In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

The room remained heavy with silence, and the expressions on the attendees' faces were a mixture of exhaustion and confusion.

And the reason was simple.

Michael's bombshell declaration.

That he was the heir of a forgotten kingdom.

That he intended to restore that kingdom to its rightful place.

That single announcement had shaken everyone's composure.

The silence of Emperor Oswald of the Pamir Empire had only deepened their confusion.

In the end…

The matters concerning the Holy Empire and the war strategy were left unresolved.

No decisions. No commitments.

Just an awkward, anticlimactic conclusion to the day.

"Then… shall we reconvene tomorrow to discuss the remaining points?"

King Romano II, as the summit's host, tried to regain some dignity as he posed the question.

It was a little late for that, perhaps, but still necessary.

Surprisingly, Michael gave him a gentle smile.

A smile that spoke of complete composure—fully aware of his advantage, yet not condescending.

He gave Romano the courtesy he needed to save face.

"Of course. Thank you for your hospitality."

Romano forced a smile in return.

His lips curved upward, but it never quite reached his eyes.

It was the smile of a puppet on strings—nothing more.

Inside, his thoughts were a tangled storm.

Should he now regard Michael as a mere duke?

Or as the rightful king of a nation reborn?

Michael was not simply the heir to a noble family.

If his claim was true, he was the legitimate successor to a fallen kingdom.

A man with ambition—to see that kingdom restored.

The Pamir Empire and Rania had offered no protest.

Who, then, had the right to object?

The political balance of the continent was already beginning to shift.

Every ruler present was thinking the same thing:

Should Michael still be treated as a noble duke?

Or must they now recognize him as a king?

And at the center of all this uncertainty sat Michael himself—quietly smiling, as though all of this had unfolded just as he predicted.

Romano II exhaled deeply.

What good was worrying now?

Michael was no ordinary man.

He was the Divine Archer—his arrows never missed their mark.

A god of death to his enemies, and a beacon of hope to his people.

He was a war hero, victorious in countless battles.

Many enemy soldiers fled the moment they heard his name.

He had restored a ruined baronial house through sheer strength and brilliance.

He was the master of both a dragon and a sphinx—beings of legend, tamed by none before.

More than a warrior, he had mythic power at his fingertips.

And now it was revealed—he was the true master of the Zirac Trading Company, holder of immense wealth and influence.

The company that controlled more gold and resources than any other on the continent.

And now, that man had declared himself a king.

Could anyone stop him?

Did such a person even exist?

He had not declared the founding of a new nation.

He had declared his right to reclaim what was already his.

Romano II glanced down—and only then realized his hand was clenched into a tight fist.

This wasn't negotiation.

The scales had already tipped.

No matter what anyone said—no matter how they resisted—things would unfold exactly as Michael intended.

That was the reality.

The Pamir Empire and Rania had accepted it.

Everyone else would have to follow.

Now, the question was no longer "Can we stop him?"

It was "How do we survive the storm that's coming?"

Michael turned to Romano II and spoke softly.

"From tomorrow, please prepare a seat for the Kingdom of Xerke."

Of course.

He wasn't a duke anymore.

Romano exhaled again, unaware of how weary he'd become.

A new era was dawning.

And neither he nor his kingdom felt ready for it.

The summit ended without a single clear resolution.

The grand chamber, with its towering marble walls and domed ceiling, now held only the weight of silence.

Exhausted gazes and deep sighs lingered over the table as those gathered slowly rose from their seats.

Of all the delegations present, only the representatives from the Kingdom of Lania wore content expressions.

They waited patiently until every other envoy had left, savoring the composure of victors.

Once the hall had emptied, Duke Capone stepped into the corridor, escorted by knights.

His posture was as if shielding those walking behind him.

Behind him followed Princess Astrid and Michael, their steps calm and unhurried.

Alfred, bringing up the rear, also walked with a subtle protectiveness, his presence like an unspoken shield.

Outside, night had already fallen. The flames atop the castle walls flickered in the wind.

Through a corridor window, pale moonlight filtered in softly.

"In the end, everything went exactly as we hoped," Duke Capone said, his voice low but full of quiet triumph.

"A good outcome indeed," he added, smiling. "Not a single objection—what surprised me most was that even Emperor Sigmund of the Celeste Empire remained quiet."

Astrid gave a faint smile, the moonlight gracing her features and making her beauty even more radiant.

There was a regal dignity in the way she carried herself, befitting the ruler she was to become.

"The emperor's reaction was unexpected, but most of the others moved just as we anticipated."

Michael smiled brightly and gently placed his hand over hers.

Astrid's cheeks flushed slightly as she looked up at him beside her.

"Yes… it was a good outcome."

Duke Capone looked at Michael with pride.

But Michael remained calm, his expression unreadable, as though replaying the day's events in his mind.

Together, they made their way to the residence prepared for them inside the castle.

Their quarters included a private dining area and kitchen—not a lavish banquet hall, but a small, warm space designed for comfort and practicality.

Firewood crackled softly in the hearth, casting a gentle warmth, while enchanted golden candles bathed the room in soft light.

Dinner had already been served, prepared by chefs they had brought from Lania.

At the center of the table sat roasted lamb, seasoned generously with fresh herbs and spices.

A small pot steamed with venison stew, slow-cooked in red wine.

Soft bread, fine cheese, marinated olives, and nuts were arranged nearby.