In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Alfred and Michael flew on Marcus toward the familiar graveyard—a treasure trove, as far as Michael was concerned. Alfred's earlier investigations into the graves of the Draigo mountain range had been based on the legend that mandrakes grew by feeding on the blood of executed individuals.

"Thank you so much, Grandfather. Thanks to you, I'll be able to recruit many talented individuals," Michael said gratefully.

"Helping my grandson is only natural," Alfred replied, smiling warmly at him.

"Have you decided which condemned soul you'll revive today?" Alfred asked.

Michael beamed as he revealed his plan.

"Yes. Today, I'll revive Rabouin, a scholar from the Holy Kingdom. He was executed as a heretic, but his expertise could be invaluable to the territory."

Michael thought of Rabouin, the man who had introduced the concept of chemistry to the world. He imagined Rabouin developing gunpowder, with Marcus and flying beasts carrying out aerial bombardments. Just the thought made Michael smile.

"After all, isn't it said that highly advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic?" Michael mused. Since Rabouin's execution, the world had seen almost no progress in chemistry. Introducing gunpowder as a new "magic" would likely arouse no suspicion.

"Rabouin, eh? He lived around 700 years ago," Alfred said thoughtfully. "We should look for graves built in the style of that era." Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire

"Yes," Michael agreed. "Rabouin had many disciples, so even if he was executed, they would've ensured he received a proper burial."

Michael pondered further before adding,

"The burial style of that period involved carving symbols representing the deceased. As a scholar, Rabouin's grave should be marked with a book."

Alfred looked at his grandson with pride.

"You've remembered what I taught you."

"Of course," Michael said, scratching his head sheepishly. "I'll eventually inherit your role as an executioner, after all."

"Marcus, we'll soon reach the mandrake habitat from before. Land there," Michael instructed.

[This is the third time already. I know where it is,] Marcus grumbled, swishing his spiked tail irritably.

Michael patted Marcus's wing in a soothing gesture.

"I know, I know. Our Marcus is a master navigator. You've been working hard helping me every night, haven't you? Just hang in there a little longer. I'll reward you with a pearl after today's task."

Rejuvenated by the promise, Marcus perked up and flapped his wings with renewed vigor.

[We've arrived. The ground here feels sticky. It's unpleasant.]

"When we return, I'll have the servants bathe you thoroughly. A soak in the lake will make you feel better," Michael assured.

[Make sure they soap me properly, too.]

Given Marcus's size, even using diluted soap would require at least two bars. Michael's lips twitched at the thought of the expense but quickly relaxed. Such trivial costs no longer concerned him.

"Of course, bathing in your full form will feel far better," Michael replied.

[Obviously. It's a hundred times better,] Marcus said.

"Alright, Marcus. Wait here for now," Michael instructed.

[Finish quickly. The ground is too sticky for me to lie down,] Marcus complained.

After giving Marcus a reassuring pat, Michael gathered the necessary tools with Alfred. Excavating a 700-year-old sarcophagus would require proper equipment.

"Hmm… we found Arnan over there, so Rabouin's grave should be further downhill," Michael said, pointing.

"That's likely, based on chronology, though we can't be certain," Alfred replied.

"True. There's no guarantee the graves were arranged in order. I'll search uphill; could you check below?" Michael suggested.

Dividing their efforts, the two began their search for Rabouin's tomb.

After some time, Alfred called out to Michael.

"Here it is! Rabouin de Balassier. I've found it."

Michael ran to Alfred's location, his face alight with excitement. The white marble gravestone, carved in the shape of a book, bore Rabouin's name. There was no doubt—it was his grave.

Wielding pickaxes and shovels, they began breaking through the gravestone. Though they could have used magic to expedite the process, it would have been disrespectful to the deceased—a strict principle of executioners, especially in the case of someone unjustly executed like Rabouin.

Eventually, the sarcophagus beneath the stone was exposed. Using a pickaxe as a lever, they lifted the heavy lid.

Rabouin's body had been preserved in the sealed sarcophagus, mummified but intact. Unlike Arnan, Rabouin's neck was still attached to his body, indicating greater care had been taken with his burial.

Nodding in approval, Michael placed his hand on the corpse and chanted,

"Resurrectionis electio!"

As if time reversed, Rabouin's body began to restore itself. Flesh regenerated, and his once-deformed form straightened. Soon, the figure of a scholar wearing a white wig emerged.

Rabouin opened his eyes and met Michael's gaze.

"Good heavens, I'm alive again! What on earth is happening?"

After a moment of shock, Rabouin reacted like the other revived souls.

"My lord, was it you who awakened me? Thank you! There's so much research I still wish to conduct. I pledge my loyalty to you, my noble master."

Rabouin sprang to his feet and knelt before Michael.

Perfect, Michael thought, suppressing a grin. I've gained a new alchemist—or rather, a devoted gunpowder manufacturer.

Exhausted, Michael and Alfred returned to the new territory just before dawn. After bidding farewell to Alfred and entrusting Rabouin to Arnan, Michael barely managed to reach his temporary quarters before collapsing into bed.

Though he could replenish his energy with absorbed mana, the acts of resurrection and power absorption still drained his physical strength.

It felt like only moments had passed before his steward, Julian, shook him awake.

"My lord, please rise. The masters and apprentices have already begun their tasks," Julian informed him.

Still groggy, Michael forced himself up. Julian, ever-efficient, handed him freshly baked bread and a cup of coffee.

"Thank you, Julian. How are things progressing?" Michael asked, sipping his coffee.

"There's been some friction, but overall, the work is proceeding smoothly," Julian replied, pouring more coffee with practiced ease.@@novelbin@@

"The Geomancy and Pyromancy schools are the most vocal. They're having difficulty learning brick-making techniques from the artisans."

Michael dabbed his mouth with a napkin and stood.

"Let's take a look. Lead the way."