In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Oswald stared into the distant sky, his expression grim.

A foreboding energy flickered within his eyes.

What had once been a clear blue sky was now filled with countless dark specks.

But they weren't a flock of birds.

The closer they came, the more obvious it became—these were massive, formidable beings.

A thunderous roar echoed from beyond the clouds.

The sound of colossal wings slicing through the air filled the heavens.

The low, rough vibrations rode the wind and shook the ground.

As the flying creatures approached, the pressure they exuded grew nearly unbearable.

Then, finally, massive shadows filled the sky.

It was a horde of magical beasts.

And on the back of each beast sat a heavily armored knight.

The majority of the force was made up of griffons—giants with the head and wings of an eagle and the body of a lion.

They were true predators of the sky.

Their feathers, a mix of black and brown, shimmered in the moonlight.

Their sharp beaks looked strong enough to crush steel.

The muscular lion torsos easily bore their riders' weight as they glided through the sky.

With every beat of their wings, gusts of wind surged across the battlefield.

The knights riding them moved in perfect sync, piercing through the winds with practiced ease.

Occasionally, chimeras—Level 4 magical beasts—came into view.

They were among the easier beasts to tame after griffons.

The chimeras roared like monsters from the depths of hell, breathing fire into the air.

The knights riding them gripped the reins tightly, as if conquering the wild beasts themselves.

But what truly seized everyone's attention was the massive red dragon.

Its scales glowed like molten lava, radiating heat with each flap of its wings.

Its long, narrow head bore the dignity of ancient power.

Every time its wide wings spread, people on the ground erupted in awe.

Its massive form resembled a natural disaster more than a living creature.

Beside it flew a majestic sphinx.

Miaomiao glided through the sky, her sleek fur gleaming under the moonlight.

Unlike the other beasts, her intelligent eyes exuded a mysterious aura.

Then, another colossal shadow loomed overhead.

A hydra—with five heads—moved through the air like a massive serpent.

On its back rode King Henry III and Crown Prince Alexander.

The hydra's wings were vast enough to swallow the sky.

Each flap created a vortex of air.

The edges of the wings were covered in a tough, leathery membrane, torn in several places.

But those scars were not signs of weakness—they were like medals earned through battle.

There were too many magical beasts to count.

It was as though a massive storm were rolling in.

Under the now-darkened sky, the beasts roared in unison:

[Kyaaaaaaa!]

Their cries echoed like the gates of hell had burst open.

The earth shook, the sky trembled.

Oswald gritted his teeth and gripped his sword tightly.

The pressure pressing down on his body made even breathing feel heavy.

"They've finally arrived."

Chancellor Mufasa lowered his head slightly, shaking it in solemn silence.

They had been waiting for the armies of Lania, Elonia, and the Kingdom of Xerxes.

Those closest to Cerest were gathering at the port city.

At last, the swarm of magical beasts and knights in the sky began to descend.

Wings tore through the air, and the heavy, majestic thud of landing feet echoed across the ground.

Tension continued to hang in the air.

It was as if gods of war were descending from the heavens.

Oswald took a slow, deep breath.

His heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm, offering a strained smile.

Then he stepped forward to greet the approaching figure—

Michael.

His black cape billowed behind him, his presence unwavering and intense.

Clad in armor embroidered with golden thread, Michael looked like a hero pulled from myth.

His crimson eyes were cold, yet tinged with curiosity and playfulness.

Behind him came the others—

Marcus, the red dragon.

The massive dragon planted its stone-like legs firmly into the ground and slowly raised its head.

A single sharp, penetrating glance conveyed more than a thousand words.

Marcus's crimson eyes bore into Oswald with suspicion.

A cold sweat ran down Oswald's back.

But even more intimidating was another presence—

The sphinx.

Miaomiao landed quietly to the side, observing Oswald closely.

Her form was reminiscent of a black jaguar—sleek and graceful, with powerful, well-toned limbs.

Her wings opened and folded lightly, fluid as breath.

Her golden eyes gleamed sharply, and her tail swayed slowly, as if appraising him.

She had the gaze of one who could see right through a person's soul.

Sphinxes were creatures of intellect, known for their ability to discern truth from lies.

Oswald cursed inwardly.

Damn it. Why is she looking at me like that? What did I even do?

Forcing an awkward smile, he raised a hand in greeting.

"Haha, you've arrived. You must have had a hard journey."

Michael answered with a relaxed smile.

"It wasn't too difficult," Michael replied with ease. "As you know, Xerxes and Pamir aren't that far apart anymore."

A small twitch flickered across Oswald's face. Right—not that far, indeed.

Michael, acting as if it were nothing, shifted the topic.

"By the way… do those battleships over there represent the warriors and magical beasts you weren't able to mobilize?"

Oswald gritted his teeth unconsciously before replying.

"…That is correct."

Michael nodded as he gazed at the warships.

"Well, at least they're a decent addition to your forces."

Just as Oswald exhaled in relief, King Henry III of Elonia approached from behind.

The tension in Oswald's brow, which had briefly relaxed, tightened once more.

"…It's been a while," he offered with stiff formality.

Henry III barely acknowledged the greeting and got straight to the point.

"Well, let's say it has been a while. Now then—when can I expect the war reparations?"

The king's face showed clear signs of exhaustion from the long journey.

From convincing his son to traveling here to meet Michael's party, it had been a grueling ordeal for his aging body.

Oswald averted his gaze and replied in a low voice.

He had promised a hefty sum in reparations in exchange for Michael's support.

Michael observed the exchange with interest.

Lania and Xerxes had already received their full share of reparations.

Apparently, Elonia—being seen as a softer target—was still awaiting payment.

A faint smile spread across Michael's lips.

Not because he looked down on Elonia, but because it reminded him of the Pasha Kingdom.

Though Pasha had also suffered an invasion from Pamir, the empire's response after the war was different.

"The invasion was the result of Grand Duke Iasus violating military orders. Seek reparations from him instead."

When Pasha's envoy, pale-faced, sought out Grand Duke Iasus, the man shamelessly declared:

"I clearly received orders from the empire to invade. A written order? In such chaotic times, who keeps written orders?"

Utterly shameless.

Even as the Queen Dowager of Pasha raged in fury, there was no clear path to claim the promised reparations.

This was the price they paid for delaying their deployment and betraying the Three-Nation Alliance.

In retaliation, the Pasha Kingdom announced they would only send half the knights and magical beasts they had originally pledged.

The only one pleased by this was Archking Maximilian.

The more foolishly the Queen Dowager and her dimwitted son acted, the better the reputation of his principality became.

"You have to row while the tide is high," Maximilian thought.

Upon hearing the news, he volunteered to make up the difference, sending more troops and beasts.

Since all the allied nations were moving as one, no one believed the Pasha Kingdom would dare attack them.

Such a betrayal would result in total ostracism from continental society.

Meanwhile, the Queen Dowager, desperate to patch up the royal treasury, reportedly fainted when she heard the news.

Michael's gaze shifted back to Emperor Oswald.

What would he choose to do?

Oswald hesitated, searching for the right words for a long while.

Had it been just King Henry III in front of him, he might have deflected.

But with Michael watching so closely, he couldn't allow his pride to falter.

"…The reparations will be paid in installments," he finally said.

Henry III didn't waste the opportunity.

At his signal, waiting attendants sprang into action.

First came a small table, draped in rich red velvet, carried in haste.

Two attendants carefully set it down, followed by another who brought a finely carved chair.

Everything moved with seamless precision, as if it had all been prepared in advance.

Then came the third attendant, rushing forward with a thick bundle of documents in both hands.

These were promissory notes—formal documents pledging the payment of reparations.

Stamped with the royal seal in gold leaf, the documents had clearly marked signature lines and were printed on expensive paper, signaling that this was no mere verbal promise.

After placing the documents on the table, the attendant bowed respectfully and stepped back, watching Oswald's reaction.

A brief silence followed.

Henry III gently tapped the documents with his fingers, waiting calmly.

His gaze exuded quiet confidence and subtle satisfaction.

Oswald, wearing a bitter expression as if chewing gravel, signed the debt agreement.

The terms: repayment of war reparations over ten years, at an annual interest rate of 20%.

Only then did Henry III breathe a sigh of relief.

Without even this, the kingdom wouldn't have enough gold to function.

Michael, who had been watching the entire exchange with keen interest, approached Henry III as the king turned to leave.

"Have you ever considered… issuing government bonds?"

Henry III paused, curiosity piqued.

"Government bonds? What's that?"

Smiling broadly, Michael explained with a relaxed tone.

"Nothing complicated, Your Majesty. Simply put, it's a way for the crown to issue a certificate to borrow money from the people. When they buy it, the crown repays them later with interest."

Henry III narrowed his eyes.

"So… the people lend me money, and I pay it back later?"

"Exactly," Michael said. "The beauty of it is that you don't need to raise taxes right away. You can secure immediate funds while avoiding unrest."

He snapped his fingers lightly.

"And there's more—you don't even have to repay it personally. The bonds can be traded among the people. Over time, public trust in the crown becomes a currency in itself."

At that moment, the concept of government bonds was born on the continent.

A smile crept across Michael's face.

"We'll start with bonds first."