Abyss System The Rise of the Lord-Chapter 90 exploring the city

Zaber entered the room and gently closed the door behind him. The wooden panel gave a soft creak, then everything fell silent. The noise from outside—voices of people, clatter of dishes, distant rumble of cart wheels—faded behind the thick walls, muffled and remote.

The room was simple. Not large, yet not cramped. A wooden bed leaned against the wall, a small table and single chair beside it. The window was barred; the light filtering through cast the space in soft, muted tones. The floor was clean but worn, emitting a faint creak with every step.

Zaber stood motionless for a moment. He did nothing. He steadied his breathing and listened to his body.

Pain was there. In his shoulder, beneath his ribs, along his leg. But the pain did not control him. On the contrary, it reminded him—he was alive, he had survived the battle, and he had not yet stopped. He set his sword against the table and placed the beehive-shaped artifact beside it.

Slowly, he sat and removed his boots. He placed his bare feet on the floor and remained still for a while. The kitten slipped in through the window, first glancing around, then padding over to the side of the bed, curling into a tight ball. Its tail wrapped around its body, eyes half-closed.

Zaber watched it.

"You ran off at the gate," he said quietly.

The kitten offered no reply. Only its steady breathing continued—warm, alive.

Zaber moved to the chair. He rested his hands on his knees, lowered his head slightly, and closed his eyes.

He replayed the day inside himself.

The road. The forest. The gate. The guards. The city.

None of it had gone exactly according to plan, yet none of it had slipped beyond his control.

He reflected.

The soul chain—stable. Fuller than before. Its flow smooth, uninterrupted. Adaptation to the body had accelerated. Reaction time had shortened. Muscles responded to commands with greater speed. Breathing—deep, even.

The wounds... merely a matter of time.

Zaber rose, took the water pitcher from the table, and drank slowly. The cold liquid slid down his throat; his body seemed to lighten.

He undressed. The black fabric slid from his skin. The wounds were exposed. Some still red and raw, others already beginning to scab. He pressed a hand to his shoulder, then to the spot beneath his ribs. A faint thought crossed his mind: Have I put on a little weight?

"Good," he said to himself.

He sat on the edge of the bed and remained motionless for a time. Breathing in, breathing out. Letting his body relax.

This was rest.

Some time later, a soft knock came at the door.

"Sir," a voice called from outside. "Your meal."

Zaber opened his eyes.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened. The attendant entered carrying a tray. The scent of hot food filled the room: bread, soup, meat. Simple, yet nourishing.

"Set it on the table," Zaber instructed.

The attendant did so, bowed slightly, and left.

Zaber regarded the food. He paused for a moment. Then, with calm, deliberate movements, he began to eat. He did not rush. He chewed each bite, feeling how his body accepted it.

The kitten caught the scent, lifted its head, and slowly approached.

Zaber tore off a piece of meat and placed it on the floor.

"Eat this," he said.

The kitten sniffed, then began to eat—carefully, not hastily.

Silence settled over the room. Only the faint clink of utensils and the kitten’s soft chewing could be heard.

After the meal, Zaber washed his hands. He dressed again but did not lie on the bed. Instead he sat on the chair and gazed out the window.

The city was alive.

People walked. Trade continued. Guards changed shifts. This place was not yet a battlefield. Not yet.

Zaber accepted it.

No battle today.

Today, strength would gather.

He closed his eyes and let his body go slack. He slowed his breathing.

Several hours passed in this state.

The aches in his body gradually dulled. The tremors in his muscles vanished. His breathing deepened further.

Zaber opened his eyes.

The kitten lay asleep on the bed, tail draped over its face, peaceful.

Zaber stood. He opened the window. Fresh air entered. The sun had climbed a little higher.

"Good," he said again.

Today he would not explore the city. Today he would ask no questions. Today he would speak to no one.

Today, body and mind would come into alignment.

He lay on the bed. Closed his eyes. This time he slept.

Deep, undisturbed sleep.

How long he lay like that was unknown.

When Zaber awoke, soft light filled the room. Sunlight from the window stretched across the floor and slid along the wall. The city was awake, yet the noise had not yet reached this chamber.

He remained lying for a moment.

He listened to his body.

Muscles that had been tense with power now felt softer, more supple. The gash on his shoulder had scabbed over; the stab beneath his ribs was noticeable only on deep breaths; the wound on his leg registered only when he pressed weight on it.

Zaber rose. He walked to the window and looked out. On the street below, people moved. Merchants opened their stalls, soldiers changed watch, ordinary folk went about their daily tasks.

This city was alive.

"I need to walk around," he murmured.

The kitten stirred. It stretched first, then leaped from the bed and came to his feet. Its tail flicked lightly, signaling it was ready to follow.

Zaber straightened his clothes. The black, lightweight garment fit his body perfectly. He tied his hair back and stepped out. He hooked the key to his belt and closed the door.

He descended the stairs and left the inn.

The city swallowed him.

The streets were crowded. Everywhere smells—fresh bread, roasted meat, spices, sweat, dust. Sounds blended together: haggling, laughter, shouts, the clang of metal.

Zaber moved among the people like an ordinary traveler. He did not hurry his steps, yet he stood out—black attire, sword at his side, long hair tied back, expressionless face. Anyone dressed like a dark assassin with an impassive gaze would draw attention, but his eyes never lingered long on anyone; he always sensed everything around him. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

First, he needed to find a healer.

He walked the streets, glancing at various stalls. Weaponsmiths, armorers, jewelers, vendors of enchanted items. Finally, in a narrower alley, a wooden sign caught his eye. On it was painted a glass vial and a green emblem.

A healer.

He stepped inside.

The shop was small but orderly. Shelves lined with bottles of various colors. Some dim, some clear, a few seeming to emit their own faint light. The air carried a sharp yet pleasant scent.

Behind the counter stood a middle-aged man. His hair was beginning to gray; his eyes were keen.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

Zaber wasted no words.

"A healing elixir," he said shortly.

The healer turned to the shelves, took down several bottles, and slid one toward Zaber. The liquid inside was pale green and moved slowly.

"This one is good," he said. "For internal and external injuries. It won’t fully restore you, but it will help your body recover faster."

"The price?" Zaber asked.

"Ten gold."

Zaber’s tone carried displeasure.

"Too expensive. I’ll give three gold."

The seller did not hesitate.

"Boy, this is the most essential thing on a battlefield. You think your life is worth only three gold? Final price—nine gold."

Zaber narrowed his eyes.

"If I risk my life to earn money and then spend it all on this one thing, what am I even working for? Five gold."

The seller immediately countered.

"Seven gold. Last offer."

Zaber reached into his pouch, counted out several gold coins, and placed them in the old man’s hand.

"Six coins. Otherwise I leave right now."

The seller looked at the coins, remained silent for a moment, then sighed.

"You’ve convinced me. Now get lost."

Zaber took the elixir and turned toward the door.

The seller raised a hand.

"One more thing—"

"After drinking it, do not make any sudden movements for half an hour. And do not take it with food."

Zaber nodded. He left the shop and found a quiet spot nearby—a stone ledge at the edge of the street. The kitten followed and sat beside him, looking around.

Zaber uncorked the bottle.

The liquid inside was cold. He drank it in one breath.

As the elixir passed down his throat, his body seemed to heat from within. Warmth spread slowly. Shoulder, ribs, leg. The pain flared briefly, then began to recede.

Zaber closed his eyes.

He sat like that for half an hour. Inside, his body was working. The kitten remained quietly by his side.

Then he stood and continued walking.

Zaber wandered the city. Wide squares, narrow alleys, ancient buildings. Life was everywhere. This place was far from battle, yet it was a place where strength gathered.

The elixir’s effect was slow but certain. Pain dulled, muscles lightened. His breathing grew steadier.

"Good," he thought inwardly.

As the day wore on, he returned to the inn. He entered his room and lay on the bed. This time his body relaxed quickly. The elixir had done its work.

Zaber sat on the bed and looked out the window. The sun was beginning to set; the streets had quieted somewhat.

Today was enough.

The kitten came to his chest and curled up.

Zaber gently scratched behind its ears and gazed at it. The kitten responded with a soft purr, vibrating contentedly.

The kitten thought:

When he sent me away, I found him. But after he defeated the bandit leader without hesitation, he silenced the rest just as swiftly. I never imagined such a ruthless person could be so gentle to a creature like me. Fortunately, my artifact is still active; with it, he sees me only as an ordinary cat.

Zaber, unaware of any of this, continued to stroke the kitten as he lay there.

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