In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

At the entrance to the underground sanctuary, Michael spotted his grandfather walking out with a calm expression.

"Ah! Thank goodness, Grandfather. I felt your energy spread across the entire city and was worried something had happened."

Alfred looked at his grandson with a serene gaze.

But deep down, he was filled with pride.

To think this long and lonely battle could finally be fought with someone by his side—it made him happy.

"Hmm, it was nothing," Alfred said casually. "The creature sensed something and fled before I arrived."

Michael froze.

If the enemy escaped… then it was something.

"I'm already conducting a search," Alfred added. "No need to worry too much. What's left of it is just a husk."

His eyes turned to the divine energy now surrounding Michael.

Pride filled his expression as he praised his grandson.

"Truly remarkable. You've already absorbed so much power… If it weren't for the barrier, you might have already attained divinity."

Michael's expression shifted in confusion.

"Divinity? Isn't this divine energy already a form of divinity?"

Alfred began to explain.

"Well… divine energy and divinity are not the same. Divine energy can be held within a human body—but divinity requires surpassing all human limits."

Ah—so that's the foreign sensation he'd been feeling.

Michael quickly nodded in understanding.

"That makes sense. It feels like the power keeps trying to surge outward from within me."

Alfred Nodded.

"Exactly. Divinity is the power required to become a god. It's not just magic—it's a fundamental force that transcends existence itself."

His voice was calm, yet filled with conviction.

"Life force in humans, mana for mages and knights, divine energy for priests—divinity is a different concept altogether.

Those who carry divinity can distort the very laws of reality by their presence alone."

Alfred waved a hand through the air.

Where his fingers passed, the wind stirred, and flowers bloomed.

"Divinity surpasses time and space. No physical force or magic can harm one who holds it.

But divinity is not merely a symbol of strength—it is the accumulation of the world's recognition and belief."

Alfred's face grew solemn.

"As faith and concepts gather, divinity takes shape. But once someone becomes a god, that divinity also becomes a shackle—defining and binding them."

The flowers wilted, and the breeze faded.

"To become a god is not to gain freedom—but to be permanently locked into a single form of existence.

Yes, you gain infinite power… but you must live as that being for eternity.

Divinity is both a blessing and an everlasting chain."

Images flashed in Michael's mind—moments when people prayed to him, cheered for him, believed in him.

So… without knowing it, I've been accumulating divinity all along.

Seeing the realization on his grandson's face, Alfred continued his explanation.

"Yes. What you've gathered is divinity.

It's not just magic, or divine energy like a priest might wield.

It's the recognition of the world—it's the possibility of godhood itself.

But here's the problem… In this world, humans can no longer become gods."

Alfred's eyes deepened.

"There was once a time, long ago, when it was possible.

In ancient legends, some humans gathered enough faith and reached the realm of divinity, becoming true gods."

Michael looked at his grandfather, realizing that Alfred himself had likely walked that same path.

"The world accepted them as gods.

As their names became myth and their worship spread, they became increasingly divine.

But now… things are different."

Alfred met Michael's gaze squarely.

This was a truth that could not be avoided.

"There is now a barrier in this world—something that prevents new gods from ever emerging again.

The very possibility of human divinity has been sealed.

No matter how much power one accumulates, no one can become a god."

He continued, unwavering.

"I'm sorry, Michael. When Arabella lost her power to the Light, I had no choice but to rewrite the laws of the world."

Michael's expression hardened as the truth sank in.

Alfred, suppressing his anxiety, watched his beloved grandson's reaction with worry.

Would he be blamed for sealing away the path of godhood?

But then, Michael smiled—deeply and sincerely.

"That's a relief, Grandfather. I want to live as a human… and die in peace."

Alfred's expression softened with quiet joy.

Knowing his grandson had made the same choice as he once had… it brought deep comfort.

"Think it over carefully," Alfred said. "When we destroy the Light's spirit, there will be a moment when the door opens.

That may be your one chance to ascend."

Michael shook his head without hesitation.

"I want to live a human life."

Alfred patted his grandson on the shoulder.

Having once lived as a god, he understood better than anyone the weight of that path.

He had long feared Michael would end up walking the same lonely road.

Feared that his grandson would become trapped in the chains of divinity.

Alfred had once pursued godhood, driven by a vague admiration.

But it had brought only misery.

With godhood came the gradual fading of human emotions.

Pain and sorrow dulled.

Joy and happiness grew faint.

Over time, the divine force consumed the human spirit.

And the being that became a god eventually forgot their humanity, becoming a hollow shell—

Trapped in a vast emptiness, cut off from all feeling.

Though Alfred had retained some humanity thanks to his beloved Arabella,

He still remembered the emptiness that had haunted him.

If Michael were to become a god, he would eventually lose everything—

Every emotion, every connection—

Because to become a god means eternal isolation.

It is to rule above all,

Yet never again walk beside anyone.

Gods are not like humans, and humans can never fully comprehend gods.

That gap only grows wider over time—

Eventually, a being who becomes a god is left to drift in endless solitude,

watching the flow of the world from afar.

Alfred knew it well.

Becoming a god wasn't a blessing—it was a punishment.

But more than anything, what troubled him was the possibility that this world might no longer accept a new god.

Even gods are subject to the laws of the world.

And even if Michael were to accumulate divinity and ascend to godhood, the world itself might reject him.

Alfred didn't want to see his grandson walk a path that no one had ever returned from.

In a world where the birth of new gods had long since been forbidden, becoming one meant violating the fundamental order of existence.

It meant risking complete rejection by the world.

That was why Alfred had long hoped Michael would never try to become a god.

And that was why his grandson's answer had brought him such peace.

At the very least, Michael—unlike himself, unlike Arabella, unlike the Light—

Would not throw everything away to chase that empty divinity.

"Well then," Michael said with a grin. "Shall we go hunt down the soul of the Light?"

Sitting on his shoulders, Marcus and Miaomiao both chimed in with fierce agreement.

[Yeah, yeah! Enough with the heavy talk. I just want to claw that damned Light into pieces.]

For Miaomiao—once betrayed and turned to light by the very being they now hunted—resentment was inevitable.

Marcus, too, bore deep grudges.

Even if the Light hadn't given direct orders, a commander is always responsible for the actions of his subordinates.

[That guy… I still don't know what he looks like. But I know he deserves to die.]

Michael patted both of them gently on the head, then reached a hand toward his grandfather.

Alfred returned a warm smile.

The faces of his former companions—those who had once stood alongside him and Arabella—floated through his mind.

Was it just a coincidence that their descendants now followed Michael?

Or was it fate?

He bowed his head sincerely to Marcus and Miaomiao.

"Thank you."

At that time, the Allied Forces were still advancing through the Holy Capital, reclaiming its contents.

No—rather than plundering, it was more like rightful reclamation.

For years, the Holy Kingdom had reigned supreme.

And in that time, it had stolen relics, treasures, and sacred artifacts from every nation under the guise of piety.

Now, those lost pieces of cultural heritage were being uncovered—pieces that nations had tried so hard to preserve.

Inside the ruined Grand Cathedral, King Henry III of Elronia bent down and picked up a gold-plated scepter that had been rolling across the floor.

It looked like an ordinary ceremonial staff at first glance—

But near the tip, the crest of Elronia was clearly engraved.

It was a royal scepter.

One that had belonged to Elronia's kings in ages past.

"You filthy bastards…"

Henry growled and kicked over a nearby statue in fury.

It rolled across the marble floor with a dull thud—

Even after such abuse, it hadn't broken. That only showed how much craftsmanship had gone into it.

All around him, Elronia's stolen artifacts lay discarded.

A gold chalice once displayed in the royal chapel, ancient tomes from the palace library—

Even the sword used by Elronia's founding monarch sat carelessly on an altar.

Henry picked it up.

He ran his hand along the blade, tracing the familiar emblem etched into the steel.

"So this is the will of the gods? No—they were nothing but thieves! They humiliated our ancestors and stole everything under the name of their so-called holy nation!"

His jaw clenched.

The Holy Kingdom had always cloaked itself in morality and faith, pretending to be divine.

But the truth was now laid bare.

They were invaders—plunderers—

And the stolen relics were the proof of their hypocrisy.

Elsewhere, Duke Capone of Lania stood frozen in disbelief.

Before him, inside the treasure vault of the Holy Kingdom, hung a painting.

A portrait, long thought lost.

It was the likeness of Charles I, one of Lania's greatest rulers—

A visionary king who had once led Lania into prosperity.

The portrait had once adorned the halls of Lania's royal palace,

But four centuries ago, it vanished.

The Holy Kingdom's priests had claimed it was a "threat to divine order" and confiscated it.

In truth, they had coveted it—

It was the final work of Raphael, the era's most famed artist.

"You… bastards."

Capone's face twisted in rage.

The portrait was covered in dust, tossed carelessly among countless stolen treasures.

Abandoned—like so many others.

He trembled with fury.

"These wretched pigs… If they were going to steal it, they should've preserved it!

Is this what a nation devoted to god looks like?!"

He stepped forward and gripped the painting tightly.

With the city walls broken and every mansion laid bare,

The Allied Forces now saw the true face of the Holy Kingdom—

A place that had stolen, hidden, and hoarded in the name of divine will.

Now, all of it was exposed.

All across the capital, commanders from the Allied nations discovered their own lost relics—

And with each discovery, their fury deepened.

They began rounding up the clergy—

Those who had orchestrated centuries of theft and abuse—

And began issuing judgment.

And through it all, Henry III and Duke Capone, burying years of resentment deep in their chests,

Came to a shared realization:

The Holy Kingdom would never rise again.