In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Sigmund awoke as though rising from a deep and comforting darkness.

His body felt lighter than ever.

Though it didn't seem like much time had passed, it felt as if he'd been asleep for ages.

His senses were astonishingly sharp. Even the air felt clear and pure.

When he opened his eyes, an ivory-colored ceiling filled his vision.

He inhaled slowly.

His mind was clear, and his body felt more refreshed than it ever had.

Every muscle in his body stirred awake. Vitality seeped deep into his bones.

'Why…?'

Confusion crept in.

He recalled the previous night—a raucous drinking party.

The alcohol had flowed endlessly, poured until his mind turned hazy.

Nonstop chatter and laughter, the clinking of glasses and applause…

All of it returned to him vividly.

With that kind of drinking, he should've woken up with a splitting headache, a heavy body, and a churning stomach.

Yet here he was, feeling as light as air.

'He definitely drank a ridiculous amount… so why does his body feel so light?'

Sigmund lifted his hand.

Normally after drinking, his fingers would swell so much that the signet ring he wore would be nearly impossible to remove.

But today was different.

The ring slipped off with startling ease.

The headache that usually tormented him after drinking? Gone. Completely.

His gaze drifted to the side, settling on the sleeping forms of the sphinx and the dragon.

Whatever had happened during the night, he had somehow ended up lying between them.

He slowly lowered his head.

His stomach felt heavy, and when he looked down, the massive, jet-black head of the sphinx lay comfortably across his abdomen.

The soft, dense fur radiated warmth, like it had absorbed sunlight. Heavy, but cozy.

Without even thinking, Sigmund reached out and stroked the sphinx's head.

The plush fur slipped through his fingers like a velvet stream.

Smooth and supple, yet resilient.

Not even the finest velvet could compare.

The creature murmured and curled up tighter.

Its unique scent tickled his nose—

The smell of desert wind,

The scent of sun-kissed sand.

A fragrance he could never tire of. It brought with it a strange sense of peace.

A smile tugged at his lips.

Just then, a wave of heat spread across the crown of his head.

'What is this warmth?'

He slowly turned his head.

Right above him, the dragon's breath continuously wafted over his scalp.

Marcus.

Marcus was snoring softly, his nose practically pressed against the top of Sigmund's head.

Their proximity allowed the dragon's breath to reach him directly.

Its sturdy scales shimmered faintly in the sunlight.

The dragon's breathing was deep and slow.

Each time Marcus snored, his chest would rise and fall like a tide.

There was something oddly soothing about the dragon's breath—

It brought to mind the warmth of logs burning by a hearth.

Both the dragon and the sphinx were roughly his size.

They must have shrunk themselves.

Sigmund cautiously reached out and touched the dragon's body.

The scales were smoother than expected, subtle curves trailing beneath his palm.

The dragon's breathing deepened, and a slow smile curved its lips, as if enjoying the touch.

Surrounded by comforting textures and warm breath, Sigmund stared up at the ceiling, his expression growing thoughtful.

He remembered something his mother used to whisper to him when he was young:

"If you keep a divine beast close, all your illnesses will vanish, and your body will grow healthy and strong. You'll live a long, long life. Zik, if I could, I'd bring a divine beast to stay by your side. Then you wouldn't be so sick all the time."

Though she had always been the frailer one, she constantly worried about him.

Back then, it had sounded like a fairytale.

Now, it felt real.

To awaken beside divine beasts and feel so light, with every pain miraculously gone—

It was nothing short of magical.

'Could it really be true?'

He once again felt the softness of the sphinx's fur and the heat of the dragon's breath around him.

A ridiculous thought began to echo in his mind.

'Is this… the blessing of a divine beast? Is that why his health has returned?'

Unaware of the conclusion Sigmund was reaching, Michael waved cheerfully at him.

"Hey, sleep well? How's your body feeling?"

Sigmund stared blankly at Michael.

"…Hey. Are you healthy?"

Michael tilted his head.

"Uh, yeah? I guess so. Most knights are, aren't they?"

Sigmund, now dead serious, asked again.

"No, I'm not talking about that. Even knights get minor illnesses—like colds or hangovers. Don't you have any memory of getting sick?"

Michael paused, thinking.

Back on Earth, he'd caught colds and stomach bugs before, but ever since arriving here, not once.

He answered honestly.

"I guess… I haven't had even a sniffle in years."

"How long has it been?"

"Hmm… maybe a year or two?"

That lined up perfectly with when Michael became the master of the dragon and the sphinx.

Sigmund's gaze shifted once again to the purring sphinx and slumbering Marcus.

The sphinx was still resting its head on Sigmund's stomach, breathing softly as if in a dream, while the dragon remained peacefully asleep.

Though their appearances resembled those of affectionate pets, Sigmund knew better.

Their presence alone radiated an immense power, something innate from the moment of their birth.

"Not even a cold in the last couple of years? No hangovers? How is that even possible?"

He reflected on his own condition, and that of the knights who served as his guards.

Though he'd become a knight through nearly drowning himself in potions, it wasn't as if the transformation came with miraculous bodily change.

Sigmund slowly ran his hand through the sphinx's soft fur.

A gentle, mysterious energy seemed to tingle at his fingertips.

Perhaps the story his mother once told him wasn't mere legend after all.

He swallowed hard.

It all felt… plausible.

Fairy tales and legends often begin as real events, later cloaked in mystery and magic over time.

Maybe they weren't just made-up tales—perhaps someone's lived experiences had simply turned into myth.