In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Michael looked around as the wind sliced through the sky.

Beneath the dark blue night sky, a massive army of beasts and knights was on the move.

At the very front were Marcus, carrying Michael, and Miaomiao, who bore Duke Capone.

Smooth, dark red scales shimmered faintly in the moonlight.

Each time Marcus flapped his wings, his massive shadow embroidered the night sky.

Miaomiao looked slightly displeased as he carried the Duke.

It was only because he couldn't disrespect the Duke, who had taken to the battlefield in Princess Astrid's stead.

He flicked his tail furiously through the air, clearly frustrated by the burden he had unwillingly taken on.

Michael turned his gaze to the swarm of gargoyles flying around Miaomiao and Marcus, as if forming a protective escort.

The sight of dozens of gargoyles—grown in number through breeding—surrounding them was truly a spectacle.

Gale, leading the charge, looked like a living fortress.

Made of stone and steel, Gale acknowledged Michael with a subtle glance.

At the moment, Duke Ronald was riding on Gale's back.

The Duke wore a satisfied smile as he looked at Gale, a beast both intelligent and easy to communicate with.

Gale had originally carried Dominic, but had been reassigned to Ronald after Siren's intervention.

Not that Gale minded in the slightest.

In the world of beasts, rank transcended all else.

More importantly, Gale had only followed Dominic's orders out of obligation—there was no particular affection involved.

In fact, he much preferred Ronald's disposition.

Duke Ronald radiated authority, showing off the enchanted armor gifted by Dominic.

Each time the horn in his hand sounded, the beast army wheeled in perfect unison.

A curious scene unfolded behind him.

Count Charles sat atop his family's chimera, gazing ahead with a deep sigh as he watched Sir Aaron's behemoth exude a terrifying presence.

The chimera, a Level 4 beast with three heads, was a proud symbol of the count's lineage.

Yet compared to the behemoth soaring ahead, it was nothing.

The gap between a Level 2 and Level 4 beast was as wide as that between a Level 1 and Level 2 beast.

The behemoth's sheer size set it apart.

Towering like a mountain, it cleaved through the air, its massive body a weapon in and of itself.

Its hide was tougher than steel, and the horns and spikes covering its body radiated menace.

But its temperament was the real issue.

The behemoth occasionally growled at the chimera, displaying its aggression.

When its deep gray eyes turned toward the chimera, the smaller beast recoiled.

With its lion ears drooping and wings folding, the chimera slowed, clearly intimidated.

Not that it mattered.

Count Charles, forcing a calm expression, urged his beast to keep pace.

"Haha, why so hesitant? Let's move quickly. The faster we go, the more spoils we can claim," he said breezily, though sweat beaded beneath his collar.

There was only one reason he was enduring this.

Sir Aaron.

Sir Aaron was one of the continent's most renowned warriors and had close ties with Michael.

If Charles could establish a relationship with him, the benefits would be considerable.

So, no matter how much the behemoth growled or how much the chimera faltered, Charles couldn't afford to back down.

And so, the chimera followed behind the behemoth, reluctantly but without choice.

What it really wanted was to ignore this whole war and return home to care for its young.

The chimera let out a sigh.

'The other beasts get paid and raise their offspring with their own hands... Why do I have to live like this?'

It was all because of some unfair contract made by its ancestors.

What kind of fool would bind themselves to a human like that?

It turned its snake head to glare at Count Charles riding on its back.

Having been stirred by the rousing speeches of Miaomiao and Marcus, it couldn't help but feel resentful toward the count.

Behind them flew Marquess Kensington, his face beaming with happiness as he rode a mutated griffon.

Thanks to the dragon blood provided by Michael, the griffon pair he had raised had given birth to this rare variant.

The griffon he rode was truly a marvel.

Normally, griffons had the upper body of an eagle and the lower body of a lion.

But this one had the face and body of a lion, with the wings of an eagle.

The young variant was stunning in every way.

Though smaller than the behemoth, it was larger than the chimera, with a muscular build.

Given how young it was, the potential for further growth was immense.

Its golden mane shone with an almost holy brilliance.

Each feather sparkled like gold, lighting up the night sky.

Its claws were harder than steel, and its flexible joints adapted easily to any training.

Considering its appearance and physical prowess, the young griffon's value was incalculable.

Its eyes were even more impressive—deep, intelligent, and keen.

Every time Marquess Kensington looked at the gleaming wings and powerful frame of his griffon, joy welled up on his face.

Though countless magical beasts had been bred before, none like this had ever been born.

It must have been thanks to Marcus's dragon blood.

"This truly is… my greatest creation."

Perhaps it was the overwhelming joy—

Marquess Kensington unconsciously tightened his grip on the reins.

Startled, the young griffon turned its head and asked,

[What's wrong? Are you uncomfortable somewhere?]

At the sound of that clear, bright voice, Kensington had to fight back tears.

At long last, he had a magical beast he could communicate with!

Silently cheering, the marquess was filled with joy.

How many humiliations had he endured, carrying the stigma of being a mere "beast master"?

With a gentle voice, he calmed the griffon.

"It's nothing. I was just lost in thought for a moment. I'm sorry, Apollo."

His gaze drifted to Michael flying ahead.

My liege, my savior.

Gently stroking the griffon's wing, he vowed—

No matter what happened, he would follow only his lord.

In Elonia, the king and crown prince waited anxiously for Michael's party to arrive.The kingdom had recently replaced the old Pasha Empire in forming a three-nation alliance with Eloniaand Lania.

Knowing full well that Elronia was the weakest link in the alliance, King Henry III was repeatedly urging the cown prince.

"Please, listen to me. Prince Michael's younger sisters are not only intelligent, but also beautiful. Why are you so set on rejecting them?"

Young Crown Prince Edward lowered his head, a shadow over his face.

Ever since learning the truth behind Princess Elise's untimely death, he had come to question royal marriage alliances.

Watching his son's expression, King Henry III clutched his chest in frustration.

He was already sixty-five years old.

His old friend, Charles V, was on the verge of death.

And truth be told, he himself wasn't far from the grave either, his old injuries having turned into chronic ailments.

Suppressing his growing anger, the king tried again to persuade his son.

"Don't be so stubborn... At least meet her once. Who said you must marry right away? You're still young—and so is she."

"I'm not a child!"

Edward snapped, lifting his flushed face.

Though his outburst only made him look more like a child, now was not the time to scold him.

"Yes, yes. That was my mistake. You're of age to be engaged."

Realizing his own misstep, Edward's ears flushed red.

He lowered his head again, this time with a stubborn look.

King Henry III pressed on, relentless.

"You know Prince Michael well, don't you?"

Edward's expression lifted slightly.

The mere mention of Michael was enough to excite him.

He had witnessed Michael's heroic feats and near-supernatural swordsmanship firsthand.

Before he realized it, Edward's voice grew lively.

"Yes! Prince Michael even personally taught me once. He was incredible—absolutely incredible."

His boyish admiration was on full display.

King Henry III let out a silent sigh.

So innocent… How could he ever relax?

Grinding his teeth, the king resolved himself once more.

For the sake of this naïve boy, who seemed likely to be swallowed whole by someone like Michael, he would make this engagement happen—no matter what.

"You would be engaged to someone like that's sister. Wouldn't that bring you even closer?"

Edward hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

He finally voiced a concern—more of a worry than an excuse.

"But… they're only half-siblings. They can't possibly be that close."

Seeing the opportunity, Henry III gently placed a hand on his son's shoulder and replied kindly,

"That's not true at all. If you don't believe me, ask him yourself. Prince Michael isn't a narrow-minded man. He shows no favoritism—he loves his half-sister, Princess Elizabeth, and his younger sisters just the same. Their sibling bond is well-known throughout Xercec."

Edward's mouth parted slightly.

Was that really true?

If so...

After a long moment of thought, he gave a small nod.

"Then... I'll wait until the victory celebration after the war to meet them. But… aren't the two princesses twins? How am I supposed to tell them apart?"

That question proved he hadn't been completely disinterested.

King Henry III finally felt some relief and burst into hearty laughter.

"Haha! They're fraternal twins. Of course they resemble each other, but each has her own charm."

In his mind's eye, he pictured the calm and intelligent aura of Kate,

And the lively, bubbly energy of Phoebe.

With such different charms, surely one of them will capture this boy's heart.

Then his thoughts turned to his increasingly troubled kingdom.

That such political maneuvers were necessary for survival felt unjust—bitterly so.

But what choice did he have? That was the fate of a small, powerless nation.

All he could do was pray and hope that, someday, a superhuman like Michael would be born among his bloodline to achieve greatness.

Emperor Oswald stood anxiously at the harbor, overseeing preparations for the ships that would carry knights and magical beasts.

Behind him, Chancellor Mufasa offered grave counsel.

"Your Majesty, if something goes wrong after mobilizing so many ships…"

The emperor waved him off, clearly annoyed by the constant nagging.

"Enough! Do you think I want to do this? I'm the emperor of an empire, and yet we lack the warriors and beasts to deploy? Do you really think this is acceptable?"

His face twisted with fury—rage directed squarely at Iasus, the traitor.

When Oswald had returned to the empire to dispatch the promised reinforcements, he had been shocked.

Due to the civil war incited by Grand Duke Iasus, the empire's forces were already spread thin.

Excluding those engaged in fierce battles throughout the land, only half the promised warriors could be mustered.

And so, Oswald had no choice but to swallow his pride and offer material aid instead.

Just thinking about the smirks from Michael and Sigmund was enough to make him bolt upright in bed at night.

Mufasa looked at Oswald, whose pride remained unbowed, and sighed.

At this rate… the empire might truly fracture after the war against the Holy Kingdom. Ancestors, please watch over Pamir.