In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Charles raised a hand in a subtle signal. A knight stepped forward and removed Philip's gag—not to grant him freedom, but to ensure that every scream of agony would echo through the stable.

Charles seated himself in a nearby chair, his face devoid of emotion. With a nod, the torture began.

As Philip's bloodcurdling screams filled the air, Charles twitched a finger as if conducting a somber requiem for his son.

Michael shrugged at the sounds of agony coming from the abandoned stable.

He had just received news that two coffins had been carried out from the chambers where Elise and Randolph lay. Indeed, the world was a merciless place.

In the royal palace of Lania, Princess Astrid paced barefoot across the cold marble floor of her chamber. The chill of the stone beneath her feet seemed to mirror the unease in her heart.

The late-night silence of the palace was oppressive. Yet, amidst the stillness, Astrid sensed a palpable tension lingering in the air. News from the Orlando fortress had arrived, prompting her father to hastily depart for the frontlines while her mother locked herself in her chambers, refusing food and company.

Astrid moved to the window, gazing out at the view below. From her room at the highest point of the palace, the gardens spread out like a painted masterpiece. As always, the royal gardens of Lania were immaculately maintained. Under the soft glow of the moonlight, blooming roses shimmered faintly.

Ordinarily, the serene beauty of the scene would have brought her comfort, but tonight, it offered no solace. As she stared at the gardens, her thoughts grew heavier. A foreboding feeling gripped her chest, tightening with every breath.

From a distance, Emma, the nursemaid who had cared for Astrid since childhood, watched the young princess anxiously. After a moment of hesitation, Emma approached her quietly, draping a shawl over Astrid's shoulders.

"Princess, you shouldn't walk around barefoot like this. Please, return to bed," Emma pleaded gently.

Astrid turned to Emma, her eyes clouded with unease. After a long moment of hesitation, she finally asked, "Emma, tell me the truth. What rumors are spreading through the palace?"

Emma froze, startled by the sudden question. Astrid, typically reserved and rarely one to voice her thoughts, was looking at her with an intensity that made it impossible to deflect the question.

'My poor princess…' Emma thought, her heart aching with pity. She wanted nothing more than to embrace Astrid and assure her that everything would be fine. But the rumors circulating the palace were grim.

"Princess," Emma began cautiously, "you must steel yourself. Things are… dire. There's a rumor that Crown Prince Randolph has… fallen in battle."

Emma braced herself, expecting Astrid to break down in tears. She couldn't imagine the gentle and soft-spoken princess bearing such devastating news. But to her surprise, Astrid remained calm, her expression composed. After a brief silence, she spoke.

"If my brother had died in battle, my father wouldn't have rushed to the fortress," Astrid reasoned. "I think he's injured… or ill."

Or perhaps… he's done something reckless. Astrid bit her lip, swallowing the thought before it could escape. She couldn't bring herself to say it aloud, though it seemed the most likely possibility.

Emma, caught off guard by the princess's rationality, fumbled for a response. "Well… that's something only the gods can know. Everything happens by their will."

Astrid gazed at Emma in silence, her expression unreadable. Though she appreciated Emma's unwavering loyalty, she knew the nursemaid wasn't someone she could confide in deeply. But then again… there was no one else she could turn to.

"Emma, I hope my brother is safe," Astrid finally said, her voice barely audible. "If he isn't… my mother will blame me."

Emma clasped her hands over her mouth, stifling her sobs. How could anyone imagine that the queen favored her son to the extent of emotionally neglecting her daughter?

Abuse wasn't always physical—it could leave deep emotional scars, too. Emma, well aware of the pain Astrid had endured since childhood, felt her heart ache even more at the princess's quiet confession.

Astrid, leaving Emma to her tears, knelt beside her bed and clasped her hands together. Memories of her brother surfaced—his mocking laughter, the way he hoarded their mother's love as though it were never enough, and the times he had torn up her cherished books, finding amusement in her distress.

She had learned to endure, for no reaction ever stopped his torment. She had borne it all for her father, the only family member who truly loved her.

Clad in a white nightgown, her long golden hair cascading down her back, Astrid closed her eyes. Immersed in her thoughts, she began to pray.

Though she had never been particularly devout or pious, at that moment, she poured her heart into her prayer.

"Oh divine one, whoever you may be, please… let my brother return unharmed. I ask for nothing else. Just don't place me in that precarious position."

When her prayer ended, Astrid reflected on her own selfishness.

'I wasn't praying for my brother's recovery—I was praying for my own safety. Perhaps mother is right. Maybe I am selfish.'

Her mother, who had risen from a count's daughter to a queen, had always emphasized the importance of Astrid's beauty and marriage prospects. Astrid, who once loved riding horses and studying, had been forced to become a living doll under her mother's relentless pressure.

Whenever Astrid expressed a desire to study alongside her brother, her mother accused her of being selfish and greedy. As she grew older, Astrid tried to understand her mother's perspective—the struggles of rising from a mere countess to queen. Randolph, as the crown prince, had solidified her mother's position, earning all her love and attention.

Memories of being beaten until her legs bled for daring to play with Randolph's toys resurfaced. If her mother had reacted so harshly over something so trivial, Astrid shuddered to imagine what would happen if her brother's misfortune thrust her into the role of heir.

She had no desire for conflict. None at all.

'Please… let nothing happen to my brother,' she prayed silently.