In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Michael turned, spotting the advancing beasts. Assessing the situation, he issued an order to Marcus.

"Marcus, climb above the clouds. Let's use the strategy we practiced. Remember?"

Excitement coursed through Marcus as he straightened his body, his pulse thrumming beneath Michael's grip on the reins. With his wings fully spread, Marcus soared into the sky, his enormous frame cutting through the wind. Michael couldn't help but smile at the familiar rush of air against his face.

It was a sensation he had deeply missed.

As Marcus ascended through the clouds, the gargoyles sprang into action. They quickly filled the space Marcus vacated, retrieving bombs from the pouches around their necks. Lighting the fuses with care, they hurled the explosives at the approaching beasts before retreating to safety.

Unlike the autonomous gargoyles, the imperial beasts carried riders, who mistakenly swung their swords at the incoming bombs. It was a grave error.

The flaming bombs exploded upon contact, unleashing a fiery blast that scattered shockwaves through the air. The beasts caught in the explosion roared in agony, their bodies twisting as they desperately tried to extinguish the flames—but it was useless. One by one, the burning creatures plummeted to the ground.

From their vantage point above the clouds, Marcus and Michael surveyed the battlefield. Marcus's eyes gleamed as he observed the carnage below: the burning carcasses of beasts, the panicked retreat of imperial soldiers, and the chaos engulfing their ranks.

[Wow~!] Marcus roared in exhilaration, unable to contain his excitement. His usual gentle demeanor was replaced by an unrelenting ferocity as he reveled in the battle. Even the membranes of his face flared open with excitement.

To keep him grounded, Michael gently patted Marcus's neck. "Hold on, Marcus. You'll get your chance to unleash everything soon. Just wait a little longer."

Michael placed a hand on his ancient god's earring, an artifact he had acquired from the underground temple. It emitted a faint glow, responding to his touch. The matching earring was held by his father, Viscount Dominic.

"Father, lead the knights and cavalry to strike the imperial forces. I'll join you shortly," Michael instructed.

Hearing his son's voice through the artifact, Dominic inhaled deeply. With a firm gesture, he rallied the waiting cavalry.

"Now is our chance! The enemy is in disarray! Soldiers, seize this moment and break through their lines!"

At his signal, Sir Ronald led the family's cavalry into the fray. Behind them, the infantry of the First Corps followed, gripping their weapons tightly as they charged.

The imperial forces were swept away by the storm like advance.

Watching the battlefield from above, Michael gave Marcus a new command.@@novelbin@@

"Get ready, Marcus. Let's tear through them," Michael commanded.

Marcus responded with a powerful flap of his wings, breaking through the clouds and diving sharply toward the battlefield. His descent was like a crimson bolt of lightning striking the earth. The gargoyles, having eliminated the griffins and wyverns, followed closely behind. Miaomiao, who had been destroying siege ballistae, spread her wings and soared into the sky.

[Michael! All the ballistae are destroyed. What should I do now?]

Michael laughed heartily. "Now, everyone, assist the soldiers at the struggling points. Use your judgment for attacks. Be swift but cautious. Understood?"

With cheers of acknowledgment, they dispersed across the battlefield.

The creatures of war, inherently aggressive, charged into the fray. The gargoyles and Miaomiao were no exception.

A formidable Hydra, a fourth tier beast with nine venomous heads dripping greenish poison, lunged at Miaomiao. Having identified her as the culprit behind the destruction of their ballistae, the Hydra sought vengeance.

Unfazed, Miaomiao deftly dodged the attack and extended her claws.

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[How dare you! You insolent snake!]

The Hydra hesitated, its nine heads recoiling instinctively. But Miaomiao's speed outmatched their reaction. With a single, lethal swipe of her claws, all nine heads were severed simultaneously.

The Hydra's vaunted regeneration ability was useless without at least one head intact. Its decapitated body writhed and convulsed, but the battle was already over.

Nearby soldiers scattered to avoid the splattering venom, casting wary, reverent gazes at Miaomiao. She casually flicked the blood off her claws before lunging at the soldiers, beginning a one sided slaughter.

Unlike other beasts, which instinctively sought opponents of similar strength, Miaomiao fought cunningly. She targeted knights first, systematically eliminating as many soldiers as possible. Her calculated rampage left a trail of devastation across the battlefield.

Her usual playful demeanor was nowhere to be found; she fought with cold precision, prioritizing Michael's mission to kill as many enemies as possible. War demanded death—better the enemy than their own forces.

Meanwhile, the gargoyles spread out to aid endangered allies. One spotted Sir Lancaster, isolated and dismounted from his horse. A massive tribal warrior was bearing down on him with relentless attacks.

Lancaster struggled to block the warrior's axe but was losing ground due to his injured leg. Seeing this, the gargoyle swooped in to help.

The warrior, too focused on his assault, failed to notice the gargoyle's approach. In a flash, the gargoyle's claws closed around the warrior's head.

"Arrgh!" The startled warrior screamed, dropping his axe as he was dragged into the sky. Moments later, his long scream ended with a sickening thud as his lifeless body crashed to the ground.

Sir Lancaster, still panting from exertion, watched his attacker reduced to a bloody pulp and exhaled in relief. His heart pounded in his chest as the gargoyle returned to carefully carry him to safety.

"Thank you… Truly, thank you," Lancaster said.

The gargoyle turned its head, revealing a sharp toothed grin. [Think nothing of it.]

Meanwhile, Michael dominated the battlefield, loosing arrow after arrow with lethal precision. Each shot claimed an important target, striking fear into the enemy's ranks.

Marcus rampaged across the battlefield, unleashing flames and swinging his massive tail with destructive force. Unlike Michael's calculated strikes, Marcus's attacks were indiscriminate, mowing down entire groups of soldiers. The sheer ferocity of his assault sent the Pamir soldiers fleeing in terror.