Abyss System The Rise of the Lord-Chapter 69 incomprehensible void

Zaber moved away from the guild, deliberately slowing his steps. The document was in his pocket, but its weight was not that of paper—it was something else, an inexplicable heaviness in his heart that words could not describe.

The street gradually narrowed. The bright sounds of the commercial district were left behind; the atmosphere here was different: people spoke less, their gazes lingered longer. In this area, no one hurried—as if rushing would be a mistake.

Zaber stopped.

A sensation rose within him. The feeling of being watched. Zaber had known this since he could remember, and he had grown accustomed to it. He looked around, but there was no one. Nevertheless, he knew he was not alone.

"They are watching," he thought.

It was not fear. It was a warning.

He continued walking.

At that moment, in one of the inner floors of the merchants’ guild—a room Zaber had not seen but that existed—three people sat in silence.

The first was the man who had prepared the document. The second was the guild’s internal security officer. The third... was a stranger. His clothing revealed nobility, but his face bore no insignia—as if he should not be there.

"The document has been delivered," said the first man.

"Was the seal used?" asked the stranger in a calm tone.

"Yes," replied the second. "We also placed the tracking magic."

The stranger nodded.

"Good. He must not know. Not yet."

The first man spoke hesitantly.

"But he... is sensitive. It seemed as if he noticed something in the movement."

The air in the room grew heavier for a moment.

"That is why he is interesting," said the stranger. "Inform the city lord—a sacrifice has been found. We will frame him and execute him."

He stood.

"His existence is strange, but his aura is weak. This is perfect."

"If he is truly not ordinary, he will become a problem for us," said the security officer.

The stranger smiled. The smile was cold.

"When we make him an enemy of the state, the state will handle it itself."

Zaber reached a temporary lodging. It was not an inn, but it was not a bad place either. A two-story building, old but maintained. He rented a room; payment was not demanded. No one asked questions.

Upon entering the room, he closed the door and stood motionless for a moment.

Then he took a deep breath.

"Too much happened today," he said to himself.

He sat on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes. Why... why??? My heart aches without any reason.

There was something strange about the city. In some places the pressure was strong, in others there was emptiness.

"This city is not ordinary," he said in a low voice.

The image of the catgirl came to his mind. Her powerful soul, yet cautious gaze.

"She knows too," said Zaber. "Or at least senses it."

He opened his eyes.

"I will go to the guild again tomorrow," he said firmly. "I need to make someone suffer, then register," he thought.

That night, in another place, Shoyu stood gazing into a mirror. The city lights reflected in her eyes.

"He went to the merchants’ guild," said her companion.

"Good," said Shoyu. "They said he spoke secretly with a guild employee—perhaps more," said the companion cautiously. "He is dangerous."

Shoyu smiled.

"We did not come in search of a safe path," she said. "This is very important. And as a princess, my first victory will be to become queen."

She turned around.

"That man... he will be a problem for us. Or an opportunity."

"Which one?" asked her companion.

Shoyu did not answer. She only said:

"I will speak with him tomorrow. I will determine if he is an ally or an enemy."

Zaber, in his room, took the document in his hand again. He stared at the paper. It felt as if someone was watching from the document. There was no visible seal. But he knew—absence of visibility did not mean absence.

"You placed tracking magic on me, didn’t you?" he said, looking at the document. "You won’t succeed. There are many ways to mislead you."

He slipped the document back into his pocket.

"This will cost you dearly," he said quietly.

Outside, the city sank into the embrace of night; the sky took on a gray hue.

The night seemed to pass slowly, but for Zaber, time had already broken. He sat on the edge of the bed with his eyes closed; neither sleep came nor peace. His heart squeezed again in that strange way—pain was there, but no cause. His breathing grew heavy, his chest tightened.

"Again..." he whispered.

This pain was not from the body. Nor from the soul. As if there was an empty space inside him, but it was not an ordinary void—it was something lost. Something that could not be refilled, could not be found again.

He placed his hand on his chest. His heartbeat was irregular. For a moment, childhood scenes flashed before his eyes: cold palace walls, corridors traversed in secret at night, poisoned meals, false smiles. He had not slept peacefully even at one year old. By five, he recognized the scent of death.

"A hundred times..." he said to himself. "More than a hundred times."

I never thought I could endure it as a child. He stared at his hand, then realized he had endured it. The more he endured, the more something inside him slowly crumbled. The death of his parents, his brother’s betrayal, renouncing friends—these were not the end. They were the beginning.

Zaber slowly rose. His steps were heavy, as if the ground itself was holding him back. He opened the window. The city night was cold. In some places the air was oppressive, in others empty—as if the city itself was breathing unevenly.

"There is something wrong here," he said quietly.

He took the document in his hand again. The paper was small, stiff, unique. Writing, fingerprint, and information... nothing. Nothing visible. But he knew—a seal was there.

Zaber brought the document to the window. Moonlight and starlight fell on the paper’s surface. Nothing changed. He smiled—a cold, mocking smile.

"It is not visible without magic," he said. "But this magic is trash... like this city."

He fell silent for a moment.

"I have seen the magics of the Shadow clan," he whispered. "The difference between this magic and true magic is like coal and diamond."

He looked not at the seal itself, but at its absence. He was disappointed. This was concealment. The most refined form of lie.

"I hate being watched..." he whispered.

At that moment, on the other side of the city, in the hidden room of the merchants’ guild, the sign of the tracking magic flickered slowly. The symbol drawn in magical ink glowed for a moment, then vanished again.

"He examined the document," said the internal security officer in a low voice.

"Did he sense it?" asked the stranger.

"Not fully. But there is suspicion."

The stranger fell silent for a moment. The air in the room grew heavier.

"It does not matter," he said finally. "He seems sensitive. Even if he knows he is being watched, he needs this document badly. And he cannot dispel the magic."

"What if he rises higher?"

"He cannot rise," said the stranger coldly. "The path is already closed."

Zaber slipped the document back into his pocket. His heart ached again. This time stronger. He gritted his teeth.

"Someone... I want someone to save me," he said to himself. He clutched his heart.

Then words burst from within and reached his lips:

Those who took my childhood from me.

Those who stole my dreams.

Those who killed my parents.

"I want revenge," he said quietly. "But revenge is too small for you."

He sat on the chair and closed his eyes. He regulated his breathing. Inside, his father’s words echoed: You are no longer a child.

Zaber suddenly stood and went out into the street. He needed to return to the inn. His steps resembled those of a drunk man—but this drunkenness was not from drink; it was from pain.

At the end of the path, in a dead-end alley, two middle-aged men talking caught his eye. They leaned against the wall, laughing in low voices.

Zaber straightened his posture. Calmness appeared on his face, and he walked toward them.

They looked at Zaber and smiled at each other.

"Look who is coming," they laughed.

Zaber approached them and remained silent for a moment. Then he suddenly punched the man on the right. The blow was strong—the man fell backward.

The one on the left shouted in anger:

"You bastard!"

He clenched his fist and swung. Zaber moved his left leg in a half-circle, countered the blow, and struck the man’s face with the side of his fist. Blood spurted from the man’s nose immediately upon impact. He clutched his nose and retreated.

At that moment, the first man also stood.

"Bastard!" he shouted and threw a punch.

Zaber shifted left, slipping between them. He distanced himself five or six steps. Both ran after him and attacked.

Zaber stopped. He spread his arms to both sides, standing in a T shape.

One of them struck Zaber’s face with all his strength. Zaber staggered back several steps. The taste of blood filled his mouth.

In the next moment, he spread his arms again and looked at them.

The two men smiled at each other.

"Are you crazy?" they said and lunged at Zaber with all their strength.

After several punches, Zaber fell to the ground. The men continued relentlessly—sometimes with feet, sometimes with fists.

Ten minutes later, both were exhausted and began panting.

"Enough," said one. "I am tired."

The second nodded in satisfaction.

"I am tired too. But beating such madmen does not happen every day," he said and kicked Zaber in the face.

Zaber did not move. His face was bloody, his long black hair scattered around his head, bruises forming on his face. His lip was split, blood flowing from his nose. He lay staring at the sky, as if watching the stars was more comfortable in this state.

The night was silent.

Friends, what do you think? Please share your thoughts in the comments. Don’t forget to add this novel to your library. Power Stones and Golden Tickets help Chapters come out faster and give me great motivation