In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Chapter 26: Chapter 26



The most plausible explanation was that Count Charles intended to use the allied nobles as cannon fodder in a decisive battle against the fanatics.

As the murmurs among the nobles grew louder, Baron Kensington stepped in to restore order. Excitement before the battle was counterproductive.

Some nobles were already discussing how to divide the nonexistent spoils and redistribute wealth from the Crowley lands, as if the fanatics were already defeated. The alliance had turned into a raucous afternoon marketplace.

Michael approached Baron Kensington quietly, preferring not to speak up himself lest he draw the ire of the frenzied nobles.

"Enough! Stop this nonsense," Baron Kensington bellowed. "Arguing over spoils we don't even have yet is pointless. Count Charles's orders are clear: we must reach the fortress within two days. If we fail to do so, there will be no rewards. Let us move now to make the deadline instead of wasting time here."

His words, like cold water dousing a fire, calmed the nobles. They weren't fools; their excitement over Count Charles's unprecedented proclamation had simply clouded their judgment.

Exchanging knowing glances, the nobles returned to their camps, eager to set off ahead of the others. Every step gained on their rivals would mean greater influence in the division of spoils.

Watching the nobles scurry about, Michael returned to his camp at a leisurely pace. There was no point in rushing. They were bound together as an alliance, and reaching the fortress a step earlier would change nothing. Most of the nobles would likely not even be admitted to the negotiations.

Having secured an agreement with Baron Kensington, Michael moved with deliberate calm. The road to Bartelberg Fortress was rugged due to the mountain range, but it wasn't particularly far. As long as they maintained a steady pace, they would arrive on time.

The allied minor nobles marched with an air of grandeur. Though their formations lacked discipline, the sight of over a thousand people traveling together along the same path was undeniably impressive.

Hans and Jonathan, soldiers from Crassus Barony, surveyed the scene around them, feeling a surge of pride.

"There's no other domain like ours," Hans remarked.

While soldiers from other domains trudged along in small, disorganized groups, often carrying little more than a bundle of belongings, the soldiers from Crassus Barony marched in neat, orderly formations. Their matching uniforms and packs made them stand out, drawing admiration from onlookers.

Their pride swelled to its peak. This, they believed, was all thanks to Michael.

By the next day, the watchtower of Bartelberg Fortress came into view. As they neared the fortress, the nobles at the front of the march gathered together, tension building.

The further they descended from the mountains, the more frequent the fanatics' sporadic ambushes became. These fanatics, devoid of chivalry or morality, were truly despicable beings. But then again, that was to be expected of fanatics.

Adopting a cautious strategy, Michael had positioned his forces in the middle of the procession, ensuring he lost no soldiers. In contrast, nobles at the edges of the march had already suffered significant losses.

In the distance, the gates of the fortress came into view. The reason for Count Charles's urgency became clear—the fortress was under attack.

The fanatics, startled by the sudden arrival of the allied minor nobles, halted their assault and let out incoherent screams before charging toward them. Their ferocity was unsettling.

Though still some distance away, it was only a matter of time before the two forces clashed.

"Knights! There is no retreat in our vocabulary. Follow me!" Baron Kensington shouted as he spurred his horse forward.

Other nobles and lords quickly followed, galloping ahead in an impromptu charge.

Michael was taken aback.

"Why? Why aren't they advancing with their soldiers?" he wondered.

Sensing his hesitation, his father, Baron Crassus, spoke in a gentle but urging tone.

"Come now, Michael. I understand you're nervous for your first battle, but we must join them quickly."

As a trained officer, Michael couldn't agree. While he wasn't against charging, such reckless advances were not his style.

He turned to his father.

"Father, these aren't knights we're fighting. Charging in like this could lead to disaster. I'm not saying we shouldn't charge, but we need to wait for the right moment."

Baron Crassus hesitated but decided to trust his son's judgment. Michael had proven his worth in the past, and there was no reason to doubt him now.

Meanwhile, Michael climbed to the highest vantage point he could find, scanning the battlefield. His gaze met that of Sir Ronald, who seemed eager to join the fray.

"Sir Ronald, lead the soldiers and follow me. We're going to flank from the left," Michael commanded.

At that moment, Baron Kensington was leading a direct charge into the fanatics' front lines. His massive greatsword cleaved through six fanatics in one swing.

The knights following him, though less skilled, fought valiantly. But a frontal assault carried immense risk.

One knight was pulled from his horse and brutally butchered. It was clear the fanatics had no intention of sparing captives or bargaining for ransom.

Michael drew his bow. It was time to aim for the enemy commander.

Before setting out for the expedition, Michael visited Greg, the village's most skilled blacksmith, and assigned him a special task: crafting a steel bow.

The longbow Michael had received from his uncle, made of yew wood, had broken after only a few hunts. Whether it was due to Michael's extraordinary strength or the bow's age, it hadn't lasted long.

Hearing Michael's request, Greg stroked his beard and his eyes lit up with excitement.

"Haha, to undertake such a challenge at my age—it's intriguing! Could you check if there's any magic steel in the castle's storage? It's far more flexible and durable than regular steel. If you channel your aura into it, it would be perfect. My family has passed down a technique for tempering magic steel, and I'd love to try it for this occasion."

Eagerly, Michael had the steward open the estate's armory, where they found a stash of magic steel stored carefully in a corner. That rare resource became the foundation for Michael's steel bow.


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