In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

"Damn it… it hurts so much."

His palm bore a dark burn in the exact shape of the pendant. The moment he had refused the offer to absorb mana, a searing pain had erupted in his hand.

Shivers ran down his spine. What is this? Am I cursed? The memory of that grotesque woman from his dream resurfaced, sending fresh waves of fear through him.

He resolved to investigate. There might be clues in the family's collection of books. If not, he'd have to look in the castle's library.

After applying a quick poultice to his burned hand, Michael approached Alfred, who had just finished overseeing the funeral. Despite his fear, Michael knew he had to tell the truth.

Alfred and Michael walked in silence along the forest trail. The only sounds were the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant rustling of branches. Michael was the first to break the silence.

"Grandfather," he began, his voice steady despite the tension in his chest. "Have you heard the news? My brother Lincoln is dead, and I've been named the heir to the barony."

Alfred's jet-black eyes, inscrutable as always, fixated on Michael.

"I already know. It is your rightful claim. You don't need to explain it to me."

Michael hesitated before speaking. "But I don't want to leave home. I was thinking... maybe I could commute to the castle for training and administration?"

Alfred paused, considering the suggestion before shaking his head. "Living here while traveling back and forth daily would be unreasonable. You'll move into the castle. Your uncle and aunt will accompany you to settle in. I'll finish my tasks here and follow shortly."

A weight lifted slightly off Michael's chest. If he wouldn't be entirely separated from his family, moving into the castle might not be so bad.

He drew a deep breath. It was time to broach the real topic.

"Grandfather... have you ever heard stories about people waking up in someone else's body after a near-death experience? Or finding themselves in an entirely different world?"

Alfred came to an abrupt halt. Michael nearly bumped into his back before steadying himself.

"...Is that what happened to you?"

The unspoken wall of pretense between them shattered. Michael had no more room to back away now. Would Alfred treat him like a stranger? Cast him out?

For a fleeting moment, Michael's mind raced with horrifying images—being exorcised like an evil spirit, his existence wiped away by some holy rite.

Then Alfred spoke.

"There's no need to explain. I summoned you."

Michael blinked in shock, his head snapping up to meet Alfred's gaze. What does he mean by that?

"When you fell from the wall and entered a coma, I had only one option left: to bring you back. The ritual succeeded, and you woke. I don't know where you came from or what kind of life you lived before. But one thing is certain—you cannot summon a soul that is not linked to the body. Whether your memories are from a past life or the life ahead, you are still my grandson. So don't be afraid. I will never harm you."

Relief washed over Michael, so profound it made his knees weak. He was safe.

The question of whether he was Michael's reincarnation or an interloper faded into irrelevance. Whatever the case, Alfred acknowledged him as his grandson.

The two sat on a fallen tree trunk.

"Do Uncle and Aunt Clara know about this?" Michael asked cautiously.

"They don't need to. Unless you choose to reveal it, no one else will know. And I'd prefer you live as Michael."

That made sense. Having accepted his situation, Michael resolved to embrace this life fully.

"How did you figure it out? That I wasn't... the original Michael?"

"I can see through to the essence of things. But don't worry—no one else can discern it unless they've been intimately familiar with you."

Michael fidgeted, tracing patterns in the dirt with his shoe. He looked up hesitantly.

"Can I still call you Grandfather?"

"Of course. You're my grandson. Who else would call me that?"

Alfred's voice was gruff but carried a warmth that made Michael's chest ache.

"In your old world, what kind of life did you live?" Alfred asked, his tone even.

"I was much older than I am now. An orphan—I never knew my parents, and I never married. But I worked hard and lived decently. The world I came from was more advanced than this one—no social classes, lots of advanced technology. I was a soldier, piloting something called a 'fighter jet.' It's like an artifact that flies. My last memory is showing off some aerial maneuvers before crashing... and waking up here."

Alfred was silent for a moment before asking, "Do you regret ending up here?"

Michael met his grandfather's gaze squarely. "Not at all. Never."

After sending Michael back home, Alfred continued his walk deeper into the forest.

A rustling sound came from the bushes behind him.

"Mrow."

A small black kitten emerged, its emerald eyes gleaming. Its fur was sleek as ink, and it moved with deliberate grace.

"Alfred, why didn't you tell him the whole truth?"

The kitten's words were unmistakably human, yet Alfred showed no surprise.

"What truth didn't I tell him?" Alfred responded flatly.

"He's Michael's soul, but not entirely. You have a duty, don't you? To eliminate the foreign entity. Why are you keeping him alive?"

Alfred raised his hand, and dark tendrils of shadow snaked out, enveloping the kitten and lifting it into the air.

"Eek! What are you doing?! You can't punish someone just for speaking their mind!"

"He is my grandson. Say one more word, and I will not be so lenient."

The kitten flailed its legs helplessly before being dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

"Fine! But what if the foreign deity claims him? What will you do then? By then, it'll be too late!"

Alfred's voice was icy and resolute. "I will seal her myself."