In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

An age of humans, not Lords.

The void left by vanished religions would now be filled by the polytheism Michael had crafted alongside the continent's rulers. All that remained was to repair the barrier and anchor the new order firmly to the world.

From Michael's fingertips, streams of light flowed out, seeping into the barrier's cracks.

At that moment, the earth, air, and sky began to respond to his presence. The winds stilled, clouds ceased their motion, and all sounds vanished into silence.

Along the fractures of the barrier, symbols representing new gods began to form.

The first shape to appear was that of a benevolent elder holding a book and mirror—a constellation symbolizing the sun, formed entirely from glowing lines of light.

As Michael waved his hand, another constellation emerged: a masked goddess holding a crimson sword and scales. Intertwined with her form was a figure dressed as an executioner. Together, they symbolized judgment, revenge, and death.

Next appeared the goddess of abundance. Her long hair flowed like stalks of wheat, her skirts filled with ripe fruits. Representing the power of the earth, her image settled at the lower region of the barrier.

More constellations followed:

A master of war wielding an enormous helmet and shield.

A lord of the hunt holding a bow and horn.

A sea deity with a fish's tail and trident.

A lord of technology, adorned with gears and flames.

Soon, the barrier surrounding the continent was entirely covered with sacred symbols and constellations, orchestrated perfectly by Michael's will.

With each step he took, more of the barrier's cracks sealed shut. Layers of radiant light overlapped, eventually forming an impenetrable shield capable of repelling invasions from outer gods forever.

From now on, no tangible gods would remain.

No voices answering prayers, no hands delivering blessings or curses.

People would instead look up to the constellations—not gods—to seek prosperity and whisper prayers of love.

The stars would always remain in place: unchanging, unwavering guides to keep humans from losing their way in darkness.

Faith would no longer revolve around tangible beings, but around willpower and philosophy.

All the power Michael had absorbed flowed steadily into the barrier, each drop becoming part of the sky itself. Power filled each star, causing them to blaze forth with purpose.

The Sun constellation embodied knowledge and ethics; the star of war resonated with oaths and sacrifice. Justice and balance anchored the constellation of death and vengeance.

The stars of abundance flourished with greenery, and the stars of love held countless human memories and wishes.

Michael quietly watched the entire process unfold.

Finally, the fractures completely disappeared, and the barrier was restored in full.

A magnificent ring of light formed across the sky, stretching across the entire continent—the visible proof of the new order Michael had created.

The overwhelming power inside Michael gradually subsided, the divine energy he'd carried fading away. Now, Michael possessed only the strength he'd held before reaching Gwanghwi's island.

All the divine power he'd gathered or received from others had been poured entirely into the barrier.

He calmly looked at the constellations he had created.

'This is enough.'

He felt no regret. A brief emptiness surged through him as the remnants of divinity left his body, yet it quickly passed. Rather than emptiness, the feeling was closer to liberation.

Of course, he wasn't entirely free from the desire for power. However, excessive strength inevitably brought destruction.

Moreover, there still remained external gods on the continent—foreign beings disguised as deities, worshippers of destruction and chaos who cloaked their madness as truth. Greed incarnate hidden beneath divine masks.

Michael slowly clenched his fist.

If necessary, he would defeat those beings and absorb their power without hesitation.

But more importantly:

'I want to live and die as a human.'

Michael's gaze turned toward the sparkling continent beneath him.

Gentle green fields stretching out,

Morning fog settling between mountain ranges,

City lights and harbor lighthouses,

Smoke rising from village campfires,

People who loved and hated, laughed and wept.

From now on, the world would gradually change.

This was the reason he'd embarked on this journey:

To create a world where people could live freely, laughing, crying, and loving without fear of intrusion—a world that protected humanity's values.

Humans had the freedom to choose, to take responsibility, and to dream of tomorrow.

Michael smiled softly, imagining himself living among them.

Not as a deity revered from afar, but as a fellow human being.

He recalled his lonely childhood, followed by the family he'd finally met:

is grandfather Karl.

His grandmother Arabella.

His uncle Henry.

His aunt Clara.

His father Dominic.

His sisters Elizabeth, Kate, and Phoebe.

And finally, Astrid—who would remain by his side forever.

Images of people he'd encountered flashed through his mind:

The loyal knight, Sir Roderick.

Now a duke, he could comfortably enjoy his later years—though knowing his loyal character, he'd likely never stray far from Dominic.

The ever-cheerful Baron Kensington.

He'd risen from a mere baron to become a marquis.

Julian and his family.

Michael warmly recalled Lord Lancaster, Julian's father, who had recognized Michael's worth from the start. Now a marquis, Lancaster took pride in his son's achievements.

Leonardo, Isfer, Drake, Labouen and his wife Evelyn, Fernando, Girac, and the newly returned Alexander and Lucrezia.

Gifted individuals from the past, unjustly executed and now resurrected as Yomas, faithfully supporting Michael from behind.

Those who had returned from the past—like Lucrezia and Alexander—would greatly contribute to the future empire formed by the union of Rania and Xerc.

'Now, there should be no more invasions from outer gods or reincarnations from other worlds.'

Michael gazed at the brilliantly glowing barrier, his expression mixed with relief and a hint of melancholy.

'I'll have to periodically send Yomas to reinforce this.'

He felt a slight pang of sympathy for the Yomas, bound to serve him eternally.

But after all, they'd willingly accepted resurrection, hadn't they?

While sorting paperwork next to Julian, Fernando suddenly shivered from a chill running up his spine.

"Hm? Is something wrong?" Julian asked.

"No, nothing. Just got goosebumps suddenly."

Fernando casually dismissed Julian's concern and buried himself once more in the pile of documents. News of the war's end in the Holy Kingdom had resulted in an enormous influx of paperwork.

Even working nights, they'd be lucky to finish it all in a few days—not to mention preparations for the upcoming coronation and wedding.

Fernando and Julian paled visibly as they faced the endless flow of documents.

Fernando sighed unconsciously.

'I always wished to achieve greatness before I died, but not quite like this…'

Shaking his head, Fernando refocused on the paperwork.

Nearby, Leonardo, who had returned to the palace to finish his paintings, watched them happily.

'Hehe, becoming a Yoma was definitely the right choice. Now I can serve and praise my lord forever…'

Later, a strange rumor spread throughout the empire ruled by Michael and Astrid:

"If you excel too much at work, a tall, blond fairy might appear and force you into eternal labor."

Deep within Rania's royal palace, in the inner chambers—

Gray morning sunlight filtered through stained glass windows carved with rose patterns.

The scented candles illuminating the bedchamber had long since burned out, leaving a faint fragrance of herbs and flowers lingering in the air.

On the bed, Charles V's eyelids slowly began to flutter.

Anita, dozing in a chair beside him, snapped awake at the slightest movement.

"…Your Majesty?"

Her eyes sparkled with relief.

She swiftly checked Charles's pulse before beginning her healing magic once more. Within the previously stagnant energy pathways, clear signs of recovery appeared—a weak yet unmistakable pulse of life.

"Just… Just hold on a bit longer, Your Majesty. I'll heal you further."

Softly whispering encouragement, Anita clasped her hands together, focusing her energy. A delicate green glow gently emerged from her hands. The faint aura swirled briefly like a shimmering mirage, then smoothly seeped into Charles V's body, flowing through nerves and blood vessels.

Beads of sweat appeared on Anita's forehead, though her gaze never wavered. Healing was akin to conversation—a deep understanding and empathy with life itself.

She was now conversing intimately with Charles V's weakened body.

"Just a bit more…"

As the light intensified, Charles's rigid lips slightly softened. The deathly pallor vanished from his face, replaced by a healthy color.

Finishing the healing session, Anita exhaled deeply and lowered her hands.

"You should be fine now. You're fully conscious, and your body is steadily recovering. However… there's no way to revive the parts already lost. You'll need consistent rehabilitation to regain full functionality."

Charles V slowly, very slowly, nodded. His body might have slept, but his mind had been aware all along. Though he might never regain his peak condition, as a knight himself, he fully understood his current state.

With great effort, his dry lips formed words:

"How… long has it been?"

A royal chamberlain standing next to Anita quietly wiped his eyes, bowing respectfully.

"A long time has passed since Your Majesty collapsed."

After hearing a brief overview of recent events, Charles stared blankly at the ceiling. He vividly remembered witnessing the queen's atrocious behavior during his incapacitation.

Her endless verbal abuse toward Astrid, her shameless defense of her incompetent family, and her casual participation in corruption flashed before his eyes.

'How should I handle this? Perhaps… that's the only solution.'

Before he could fully gather his thoughts, the door abruptly opened, and the queen swept into the room, extravagantly dressed with heavy makeup masking her face.

She rushed toward Charles V, embracing him dramatically with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Your Majesty! You've finally awakened! You must retake control of the kingdom immediately. You cannot imagine how severe Astrid's tyranny has become!"

Clutching his hand tightly, the queen continued speaking without pause.

"You must stop her! Ever since you collapsed, she acts as if I don't even exist. The nobles from both north and south—"

Charles V listened impassively, enduring the queen's ignorant ramblings about politics, before finally raising his hand.

"Enough. My mind remained clear during all this time. You should be grateful I haven't immediately stripped you of your title. Keep quiet and reflect on your actions. Otherwise—"

The queen's face instantly froze in shock. Memories of her reckless actions while Charles lay incapacitated flashed vividly in her mind. Everything she had desperately attempted to hide was now exposed.

Confusion and pain distorted her expression.

"But, Charles… I… I…"

Charles dismissed Anita and the attendants from the room and slowly closed his eyes.

"Please... Do not destroy even the last shred of affection I once held for you. Astrid is also your daughter; how could you be so heartless?"

The queen flinched, speechless.

"Look at me. I'm no longer physically capable of ruling. Astrid has proven herself a worthy heir. And above all, we have Grand Duke Michael. Let go of your greed, retreat to a secluded palace, and live quietly with me. I will grant your family sufficient wealth."

Completely defeated, the queen collapsed to the floor.

Charles V turned away from her without another glance.

Once Michael returned from the Holy Kingdom, Charles planned to formally announce the birth of the new empire and hold a joint coronation ceremony.