In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Jean's sudden shift in tone, as if brimming with pride, made Albert relax slightly.
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"Well... Compared to other nobles who treat their peasants and serfs like animals, he's definitely better," Albert admitted. He then resumed his jumping exercises and urged Jean to join him.

"Start moving too! If you want to survive, you need stamina."

Meanwhile, Michael, unaware of how Albert and others perceived him, was focused on gathering more soldiers. While having a large army wasn't always advantageous, having too few soldiers was a guaranteed disadvantage. In battles fought with cold steel, the number of soldiers directly influenced survival.

Fortunately, the noble families who had observed Michael's military training spread word of his methods, drawing many to join him. Most knights, lacking resources, could only maintain small contingents of fewer than a hundred soldiers. With limited funds and knowledge, they couldn't dream of systematic training.

The promise of training and weapons for those who aligned with the Crassus family was irresistible, and many flocked to join. For Michael, there was no reason to refuse. Increasing the number of allied soldiers was crucial to preserving his direct forces.

Michael's training philosophy remained consistent: seize opportunities to gain merits and, if defeat seemed inevitable, retreat faster than anyone else. If all his soldiers adhered to this principle, the worst could be avoided.

"Sir Michael, thank you again. Thanks to you, my soldiers won't have to charge into battle unarmed," said Joseph, an elderly knight with a hearty laugh.

"Not at all, Sir Joseph. It's thanks to you and your soldiers joining our legion that my worries have lessened," Michael replied.

Joseph, a former mercenary who had roamed countless battlefields before awakening his aura and becoming a knight in his later years, chuckled. Though he had spent his life fighting, his fortunes hadn't turned out as he had hoped. After spending all his savings to acquire a small fief, he had struggled to arm his fifty conscripted peasants properly. Joining Michael's forces had been a blessing, as it allowed his men to be equipped.

For Michael, gaining a seasoned mercenary-turned-knight was also advantageous. Though some high-ranking nobles scoffed at his recruitment of aging knights, Michael thought otherwise.

In a war-torn world, knights who had survived despite lacking wealth and support were true assets.

As Michael exchanged pleasantries with Sir Joseph, his squire Alex ran toward him.

"My lord! Count Charles is requesting your presence!"

Michael nodded. It was time to march.

Inside the Pamir Empire's border fortress, Crown Prince Oswald issued a cold command to the concubines scattered across his chamber.

"Leave, all of you."

This had long been Oswald's habit. No matter how much he favored a concubine, he never allowed anyone to stay by his side while he slept. Once the concubines had left, Oswald, who had been lounging indulgently moments before, sat upright. His previously drunken demeanor had vanished, leaving no trace of inebriation.

From the shadows, a figure emerged—a mage in a black robe.

"My lord, please do not overexert yourself," the mage urged.

Oswald waved a dismissive hand at the figure.

"I'm fine. I can endure. After all, how many years have I spent maintaining this charade? It's not something I can abandon now," Oswald replied with a bitter smile.

After a brief pause, he continued, "As long as the old man is alive, I have no choice but to continue this act. Now, what news do you have?"

The black-robed mage, Carlton, looked at his master with a gaze full of pity and concern.

"There's no visible movement yet. For now, it seems the plan is to amass energy through the war," Carlton reported softly.

"Of course," Oswald said with a hollow laugh. "Starting a war on such a massive scale... It means I still have some value left."

The laugh quickly faded, and tears began to stream down his face. For years, Oswald had played the role of a hedonistic prince, indulging in wine and women and living a life that appeared carefree and devoid of anguish.

But deep in his heart, pain resided, a torment born from secrets he could never share. The burden of that secret had consumed him over time.

If only he could go back to that day when he was fifteen, he thought bitterly. He would stop himself from opening his brother's coffin. If he hadn't been driven by curiosity, he could have lived a life of blissful ignorance, like his other siblings, striving for power without knowing the truth.

But that one choice had changed his life forever.

"Don't give up, my lord. It's too soon for that," Carlton said in a low voice.

Oswald chuckled weakly and stared at the ceiling.

"Ha... After the war, when the energy has been gathered, my turn will come next. I won't give up—I'll survive, no matter what. But... I can't deny that I feel lost."

After discovering that his aging father was extending his life at the cost of his children and subjects, Oswald had deliberately lived a life of excess. He wanted to appear worthless in his father's eyes, believing that this was the only way to spare his life.

But now, with no other blood relatives left, he could no longer see a way out. To survive, Oswald resolved to betray his father, though the thought tore at him.

Was it truly inevitable for a father and son to shed each other's blood? He agonized over the path ahead, uncertain of what awaited him at its end.

In the military council, Michael stood among the assembled nobles as Count Charles addressed the group. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, and the knights and nobles, seated silently, seemed to sense the gravity of the moment as they awaited the count's words.

"Now that everyone is here, let me get straight to the point," Count Charles began decisively.

"As many of you have already guessed, the time has come to march."

He continued with a firm tone, "The Pamir Empire is attacking both the northwestern planet and the Elonia Kingdom. Their forces number a staggering 500,000. In comparison, even when combining our forces with those of the northwestern planet and Elonia, we can only muster 200,000. But this level of disparity is not new to us. We must do our best."