In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Dominic nodded enthusiastically, face glowing with satisfaction.

"Excellent. Truly excellent. And I trust all other preparations are progressing smoothly?"

Arnaldo's eyes gleamed.

With abundant funding, efficient management, and capable vassals,

they were finally approaching the very vision they'd long dreamed of achieving in their lifetimes.

"Have no fear. Everything is proceeding on schedule.

Even compared to the combined forces of the nobility of the Rania Kingdom, we have nothing to be ashamed of."

Dominic burst out laughing at Arnaldo's bold declaration.

Just thinking about the progress of his domain—thanks to his son, Michael—was enough to make him smile in his sleep.

"Ha! At last, we can make the Radiant Kingdom pay for the atrocities they committed in the northeastern province.

I look forward to it. Truly, I do."

Arnaldo felt the same.

Once branded a heretic and burned alive by the Radiant Kingdom, his hatred ran deeper than most.

He murmured under his breath,

"This is nothing but karma."

Michael and Alfred had returned to the Crassus territory.

The iron-reinforced gates of the stronghold opened smoothly, and the two entered without delay.

Marcus and Miaomiao, clearly exhausted, were fast asleep, oblivious to the world.

Inside the domain, preparations for war were in full swing.

Though the common people remained unaware, within the stronghold's walls, a tense atmosphere loomed.

In the armory, soldiers were inspecting helmets and armor, repairing any damaged gear.

At the forge, the clang of hammer striking steel echoed constantly.

Blacksmiths with powerful forearms gripped glowing metal and hammered it into the shape of military swords and spears.

These were not the inferior swords once sold to neighboring domains.

The blades were sharpened and refined through precise craftsmanship.

Even the faint patterns etched along the blade were more than just decoration—

They were specialized runes developed by Leonardo, in collaboration with alchemists and blacksmiths.

Every soldier of Crassus would be armed with these weapons when they marched to war.

The shields were no less impressive.

They were not the usual wood and metal combinations but reinforced with specially treated black steel, designed to withstand the tip of a spear.

Their smooth, solid surfaces resisted even the harshest impact.

In the stronghold's training grounds, knights were drilling with disciplined precision.

Clad in blue cloaks, the elite knights of Crassus swung their swords with flawless coordination.

Soldiers with shields and long spears practiced formation maneuvers, their weapon tips flashing in perfect sync.

"Faster! Stronger! One mistake on the battlefield means death!"

The drillmaster's shout rang out, and the young knights struck harder, sweat pouring from their brows.

The soldiers were no different—focused, intense, driven.

Watching them, Michael gave a satisfied nod.

The training manuals he had designed and distributed were clearly being followed well.

As he crossed the training grounds, he closely observed the troops.

Every soldier wore armor etched with the crest of House Crassus.

For this war, Michael thought, I will take no peasants or conscripts—only trained soldiers.

Judging by their discipline and condition, it seemed entirely feasible.

After inspecting the training grounds, Michael and Alfred exited the stronghold.

A gentle early-autumn breeze flowed through the fields.

Golden crops shimmered in the light, swaying like waves with each gust of wind.

Throughout the summer, the skies had offered just the right amount of rain, and the sun shone warmly but never harshly—allowing the crops to flourish.

It was all thanks to Michael's weather-control magic, though the farmers were unaware of it.

Not that it mattered—

everyone in the territory already believed their thriving land was thanks to Lord Michael.

Rain nourished the fields, enriching the soil.

Under the radiant sun, the earth stored energy.

Combined with advanced agricultural techniques and specialized fertilizers, this year's harvest was one of the most bountiful in memory.

Across the territory, unusual scenes unfolded.

Magical beasts pulled carts through the fields, and scythes attached to the carts cut through wheat stalks as they passed.

All the farmers had to do was follow behind and gather the fallen grain.

Delighted, they straightened their backs and gazed skyward.

Their foreheads glistened with sweat, but their faces radiated pride.

"This is a real harvest year! I haven't seen wheat ripen this richly in years!"

One farmer brushed his hand through the stalks with admiration.

The heavy, solid grains pressed firmly against his fingers—

the weight of a fully ripened crop unmistakable.

The others nodded in agreement.

"You're telling me. I came from beyond the mountain range, where the land's barren as a rock. But here? It's like the earth understands what I say. Never had farming been this easy in my whole life."

"It's all thanks to our lord. Last year he had the irrigation system rebuilt, so we've had no water problems at all!"

At the mention of Michael, the farmers all nodded in unison.

Water was always the problem.

Too much rain caused floods; too little dried the fields.

But Crassus had suffered neither—

Thanks to the combined efforts of mages and magical beasts, the entire irrigation system had been overhauled.

"Indeed," said an elderly man, stretching his back and looking toward the sky.

"Since Lord Michael arrived, everything's changed for the better."

His gaze drifted toward the distant sky, bathed in soft sunlight.

The old man had lived here for many years.

After the previous ruling family was wiped out by a curse, the land lay empty—until House Crassus took over.

His son had been chosen to work in the mines, and the old man had returned to his hometown.

He could hardly describe the transformation that had followed.

Tears welled in the wrinkles of his weathered face.

Now his son received regular wages—and bonuses. Their household had never been more prosperous.

And his grandson, recently discovered to have a talent for numbers, was now enrolled in the civil servant training academy.

Graduating from that school would guarantee a lifetime career and even the chance to work as one of the lord's close aides.

All of it—thanks to the lord.

May you live a long, healthy life, dear Lord Michael…

Outside the stronghold, a massive cauldron simmered on the streets.