In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Another white-haired knight nodded solemnly. "It's the same for most of us. I've been stuck as a Grade 5 knight for over thirty years now."

"Exactly," added a third. "We're all in the same boat. But let's stay hopeful. If we can break through the wall of enlightenment, maybe something good will come of it."

The burly warrior tried to lift the mood with a forced smile, but his words only deepened the collective silence.

Their shared goal—to ascend to the next stage—wasn't just a matter of ambition but a desperate instinct for survival and validation. For these warriors, progression was more than just a measure of power or prestige; it was a matter of life and death.

Advancing to Grade 3 was particularly crucial, as it widened the mana core near the heart, extending one's lifespan. Most of the warriors gathered in the hall were stuck at Grades 4 and 5, tantalizingly close to their goal but unable to grasp it.

Faust, the most skilled mage present, clenched his wrinkled hands into fists. "Advancing to the next stage… I was once hailed as a genius of the mage's tower, the hope of my generation. Yet here I am, stagnant for decades. I never realized how high the wall would be until I hit it."

Aaron, another veteran, nodded grimly. "None of us are exceptions. Is there anyone here who wasn't once called a prodigy? And yet, no one among us has broken past the barrier to Grade 3."

Michael listened to their laments from a distance, his thoughts turning inward. Alexander always said the current methods of mana manipulation are flawed. No matter how talented someone is, advancing to Grade 3 is nearly impossible without change.

His gaze deepened as he considered the possibilities. If I could simplify Alexander's mana manipulation techniques and teach them… most of these warriors could at least reach Grade 3.

But a dilemma presented itself. Alexander had entrusted those techniques to Michael under strict conditions: they were to remain a secret, passed down only within their lineage. Simplifying the methods and sharing them, even in part, felt like a breach of trust.

Still… if Alexander were to grant permission, it could be worth it. Bringing these warriors into the Crassus family fold would be a monumental gain. He studied the faces of the warriors in the hall, each a figure of note in their respective fields.

Who among them would refuse an offer to help them achieve their long-sought goals?

After pondering for a moment, Michael decided to shelve the idea for later. For now, there were more immediate matters at hand.

He stood and clapped his hands to draw the room's attention. "Everyone, may I have your attention for a moment? There's something I'd like to discuss."

In the end, 15 warriors, led by Aaron and Faust, gathered to support Michael. While fewer than expected, he ensured he had contact methods for everyone, making it easy to recruit them later if needed. Those who wished to stay behind remained, while others departed.

With help from Chancellor Mufasa, Michael assigned accommodations in the imperial palace to the remaining warriors. Afterward, he sought out Crown Prince Oswald, who was waiting for him in the royal palace's main chambers.

The room exuded a quiet, discreet elegance. While lacking ostentation, it was adorned with refined furnishings and decorations of the highest craftsmanship. Oswald gestured Michael to a seat identical to his own—a high-backed, ornate chair—an unmistakable gesture of respect and recognition.

Oswald's face bore the strain of exhaustion and tension. Pale skin, sunken eyes, and trembling lips betrayed his frailty. Despite his haggard state, the prince mustered the strength to speak.

"Thank you for helping me depose my father, Count Michael. Is it time for me to return to my kingdom now?"

Michael sipped his wine leisurely before shaking his head. "There's still work to do. Speaking of which, how would you like the Five Tribal Leaders to be handled?"

Oswald and Michael had already forged a secret agreement. Publicly, Oswald would travel to the Kingdom of Lania to sign a formal treaty, pledging to pay massive reparations and refrain from invading for the next 100 years. Privately, however, their pact included the return of lost Xerxian territory to Michael's family and the restoration of the Crassus clan's diminished stature. Excavation teams had already been dispatched to the ancient ruins of the Xerxian kingdom.

"If possible, I'd prefer for their return to be delayed by about a year after my reinstatement," Oswald replied. "It would make governing the empire more manageable."

Michael smirked internally. No matter how much time he buys, it won't be easy. Once the tribal leaders return, chaos will erupt across the empire. And I certainly won't let them consolidate power.

He envisioned the Pamir Empire fracturing like ancient China during the era of the Five Barbarians and Sixteen Kingdoms. Oblivious to Michael's thoughts, Oswald handed over the signed treaty, extending his hand for a handshake.

"So, shall we head to Rania's capital together now?" Oswald asked nervously. Officially, he remained Michael's prisoner—a charade to maintain the secrecy of their alliance.

The next step involved traveling with the detained tribal leaders to the Lania capital for a humiliating peace conference. Despite the circumstances, Oswald felt at ease, knowing Michael had promised his release. Loyal Chancellor Mufasa was already preparing the ransom to secure his freedom, after which Oswald could return to claim the throne.

Michael smiled as he addressed Oswald. "As we discussed, the tribal leaders can be released about a year later, correct?"

Oswald grinned in agreement. Once an intimidating enemy, Michael now seemed like an indispensable ally. "That would be ideal. What pretext will you use?"

Michael leaned closer, lowering his voice. "I believe there are imperial forces with ties to the five tribes. Use them to stage an attack on my domain."

Oswald's eyes widened in shock. "You're asking me to attack your territory?"

With a faint smile, Michael raised a hand to forestall Oswald's protest. "Not a real attack. Target the lake area in the Argo Mountains, where we're constructing facilities for future use. Burn and destroy the buildings there, but ensure there are no casualties."