Abyss System The Rise of the Lord-Chapter 109 hidden dangers

Now it was the world’s turn.

The night had passed and the sun was rising, yet Zaber hadn’t been able to sleep, lost in those thoughts. He had already examined the variants that were approaching and those that might still come, preparing himself in some way for what lay ahead.

Zaber stood by the window, looking down.

Below, a warrior lifted his head. His eyes met Zaber’s for a single moment—then quickly dropped.

Out of respect? Out of fear? It didn’t matter.

To Zaber, both were equally useful tools.

The door behind him opened quietly.

Larden entered with soft, almost soundless steps.

As always—calm. No footfall. That same immeasurable depth in his eyes.

"The city isn’t quiet today," he said.

Zaber didn’t turn.

"I felt it too," he replied.

Larden walked to the balcony window and looked down.

"Three groups. They entered last night."

Zaber’s gaze didn’t waver—as though he had already known.

"From which direction?"

"Eastern gate. Their documents are clean. But their ranks are high. They didn’t come here for nothing."

A moment of silence settled, heavy and thick.

In a slow, composed voice, Zaber said:

"Still four years left. And already, with just a few days to go, thousands are gathering?"

Larden looked straight into his eyes.

"More than you think."

Zaber smiled inwardly.

So—countless creatures and countless people. And that means countless souls. Never before have I been so pleased to carry this spiritual chain inside me, he thought.

Below, the formation dispersed.

Then the city bell rang out—doong, doong, doong—three times.

Emergency assembly.

The bell only sounded for monster attacks or major announcements.

Zaber turned.

"Things are getting interesting."

Larden watched him in silence.

"Will you go?"

"Of course."

In the central square of the city, a wooden platform had been erected. Knights stood in two lines on either side.

A faint pressure appeared in the air.

The right-hand man of the city governor—an older man with white hair and a hard gaze—stepped forward.

"The reason I’ve gathered you here today..."

A foreign black mana has been detected within city territory.

"The assessment is still ongoing. However..."

He paused for a breath.

"However—this is not ordinary. The quantity is significant."

"They present themselves as an independent group. Their goals and capabilities are unknown. Therefore I ask everyone to remain vigilant."

The crowd fell silent. Then, suddenly, murmurs of panic began to ripple through the people. Some whispered in fear; others—fighters and adventurers—quietly calculated how much more coin they might earn, how quickly they could accept quests.

The governor glanced around with suspicion.

"But there is no need to panic. Last night, an elite knight was dispatched from the western ridge—Lady Aurora Noir."

He gestured to the side, making space.

Aurora Noir ascended the stairs unhurriedly—white sword in hand, clad in a compact white-and-gold-trimmed outfit, face expressionless.

She faced the crowd and spoke:

"My name is Aurora Noir. I am one of the elite knights of the Kingdom of Lanois. There is only one thing I ask of you: trust us, and stand with us."

The crowd was momentarily stunned by the brevity of the speech, exchanging glances.

A second passed.

Then the governor’s right-hand man stepped forward, clapped once, and said loudly:

"Your presence among us is an honor, my lady."

The crowd joined in with cheers and applause. Some felt relieved—safety assured by the presence of an elite knight. Others felt disappointed—no big payout after all.

At that moment Zaber was watching from the roof of a well-positioned five-story building. Only his head was visible above the edge.

He gathered his thoughts.

This girl—no, this woman. Her words: two sentences, one surface meaning, and ten hidden layers beneath. I think I’m starting to like this woman.

Even though Zaber had long since lost the ability to sense mana in the usual way, down below Aurora suddenly seemed to feel something. She lifted her head toward the rooftop.

Zaber quickly ducked out of sight, his thoughts tangling.

What was that? Did she sense me? Impossible, he whispered to himself.

Aurora narrowed her eyes slightly.

Even in daylight, someone is watching. Her confidence is not unfounded. Hiding one’s presence so perfectly... that’s a problem, she thought.

The governor’s aide turned to her.

"Is something wrong, my lady?"

"No, nothing," she replied, then looked back at the crowd.

"I will return now. If anything happens, inform me."

She descended the stairs slowly. The governor’s aide nodded—"Very well, my lady"—and remained with the people.

Outside the city. Deep in the forest.

Three cloaked figures stood together.

One of them spoke:

"We must seize control of this city."

Another joined:

"We need to act faster. In the four years remaining, cleansing the city completely and settling our own people won’t be easy."

They began walking slowly toward the city. In the distance, the stone walls came into view.

The third one smiled faintly.

"When we accomplish this, the reward will be worthy," he whispered.

Zaber, however, was in no hurry.

He descended, blending into the crowd.

As he moved through the bustling streets, his curiosity about Aurora only grew. Something about the Golden Swamp, something he had seen in her, and other strange fascinations.

From the outside—he looked calm, cold, lifeless eyes, long black hair tied back.

He stopped.

In front of him was a small shop. In the windows—glass bottles, colors, bleaching powders, bundles of whitened silk.

"Dye."

He stepped inside.

Inside the shop the air was sharp—plants, chemicals, a faint metallic edge.

The shopkeeper looked up.

"What color?"

Zaber didn’t hesitate.

"Black."

As the man took out a container, he asked:

"Need to bleach it first?"

"No."

Zaber tossed coins onto the counter. No words. No questions.

Holding the dye, he paused for a moment.

He looked into the mirror.

Eyes unchanged. Gaze cold. But the hair—starting to turn white.

"Attention is danger."

Changing the color was simple caution. Or perhaps an attempt to forget the past. Even Zaber himself didn’t have a clear reason.

He sealed the container and returned to the inn.

Alone in his room, he opened it.

The smell of the dye carried a strange heaviness. With cool, deliberate movements, he began.

No bleaching—just straight application.

Black mingled among the strands.

Time stretched before the mirror.

The liquid slowly soaked in.

He rinsed the drips, dried the hair, and sat on the bed.

Now he looked different.

The same dragon.

But cast in a different shadow.

Changing identity had already become difficult long ago. What further changes the road ahead would demand—he still didn’t know.

He ran his hand through his hair.

Light.

Quiet.

Not new—but renewed.

Yet his thoughts were darker than the dye.

Larden.

Master.

Guide.

Or...

Observer.

He walked to the window. The sun was high. The city glowed golden.

He is not here by chance either.

The thought had not come for the first time today.

A former warrior who abandoned the world. Yet he knows secrets of this level.

An ordinary fighter wouldn’t know.

An ordinary mentor wouldn’t know.

That means he’s here for the Core as well.

The conclusion was logical.

The Core—opportunity to raise one’s level.

Level—opportunity to extend life.

In this world, strength meant a longer lifeline.

Weakness—a short one.

Strength—an elongated line.

He wants to lengthen his own line.

Natural.

For me—dangerous.

Zaber narrowed his eyes.

If he wants the same thing... then he wants something from me too. He cannot be fully trusted.

The question weighed heavier.

He knows things I don’t—and yet he teaches me.

Knows—and watches.

Knows—and guides.

"Why?"

Several possibilities.

First: profit.

If Zaber fails to reach the Core, Larden takes it.

Second: he simply wants to leave an heir. Who would want all that knowledge to vanish with his name?

Third...

I am a tool.

The thought landed heavily.

If the Core cannot be taken directly.

If it must pass through someone.

If one being becomes a bridge to another.

Zaber fell silent.

The air was warm.

The city calm.

But inside him—a storm was rising.

What does he want?

The question remained unanswered—and that was what disturbed him most.

Larden never spoke completely. Only what was necessary.

Zaber leaned against the window.

If he is testing me...

Then this game has two sides. And more players than he had imagined.

He looked inward.

Fear?

No.

Doubt?

Yes.

Better than blind trust.

Three possibilities.

Three shadowed probabilities.

Which one is real?

Perhaps all of them.

In the sunlight, the new color glinted.

Gray—between black and white.

Neither good nor evil.

Just like me.

Not for darkness, not for light—only for myself.

In between.

Adaptation.

Another thought surfaced inside him.

If he lives for the Core too... then our paths will collide at one point.

Inevitable.

At that moment, a knock came at the door.

Larden.

He entered.

His eyes fell on the hair for a moment.

He said nothing.

Only:

"You dyed it?"

"White didn’t suit me."

Silence.

Then, in a slightly more serious tone:

"It doesn’t matter. But I told you to stay away from that girl. You’re not doing the exercises to understand the essence of the Golden Swamp. Don’t forget that."

"Alright, old man. I’m learning from her—and I haven’t gotten close either."

A faint, almost invisible smile touched Larden’s lips.

"Good, boy. I’ll be leaving this city for a while. Until then, you train on your own."

Silence.

"Fine."

Larden looked toward the window.

"That group leaves today."

"I know."

"It’s dangerous for you."

"I know."

"Are you ready?"

Without hesitation Zaber answered:

"Always."

"Being ready and being ready are very different things," Larden said. "You need to be ready."

A faint tremor inside Zaber.

He hid it, keeping the cold composure on his face.

"You know far too much."

"Enough."

"Where from?"

As always—Larden gave no answer.

That was the answer.

After he left, the room fell quiet again.

What if I’m necessary to him?

That possibility existed too.

The Core was complex.

Its mechanism unknown.

Perhaps it cannot be done alone.

Perhaps two minds, two flows, two powers are required.

If that’s the case... then he needs me too.

The thought brought a cold comfort.

Better to be necessary than to be prey.

The sun was beginning to descend.

Day was ending.

The color had changed.

The city had not.

Zaber opened his eyes.

In the mirror, a young man with long black hair stared back.

Zaber remained silent, gazing at his reflection.

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