In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Soup was being cooked as part of a charity program organized by Phoebe and Kate—

an effort to ensure that no one in the territory went hungry.

Passersby gratefully received bowls of soup as they passed the steaming cauldron.

At that moment, Michael, clad in a black hood and accompanied by his grandfather Alfred, had just stepped outside the keep.

Before diving into full-scale war preparations, he wanted to see the state of his territory for himself—how the people were feeling, whether things were going well.

Taking a spoonful of soup handed to him by a generously built middle-aged woman, Michael took a sip and glanced at his grandfather.

"It's not exactly gourmet," he said, "but it's hearty. Plenty of meat and vegetables."

Alfred, sipping his own bowl, nodded with quiet satisfaction.

"Yes… Above all else, the foundation of everything is simple: sustaining life. Those young women are doing well."

Michael's face warmed with a smile as he thought of Phoebe and Kate.

"They're kind-hearted. They know how to share what they have… and they understand the pain of others."

Alfred nodded again.

"Well, their mother was a merchant, wasn't she?"

Michael agreed.

After all, it's often those who have lacked something in life who know the value of giving.

Once they finished their soup, they stood and brushed themselves off.

It was time to explore the town.

On the road toward the village entrance, farmers were carrying overflowing baskets of grain.

Wheat and barley, ripe and golden, were stacked like mountains.

From the orchards, the sweet scent of fruit wafted on the breeze.

"Tell you what, the gods truly blessed us this year!"

"No, it's all thanks to our lord! Ever since the irrigation channels were rebuilt, we haven't had to worry about drought!"

Farmers laughed and exchanged cheerful conversation in the fields.

Harvested families sat in small groups eating lunch, praising each other's hard work.

Children dashed around clutching freshly picked corn, fighting playfully over who got the biggest ear.

At the center of town, a bustling marketplace had sprung up.

Merchants, officially approved by the keep, displayed their trade permits proudly in front of their carts.

Anyone without one would quickly be driven off—sometimes even chased away by the angry townsfolk.

With Crassus's growing reputation for prosperity, merchants from all over had flocked to its gates, bringing a bounty of goods with them.

"Fresh fish! Just caught from the coast!"

"Fragrant honey and sweet jams—kids love them!"

"Hey, check this out! Fabric from the Eastern countries—never felt anything this soft!"

From every corner came sounds of haggling and laughter.

Children ran through the market with treats smeared around their mouths.

Elderly visitors sipped tea as they chatted about politics and the world beyond.

Michael smiled at the sight, and so did Alfred.

As they continued along the road, the wind carried the bright laughter of children.

In the village's central school, classes were in session.

In other territories, only the nobility or wealthy could afford education.

But here, anyone could learn.

This school was a project Michael had personally invested his heart into—

so that children could read, learn numbers, and view the world through a broader lens.

"People must be educated," Michael said quietly.

"That's right," Alfred agreed. "To learn and to think—that is what makes us human."

Michael rose slightly on tiptoe and peeked through a glass window into the classroom.

"Alright, write what the teacher just said. 'The sunlight is warm.'"

"S… Sunlight… is… wa-warm…"

Little hands gripped pens tightly, and though their writing was clumsy, the children were earnest and focused.

In the next room, older students listened to a geography and history lesson with maps unfurled before them.

"The Argo Mountains play an important role in trade for our territory. And up front flows a river, allowing for trade by boat."

"So through here, we can exchange goods with other countries and territories!"

Michael, standing just beyond the door, smiled at their enthusiasm.

His territory was no longer a simple agricultural province.

It was blossoming into a center of knowledge and culture.

Beside the school, a building operated as a communal kitchen.

Women served steaming food from large pots, ensuring that every student received three meals a day.

"Come in! Were you studying hard today? We've got pumpkin soup and freshly baked bread."

"Thank you! It smells amazing!"

The children received their food with shining eyes and bright thank-yous.

The portions were a little more generous than the soup served earlier—intentionally so, to ensure growing children got the nutrients they needed.

Down the road, artists performed in the open streets.

A bard strummed a harp, singing gentle songs of autumn.

Street performers put on a puppet show, drawing giggles and wonder from the gathered children.

Michael lingered for a long while, taking in the scene.

"…It's lovely."

Alfred, too, watched the puppet show with warm eyes.

The black-haired puppet reminded him of someone.

When the show ended, they continued down the lane.

An old man, seeing the two strangers cloaked in hoods, approached with friendly curiosity.

"You look new around here, friends. Lost, are you?"

"No," Michael replied with a smile. "Just curious. Wanted to see what kind of place this is."

"Well, you've come to the right place," the old man said with a chuckle.

"Thanks to our lord, we live like proper folk now."

He turned to gaze at the distant sky, speaking softly.

"No more corrupt officials bleeding us dry. No more empty stomachs. Our kids go to school, the markets are full of life… A few years ago, I'd never have dreamed I'd be living like this."

Michael nodded quietly.

The old man, seeing his refusal, insisted on pressing a few candies into Michael's hand, then turned and wandered off.

His retreating figure radiated simple, contented joy.

Michael looked at Alfred and grinned playfully.

He unwrapped one of the candies and popped it into his grandfather's mouth.

Alfred blinked, startled, then laughed.

"Hoho… You rascal."

As Michael walked through his domain, his heart brimmed with warmth.

This was the world he had dreamed of—

A world he had built—

And these… were his people.

Once again, he reaffirmed his resolve:

For these people, for this world…

He would fight to the very end—and he would win.