In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities-Chapter 285: The Predetermined Path

"Exactly. He's stronger than ever. Still… maybe it's not such a bad thing. Since he's with the lord, he'll probably show some respect. That means we'll have some room to breathe."

Trying to look confident, Aaron dusted off his collar and watched Michael approaching. Just imagining that monster of a man bowing and acknowledging his new title gave him an odd sense of pride.

But then—

"You're here! This is my maternal grandfather," Michael introduced. "Grandfather, these are the new advisors I've taken on."

Aaron screamed internally at the revelation. So that was Michael's maternal grandfather—Alfred had recognized him, making the situation even more miserable.

"…Ah. Pleased to meet you. I am Alfred," the old man said.

Aaron shakily reached out to grasp Alfred's offered hand, suppressing his trembling.

Why is the world so cruel to me?! he lamented inwardly.

Michael soon departed for the capital, leading a group of house knights and a few mages assisting in the territory. With each beat of Marcus's wings, the Crassus domain faded into the distance.

Alfred flew behind on his own beast, while Dominic rode atop one of his own magical creatures. Glancing to the side, Michael looked toward Miaomiao, the flying beast carrying only his sister Elizabeth.

He had been concerned about how she would handle her first flight, but she appeared to be enjoying it. In fact, she looked thrilled. True to Miaomiao's fondness for all things beautiful, the creature treated Elizabeth with the utmost care.

[You okay? Tell me if it gets rough, okay-rang?]

Elizabeth smiled as the wind brushed her cheeks.

"No need to worry. I'm doing great. I never knew flying could feel this wonderful. Thank you for looking after me, Nephertari."

Her long hair danced in the wind, and the smile on her face made her appear radiant.

The knights and mages flying beside Miaomiao on Marcus blushed as they watched her. Depending on one's taste, she and Princess Astrid could be considered the two most beautiful women in all of the Kingdom of Lania. Where Astrid exuded innocence, Elizabeth possessed a refined, classical elegance.

As Michael observed his sister, his thoughts drifted toward her future marriage. Now that he had assumed the title of Grand Duke, Elizabeth's status easily matched that of any high noblewoman. Combined with her stunning beauty, she would be a desirable match by any standard.

Still, Michael quickly dismissed the thought. If Elizabeth had no intention of marrying yet, neither he nor their father had any reason to interfere. Especially now, when Princess Astrid's influence had elevated women's social standing significantly.

If fate brings someone to her, she'll let us know.

Redirecting his gaze, Michael turned his mind toward the state of the capital.

I just hope he survives until I arrive.

For the sake of the plans ahead, Charles V needed to remain alive. Even if his health had deteriorated and Astrid had to take over the affairs of state, he still had to remain as a symbolic figure—for now.

If the same poison used on Michael had been used on the king, then the solution would be straightforward. He could simply absorb the foreign magic and neutralize it.

But…

He reconsidered, this time with a cold clarity.

Was Charles V truly friendly toward him?

So far, yes—at least enough to allow a marriage between his only daughter and Michael. But was that enough to consider him truly an ally?

The answer, Michael concluded, was no.

Given the trials he and the Crassus family were likely to face, half-hearted alliances would not suffice.

With sharp, calculating eyes, Michael made a decision.

For now, I'll save his life. The rest… can wait.

It would be ideal if the king remained too weak to meddle deeply in politics. Even if that made him seem cold toward his future father-in-law, it couldn't be helped.

Ever since the day he disposed of Crown Prince Randolph, this path had already been set.

Late at night, beneath a dim moonlit sky, a line of massive flying beasts soared over the capital. The sky was draped in dark clouds, and the sight of so many magical beasts approaching was nothing short of spectacular.

Unaware of what had happened at the palace, ordinary citizens, recognizing Marcus—the majestic beast ridden by Michael—cheered and launched fireworks into the air in celebration.

From atop Marcus, Michael gazed down upon the capital. Between densely packed buildings, spires weathered by time stretched toward the heavens. At the heart of it all, the royal palace stood illuminated, glowing brightly in the night.

"We're arriving soon. Prepare to descend onto the ramparts," he said calmly. The knights mounted on their own flying beasts rose to attention at his voice.

The outer walls had a landing platform wide enough to accommodate Marcus's enormous wingspan. With a graceful motion, Marcus descended, using his long, flexible tail for balance.

Several of the mages who had ridden with Michael groaned as they dismounted, some even rolling off in exhaustion. They had insisted on accompanying him to the capital, despite their aging bodies not being suited for such a grueling journey.

The landing area was lined with magical lamps. As Michael stepped down, guards approached and saluted him with discipline and reverence.

At the entrance to the palace, two familiar figures waited.

Princess Astrid stood with elegance, her refined dress impeccably arranged. But the radiant smile that usually lit up her face was gone. The cold night air of the capital accentuated her pale skin, and shadows of worry and fatigue clung to her expression.

"Michael, thank you for coming. I've been waiting for you," she said, her eyes slightly reddened. She was doing her best to appear composed, but Michael could see how hard she was trying to hold herself together.

He stepped forward and embraced her gently.

"Of course I came. I'm sorry you had to face this alone."

Astrid forced a smile, but her lips trembled.

Standing beside her was Duke Capone, his slicked-back hair and luxurious cloak lending him a distinguished air. Yet even he looked pale, his tight-lipped expression betraying how shaken he was.