora Forest came into view. Zaber looked ahead and took his first step. Now he would search personally: what awaited him in this forest, where the danger hid. He drew a deep breath and placed his feet on the ground.

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