In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

It had been some time since the controversial emancipation of the serfs, which Michael had pushed through against strong opposition. Since then, their territory had flourished—enough for even the most hardened knights to see the difference.

They knew now: when the people prosper, so does everyone else.

As Michael walked through the grand halls, he quietly calculated the scope of the estate's assets.

He already had substantial wealth—profits from war, plunder taken by the Drake Pirates from the Radiant Star Kingdom, and astronomical investments being managed by Zilark.

But that didn't mean he'd say no to additional windfalls.

Even the most stoic knights and mages began swallowing their disbelief as the true extent of the castle's riches unfolded before them.

If House Rochester alone had this much, then what would the combined wealth of all the Northwestern noble houses look like?

Their eyes gleamed with sudden realization.

Coming here was the right choice!

Michael and his knights walked slowly through the grand corridors of Rochester Castle. The walls, lined with portraits and ornate paintings, seemed to proclaim the former glory of the fallen house.

One of the knights from Crassus, eyeing the gold-gilded frames, muttered with disdain, "You could feed an entire province with the value of just one of these."

Room after room revealed an avalanche of wealth. The storage rooms were stacked with gold bars, gemstones, luxurious silks, and rare furs. In the duke's private quarters, the safe was so full of jewels that they spilled out in glittering cascades.

Even Michael was taken aback.

If this is what's left after they smuggled out the important stuff…

At a glance from him, the knights began to sort the treasure. Gems and precious metals were packed into secure pouches, while fine fabrics and pelts were loaded onto wagons.

Once the inventory was complete, Michael led the group toward the next castle. Unlike House Rochester, which had managed to evacuate some of its direct family members, most of the other nobles in the Northwestern provinces had left their households behind.

Now, each time the royal punitive force approached a noble residence, wailing echoed through the halls—families realizing that their patriarchs, who had gone off so confidently, were likely already dead.

Few nobles attempted resistance. Most opened their gates in surrender, terrified of the overwhelming power of the Crown's army.

A handful tried to rally soldiers in a final act of defiance, but those efforts ended in bitter failure.

"Capture those traitors! If we're found to support the rebellion, everyone in this land will be executed!"

In many cases, the nobles were betrayed by their own people—bound and dragged out by soldiers and commoners alike, who no longer held any loyalty to them.

That's how little trust the Northwestern nobles had earned. Their people had turned on them without a second thought.

It was a humiliating sight—these once-proud lords dragged out with pale faces by the very subjects they had abused. Even other nobles watching from afar felt a chill run down their spines.

Because, after all, they had exploited their own peasants and serfs in much the same way.

Granted, the nobles of the Northwest had been particularly cruel—but still.

They were witnessing firsthand how fragile power built on suffering truly was.

"…Will my lands turn out like this too?" whispered one noble.

Even the strongest knight was helpless against a mob, unless they were someone of Michael's level.

From behind the nobles, Michael observed them quietly, a faint smile playing on his lips.

It had been worth the effort—stirring up the people of the Northwest using Zilark's merchant guild.

Meanwhile, Pavel, son and heir of Duke Rochester, was leading his family through a secret underground passage.

As the spell inscribed on the ceiling began to tremble, signaling the activation of the doomsday magic circle, he clenched his fists.

So it's begun…

His mother, the duchess, urged them onward.

"Hurry. Who knows what dangers still await?"

Her love for her husband had died long ago, ever since he took in that damned mistress. Whatever happened to him now—dying with his lover or not—was none of her concern.

Pavel didn't feel much guilt toward his father either. The situation had gone far beyond something that could be excused.

What weighed on him was the uncertainty of how to rebuild the family from this wreckage.

The duke's two young daughters clung to their mother's dress, trembling. Fear—new and suffocating—gnawed at their small hearts. The duchess embraced them tightly and sobbed.

"Why… why did he do something so foolish?"

Pavel gently patted her back.

"Please be strong, Mother. Let's take refuge with your family. We can think about the future later."

The duchess lifted her tear-streaked face to look at her son.

Her son—so talented and capable—and yet her husband had favored an illegitimate child over him. It was madness.

"My father? But... with the family in ruins, would they even take us in?"

The world of nobles was cold and unforgiving. The duchess spoke with bitter honesty.

"Because your father neglected me all these years, our ties with my family have weakened. Severely."

Pavel nodded. He already knew.

"It doesn't matter. Father sacrificed himself and took the rest of the traitorous nobles down with him. That alone earns us some credit. I believe our safety will be guaranteed."

A flicker of color returned to the duchess's face. She had expected her husband to take some sort of final action—but not this.

"…So he did something a father should've done. At least in the end."

Pavel sighed. Even now, she couldn't let go of her resentment.

But then, maybe I can't either…

"We can negotiate. Offer part of the family's remaining wealth in exchange for shelter. Grandfather may agree."

But even as he said it, both he and his mother knew the truth.

She shook her head slowly.

"No… I know my father. He doesn't lift a finger unless there's something to gain. Even if we gave him treasure, he might still cast us aside—or worse."