Abyss System The Rise of the Lord-Chapter 89 entrance to the city of Divorn

Zaber walked in silence.

His footsteps barely touched the soil, producing almost no sound—as though he were gliding rather than stepping. The forest gradually thinned. Though the smell of smoke from behind had slowly faded, the scent of blood and ash still clung stubbornly to his clothes.

As he moved forward, his thoughts flowed in chaotic streams.

This battle...

He analyzed it instinctively.

"I’ve become considerably better," he thought with cold detachment.

Soul power. Reaction speed. Bodily control. All noticeably stronger.

There were several wounds: a gash across his shoulder, a dull ache beneath his ribs, a cut on his leg, minor tremors in the muscles from smaller injuries. None of them slowed him down. On the contrary.

Right now... right now he was in the best condition of his life.

Zaber did not deny it.

"I’m ready for the fights in Divorn," the calm realization settled in his mind.

It was not arrogance. It was conclusion.

A soft movement pressed against his chest.

The kitten.

It was quiet. Sometimes its tail flicked lightly; sometimes it pressed closer, seeking warmth against his clothing. Its tiny heart beat steadily.

Zaber glanced down.

"You’re not afraid," he said quietly.

The kitten gave no reply. It simply looked up at him with those amber eyes. In that gaze there was neither trust nor question—as though this entire situation felt perfectly natural to it.

Zaber returned his eyes to the path ahead.

The forest ended, opening onto an old road. Wheel ruts between the stones, dry grass, distant ridges rising on the horizon.

Toward Divorn.

There would be battles there. Blood. Rewards. And most importantly—a place to truly test strength.

Zaber continued walking.

At the roadside lay a broken signpost. Once it must have marked a boundary. Now it was only a rotting piece of wood.

He stepped past it.

And in that instant...

A single moment.

Only a single moment.

Something in the air changed.

Zaber did not stop. He did not even slow his pace. But inside, a cold alertness awakened. Instinct—but toward what?

"Not the wind," he assessed.

The surroundings were utterly still. Too still.

No birdsong. No insects. Even the leaves seemed to have ceased whispering.

Zaber kept walking.

But now every step was deliberate.

He noticed the shadow at the edge of the road. Not a tree’s shadow. Not a boulder’s. A short, dark silhouette that appeared for a fraction of a second before vanishing again.

He did not turn to look.

"If you’re watching..." he thought, "...then you’re not yet ready to attack."

The kitten let out a very low, almost imperceptible growl.

Zaber placed his palm on its back. The motion was soothing; his fingers gently scratched under its chin. The vibration seemed to please the little creature—it began to purr softly.

"Interesting," he murmured.

Ahead, the road forked in two directions.

Which path? he wondered briefly.

Zaber chose the right one.

A faint smile touched his lips.

"Let’s trust in luck and see what comes," he said under his breath.

He continued along the chosen road.

Zaber walked calmly down the path. The kitten followed, sometimes darting ahead, sometimes falling behind only to trot quickly and catch up again. Its small paws stirred faint dust from the road; the gentle flick of its tail softened the surrounding silence just a little.

Zaber looked straight ahead. In the distance, massive walls appeared. Between them stood a thick, almost petrified iron gate, rusted yet imposing. The sun was slowly rising above the horizon, illuminating the road. Its light slid across the walls, revealing cracks in the stone and rust.

His wounds ached, but nothing showed on the outside. His breathing remained even, his gait unhurried. In this state—half a day, several hours of steady travel—he finally reached the gate.

Several guards stood before it. Not just two like in the smaller towns—this place was guarded far more seriously. The moment Zaber approached, they blocked his way.

"State your name and the purpose of your visit," one of them ordered.

Zaber looked at them and deliberately softened his voice. He lowered his gaze to the ground.

"I was a merchant..." he said quietly. "But on the way here we were attacked by bandits. My people were killed. I barely escaped with my life."

The guards exchanged glances. Anger and caution mingled on their faces.

One of them stepped forward and raised his voice:

"How many did they kill?"

Zaber lifted his head. His eyes were dull, lifeless.

"When we set out, there were thirteen of us..." he said in a low voice. "Only I reached the destination. My friends, my servants... they held the bandits back so I could escape."

A moment later the guard captain appeared. His tone was calmer than the others’.

"Understood, lad," he said. "You may enter. We’ll deal with the bandits ourselves."

Zaber inclined the upper half of his body slightly in a bow and walked through the gate with slow, measured steps.

Behind him, the guards began to murmur.

"Those damned bandits have gone too far," one of them said.

The captain looked out beyond the gate into the distance.

"They have lives too," he replied. "When we collect taxes we take a great deal from them. Their anger is only natural. Still... next time we’ll take back whatever was taken from this young man."

One of the guards spoke with irritation:

"Captain, look at him. There’s no light left in his eyes—how broken he must be. We have to wipe those bandits out."

The captain watched Zaber’s back and answered:

"We’ll warn them. We’ve turned a blind eye to their looting. But massacring so many... that will not be forgiven this time."

Once inside the gate, Zaber allowed himself a faint, private smile.

They’re far too trusting, he thought. I never expected to pass through so easily without documents.

He looked into the city.

It was enormous. The buildings were tall, many constructed of stone. The streets teemed with people—merchants, soldiers, common folk all mingled together. The ground was paved with flat stones; carts rolled over them.

Zaber walked among the others in quiet anonymity. He made no effort to stand out—his pace neither hurried nor lingering, his gaze never resting too long on any one thing. He observed everything casually: the clothing, the weapons, the expressions on faces, who was alert, who was weary—nothing escaped his notice.

"I need to find an inn," he whispered to himself.

After wandering the city for a short while, he finally came upon one. The building was large and sturdy in appearance. The wooden doors at the front had clearly been opened and closed countless times. From inside came the clamor of voices, laughter, and the clatter of dishes.

Zaber stepped in.

The interior was just as crowded. People sat around tables—some eating, some drinking and talking. Directly opposite the entrance stood a long wooden counter. The far side was screened by a partition with a rectangular opening in the center—for speaking to the innkeeper.

Zaber approached the counter.

"I need a room," he said in a low, clear voice.

The innkeeper smiled. His tone was gentle, his manner polite.

"What kind of room would you like, sir? How many people?" he asked.

Zaber did not hesitate for even a moment.

"One person. A simple room."

The innkeeper reached beneath the counter and produced a key. He twirled it between his fingers and said calmly:

"Three silver coins per night."

Zaber opened the pouch at his waist. He took out three gold coins and placed them on the counter.

"I’ll take it for twelve days," he said. "Do I pay separately for meals?"

The innkeeper collected the coins and handed him the key.

"Breakfast is complimentary, sir," he replied. "Lunch and dinner are served downstairs—you pay separately for those. If you prefer, for an additional fee we can bring them up to your room."

Zaber took the key.

"How much for the meals?"

The innkeeper clasped his hands together, clearly pleased.

"Seven silver coins, sir."

Zaber placed another ten gold coins on the counter.

"Have the meals brought to my room," he said, glancing at the key. "Where is it?"

The innkeeper answered even more courteously:

"Third floor, second room on the left."

Zaber said nothing more. He turned toward the staircase and began to ascend with quiet, measured steps.

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