In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

The young, inexperienced recruits couldn't hide their nervousness, while Michael's seasoned knights exuded calm confidence. Many of them had initially joined to claim Marcus's bloodline, only to find themselves under Michael's command. Though they had entered reluctantly, the accolades they earned in battle made them active participants.

With their participation, there was no shortage of aerial mounts for this mission.

Mounting Marcus, Michael led the way. The recruits followed, each boarding their assigned mounts.

As the creatures' wings unfurled and began to beat, Michael gave the command.

"Let's go, Marcus!"

Marcus took to the sky with a powerful leap, and the other mounts followed in formation.

Louis felt the ground recede beneath him and gripped the reins tightly. The chimera lent to him by his father offered words of reassurance.

[Don't be too nervous. You'll be fine.]

The first mission of the elite task force, composed entirely of handpicked soldiers, was underway.

Hidden in the cover of night, Michael and the task force soared undetected, thanks to the concealment magic cast by Miaomiao. Even if someone on the ground looked up, they would see nothing but shadows darker than usual.

Below, the Pamir Empire's forces had set up camp on the plains. The air was filled with the sounds of raucous laughter, singing, and the clinking of glasses as the soldiers feasted on meat and drank freely.

The knights, observing the lively scene from above, felt their nerves tighten. Stay tuned for updates on My Virtual Library Empire

Michael, silent among the darkened skies, studied the enemy camp intently. Though the details were obscured by the night, the size and layout of the encampment indicated that this was no ordinary force.

From the number of horses alone, it was clear that over half of the 2,000-strong unit were warriors, a testament to their strength.

His sharp gaze swept across the enemy lines, and with calculated calm, he issued his next command.

Michael stood tall, addressing the special task force assembled before him. His voice carried authority, cutting through the tension in the air.

"Marcus, the First Battalion, and I will lead the initial assault. The Second and Third Battalions will encircle the area, ensuring no one escapes. We can't afford to let a single one of them survive. Only then can we continue these ambushes without raising their alarm. Understood?"

The knights listened intently, determination flashing in their eyes.

As the night veiled their movements, the ambush began. With a smaller force against a larger enemy, their attack needed to be swift and overwhelming.

Marcus unleashed a torrent of flames upon the enemy camp, lighting up the night sky with a crimson glow. The fire spread rapidly, consuming the tents and supplies.

Inside one of the burning tents, Ihar, the Black Hawk Tribe's chieftain, was jolted awake by the frantic voice of one of his trusted warriors.

"Chieftain! Wake up! A dragon is attacking the camp from the skies!"

Still groggy from sleep, Ihar pushed aside his blanket and stepped outside. The sight that greeted him was chaos: flames engulfing the camp, soldiers running in panic, and horses whinnying in terror.

Wasting no time, Ihar grabbed his axe and barked orders at a young soldier frozen in place.

"Pull yourself together! Find your unit and regroup! Abandon the burning tents and focus on escaping. We'll reorganize later!"

While it pained him to leave their supplies behind, Ihar's quick decision reflected his leadership. With his bodyguards, he began navigating through the flames to escape.

Unfortunately, he faced an opponent far superior.

From above, Michael spotted the fleeing group and drew his enchanted bow. He relished the weapon's efficiency, needing no arrows as each shot materialized on command.

Taking a deep breath, he loosed an arrow. The sharp twang of the bowstring was followed by a piercing sound as the arrow struck true.

Ihar looked down, confused. A glowing arrow was embedded in his chest. It disintegrated into light moments later, but the wound remained. Before he could process what had happened, he collapsed.

Seeing their chieftain fall, his warriors panicked. Chaos spread as they were picked off one by one by Michael's relentless arrows.

The knights cheered at the sight of Michael's precision.

"Truly a divine marksman!"

"Let's not lag behind! Kill any who try to escape!"

The knights, mounted on their beasts, formed a perimeter around the camp. Warriors who attempted to escape the flames met their end at the hands of the knights.

Michael, ever cautious, reminded them not to be reckless.

"Don't rush into the flames to claim glory! Target only those emerging from the fire."

Following his orders, the knights avoided unnecessary risks, focusing on eliminating fleeing enemies.

With Ihar and his bodyguards neutralized, Michael ascended on Marcus's back to survey the battlefield. Below, the scene was a hellscape of fire and death.

He tasked Miaomiao with further reconnaissance.

"Miaomiao, scout the perimeter. Ensure no one escapes to warn other tribes."

[Understood,] she replied succinctly, leaping off Michael's shoulder and taking flight.

Those who managed to slip past the knights were soon hunted down by Miao and the gargoyles.

Michael himself continued his deadly vigil from above, loosing arrows with unerring accuracy. The silent, unseen projectiles sowed confusion and terror among the fleeing warriors.

The Pamir soldiers, unable to see their attackers, succumbed to panic. They tripped over one another, desperate to escape the invisible hunter. In the shadow of death, they were reduced to prey.

"Excellent work, everyone," Michael murmured to himself, his voice calm yet resolute.

He took aim at a small group attempting to break through the encirclement, his expression unwavering. Methodically, he shattered their hopes of survival with each precise shot.

As the battle wore on, the enemy's desperation grew. Warriors sprinted blindly through the flames or sought refuge in the nearby woods. Their survival instincts varied, but the outcome was always the same: death.

The knights, following Michael's instructions, left no stragglers alive.

When dawn finally broke, the once-fiery battlefield was reduced to smoldering ruins. The air was thick with the stench of smoke and blood.

Michael dismounted from Marcus and walked through the charred remains of the enemy camp. The aftermath was one of absolute destruction—proof of the night's ferocity.

"Roll call," he commanded curtly.

The battalion leaders quickly assembled their men, calling out their reports.

"First Battalion! No casualties. Three wounded, none critically!"

The First Battalion leader's voice, though fatigued, carried satisfaction.

"Second Battalion! No casualties or injuries!"

The announcement drew a collective sigh of relief and a flicker of hope.

"Third Battalion! Same here—no casualties, two lightly injured!"

As the final report was delivered, a wave of jubilant cheers erupted among the knights.

They clapped each other on the shoulders, celebrating their success. Against a force nearly seven times their size, they had achieved the impossible: the enemy was annihilated, and their own suffered no losses.

The camaraderie born from their grueling training now solidified in victory. Their hearts swelled with pride and relief.

Above all, their admiration for Michael reached new heights.

They looked to him with reverence, seeing in him not just a commander but a hero. His tactical brilliance, unwavering leadership, and unmatched combat skills left no doubt in their minds.

A new legend had been born.