In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Antonio stared helplessly at the man before him, his eyes filled with despair.

A man with jet-black hair and a strikingly handsome face.

A face he had seen somewhere before.

His gaze shifted past Michael—someone he never expected to see in a place like this.

There stood a face he could never forget, even in dreams.

"God of Death…"

Antonio writhed with disgust.

The god he had once trusted and depended on had appeared in human form.

"How dare you stand so proudly, after abandoning your role as a god…!"

Alfred said nothing as he watched him.

Antonio continued to howl in anguish.

"Radiance fulfilled his duties as a god! You hypocrite! You betrayed those who revered you as their deity…!"

Alfred remained silent.

His robe fluttered gently in the lingering breeze.

Above the desolate sea, shrouded in mist and darkness, Antonio—the man who had once served as the priest of death—was now howling.

His face was twisted with tears and fury.

His clenched fists trembled, his pupils wavered, and his breathing was ragged.

"Speak, hypocrite!"

Still, Alfred said nothing.

He only looked at the man who had once been his devout follower with a calm, unwavering gaze.

To Antonio, that gaze was unbearably offensive.

It was as if Alfred was mocking his cries—or worse, pitying him.

That, Antonio could not endure.

"Even if you've cast aside your divinity, you're still a god!"

Antonio, now consumed by madness, shouted.

"You abandoned your divine duty! You had a responsibility to guide humanity! Radiance fulfilled his divine mission, and through that, mankind found order!"

Alfred let out a quiet sigh.

"Order?"

He echoed softly.

"Yes! Order! Humanity is inherently chaotic and foolish! The wise must lead them! That is what gods are for!"

Every time Antonio invoked Radiance's name, his eyes blazed fiercely.

Yet Alfred's expression remained impassive, devoid of any visible emotion.

"You still believe that was 'order,' Antonio?"

His voice was low and deep.

"Yes, I believe it! Radiance brought structure to chaos and showed the way to the uncivilized!"

Alfred slowly shook his head.

"Radiance never sought order. What he wanted… was dominion."

Antonio gasped, breath caught in his throat.

"Lies."

His eyes widened.

"Radiance was a noble being! He sacrificed himself for humanity!"

"You and I simply see things from different perspectives."

Alfred's eyes grew cold and steady.

"When I first became a god, I believed the same. That gods existed for the sake of humanity. That we were to make this world a better place."

His gaze drifted into the distance.

He recalled the days when he looked down upon humanity from the divine throne.

Humans offered up desperate prayers to the gods, and Alfred used his power to aid them.

But as time went on, an unfamiliar unease began to settle in.

They were no longer living their own lives.

"The existence of a god can be a shield to humanity, but at the same time, it becomes a chain."

Alfred continued.

Michael stood quietly, listening to his grandfather's words with a calm expression.

Of course—it was never just for human happiness that Alfred relinquished his divinity.

"The moment a god intervenes, humans stop thinking for themselves. They move only in the direction the god desires, pursue only what the god allows. What meaning is left in such a life?"

Alfred turned to Antonio.

"You know it too. Protection and domination are separated by only a thin sheet of paper."

Antonio found himself unable to breathe.

Unlike him, Alfred's eyes showed no hint of hesitation.

"Radiance didn't fulfill his duty as a god. He merely used the title of god to reign over humanity."

"No…"

Antonio shook his head desperately.

"That can't be true. Radiance protects mankind. In his kingdom, everyone is equal."

"Equal?"

Alfred stepped forward, ever so slightly.

"Then why do classes exist in his so-called equal divine nation?"

Antonio's breath hitched.

"You know it too, don't you? Radiance purged those who opposed him, branded dissenters as heretics. If he were a truly equal god, wouldn't he have respected others' beliefs as well? Haven't you ever sensed the contradiction in that, Antonio?"

Antonio was speechless.

"Why must so many give their lives in the name of a god?"

Images flashed through his mind—devout followers shouting Radiance's name as they willingly sacrificed their lives.

"Was that true freedom for them? Or just the image of brainwashed zealots?"

Alfred pressed on.

"It's probably meaningless for me to say all this. But deep down, you know it too. The very concept of a god is a contradiction."

At that moment, Antonio felt as though the ground beneath him had crumbled.

A jarring sensation, as if his entire world had been overturned.

As though his very existence had been denied.

His hands trembled violently.

Falling to his knees, he clutched the damp deck beneath him.

"I… I just needed something to believe in!"

His voice cracked as it burst out.

He gasped for air.

A crushing sense of collapse overwhelmed him.

Beliefs that had been built over tens of thousands of years—faith—were now being shattered by the very god he once revered.

"Humans are weak…"

He struck his chest with a shaking hand.

"I… I was weak. That's the world I lived in. The powerless were trampled underfoot, while the strong crushed them without mercy. I… I was one of the weak."

His breath grew heavier.

Memories of childhood surged to the surface.

When Antonio first encountered the divine, he had been just a young child.

His village was a powerless, remote settlement on the fringes of the world.

It had been an age of endless war, and Antonio's family was no exception…

"Father…!"

Antonio had seen it with his own eyes—his father running toward him, only to be pierced by an enemy's spear.

Hot blood splattered across the dirt floor.

His mother had screamed and pulled him into her arms, while the conquerors smiled, leaving the burning village behind.

That night, Antonio clung to his mother's cold corpse and wept.

Only one question remained in his mind:

Why?

Why did the weak have to die without resistance?

Why did no one come to save them?

It was then that an old man approached—a village elder who oversaw funerals.

With a calm expression, the elder gently gathered the remains of Antonio's family.

He respectfully placed his father's bloodied hands at rest and carefully closed his mother's eyes.

Then, the old man prayed—to the God of Death, Alfred.

"O Death, guide the souls of these departed."

For the first time, Antonio felt a sliver of comfort.

He believed in the gods—no, he had to believe.

Only then could his family's death have meaning.

"I… I just needed something to believe in!"

He had stood beside the elder during the funeral, joining the prayer to the God of Death.

"O divine one, receive them."

That day, Antonio vowed to follow the God of Death for the rest of his life.

He was taken in by the priests of death.

They taught him:

"Death is not the end."

"Death is a new beginning."

"The God of Death guides them forward."

Those words soothed Antonio's heart.

He no longer feared death.

Death became a part of life, and understanding the cycle brought him peace.

That was why he couldn't accept it—when Alfred abandoned his divine seat.

The faith he had followed, the god he had leaned on—had vanished.

And in a world without gods, he was alone once again.

Then came Radiance.

Radiance's followers told him:

"A true god never abandons humanity."

"Radiance leads the world into light."

Antonio wanted to believe them.

Radiance had established order in the name of the divine and guided the lost through chaos.

Even if that path was at times oppressive, or led others to death, it at least existed.

It was nothing like Alfred, who had willingly cast off divinity.

And so, Antonio followed Radiance.

But now—Alfred's words shattered everything he had built.

"What Radiance wanted was not order. What he wanted… was dominion."

Antonio didn't want to accept it.

"No…"

Alfred quietly posed his question:

"Why do you think Radiance killed so many?"

Antonio couldn't answer.

Images of countless soldiers fallen on the battlefield filled his mind—

Comrades who had died crying out Radiance's name.

Heretics massacred for rejecting Radiance's doctrine.

"Because they were heretics. They believed in false gods…!"

He defended Radiance desperately.

It was his conviction.

But Alfred's voice was steady and unmoved.

"Even so—they were still human, weren't they? Why did they have to die for a god? Do you know where the power of those sacrificed flows?"

Antonio fell silent.

He recalled the ones he had executed in Radiance's name.

Brilliant temples overflowing with light…

Priests in white robes always proclaiming Radiance's words:

"Purge the heretics. Only Radiance's teachings can save humanity."

Antonio had followed those orders.

He had slain countless heretics.

'All heresy is sin. All must be purified by Radiance.'

He had fought. Again and again.

To say he had no doubts would be a lie.

The more heretics he eradicated, the stronger Radiance became.

"That… that's purification! They defied the divine will, so becoming one with divine power is only right!"

Alfred looked at him, eyes filled with quiet sorrow.

Perhaps Antonio could not accept it because the weight of his sins was too great.

"Do you truly believe that?"

"…Even if Radiance did such things, that still doesn't justify what you did—abandoning your divinity and humanity alike."

Antonio clenched his teeth.

Alfred quietly closed his eyes, then looked at him once more.

"I did not abandon humanity."

His voice was calm, yet filled with certainty.

"I hoped… that humanity could learn to live on its own."

When Alfred first became a god, he had tried to fulfill his divine duties.

As the God of Death, he embraced the dying and guided them on their final path.

He accepted their pain willingly.

But over time, he noticed something strange.

People began to rely on him more and more.

They stopped making their own decisions about life and death.

Instead, they left those choices to the gods.

In their suffering, they sought divine intervention, delaying action and surrendering agency.

Alfred remembered a prayer he once heard from an old woman.

She was praying for her sick grandson.

"Please… decide my grandson's fate. I place all in this candle's flame. If it goes out, I will accept his death…"

And in that moment, a breeze snuffed out the candle.

The old woman did nothing. She sat in despair.

Alfred was devastated.

She could have saved her grandson.

She could have called a doctor. Gathered herbs. Cared for him.

Instead of praying and wasting precious time, she could have pressed a cool cloth to his forehead.

That was when Alfred realized—

Gods were not saviors… but shackles.

Humans weren't searching for gods; they were surrendering to them.

Their prayers were not born of faith, but of the desire to escape responsibility.

Was that truly what a god should be?

Should gods determine the fate of humans?

No.

Every human must carve their own destiny.

From behind, Michael nodded.

His grandfather was right.

At that moment, elsewhere…

Radiance stood before the mouth of a cave.

"Finally…!"

His soul burst forth—radiating pure light.