In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities-Chapter 247 Plundering the Palace

On any other day, one might have marveled at the library's beauty. But today, there was no time for admiration. The grandeur of the frescoes, the exquisite marble sculptures, and the jewel-encrusted ornaments that adorned every corner failed to capture anyone's attention.

Bookshelves stretched from the floor to the ceiling, with tall ladders fixed to allow access to the highest shelves. Each book housed here was either bought for an extravagant price or looted from elsewhere. This space, which had always been a haven for taking from others, had now become the target of pillage.

Members of the expedition tore through the library like ravenous beasts. The emperor's bedroom, study, and reception hall had already been stripped clean. Now, they clambered up ladders and overturned shelves with abandon, sending clouds of dust billowing into the air.

The librarians who managed this sanctuary stood by in stunned silence, their faces pale. One, the head librarian, couldn't bear the desecration any longer and collapsed to the floor with a faint groan. For someone who had loved and cherished books all her life, the sight of this rampage was too much to endure.

Yet none of the looters paid her any mind. They scrambled to outpace one another, tearing through the shelves with relentless fervor. The sounds of rustling parchment and falling bookshelves echoed through the library. The floor was littered with discarded administrative records and meeting logs. What use did these invaders have for Pamir Empire's bureaucratic documents?

They weren't just after forbidden secrets or ancient legacies. Any book of even marginal value was quickly stuffed into someone's satchel. The expedition soldiers were so engrossed in their plunder that they didn't even react to the thunderous explosions reverberating outside.

Elsewhere in the palace, Michael was leisurely exploring, guided by Oswald. Famillian Palace, known for its beauty and exclusivity, was a place even foreign dignitaries rarely had the privilege to enter. Its grandeur was overwhelming.

Majestic marble walls and intricately carved ceilings stood as testaments to its artistic craftsmanship. The walls glittered with gold and jewels, so abundant that the space seemed to glow without the need for magical candelabras. Paintings by renowned artists lined the halls, each a masterpiece in its own right.

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Michael, along with Miaomiao and Marcus, couldn't conceal their greed as they surveyed the treasures around them. They had already instructed the attendants trailing them to pack up anything that caught their eye. There was no point wasting space in their storage rings on mere trinkets, after all.

Marcus took it a step further, rubbing himself against various surfaces as though marking his territory like an overzealous dog. He gazed around with a look of utter delight, as though he wished he could take the entire palace with him. Using his sharp claws, he began prying off the gold leaf adorning the walls.

Michael leaned in and whispered to him, "Marcus, that's just gilded plating. Where we're headed, the real treasures await. Don't waste your energy here—focus on the treasure vault. Do you think they'd leave anything truly valuable out in the open?"

The logic was undeniable. Marcus sheepishly retracted his claws and pretended to have been disinterested all along.

[I knew that. I was just checking. But still… look at how shiny it is!] he muttered defensively.

Miaomiao was even more thorough. Refusing to trust the attendants Oswald had provided, she employed her own servants to sift through the treasures with precision, selecting only the finest and most valuable items. It was a moment that highlighted the meticulous instincts her Sphinx lineage was known for.

[No slacking! Focus on the valuables. Not that junk—start with that Berkus painting over there. Handle it with care, as if it were a newborn. Wrap it properly before placing it here. Yes, just like that,] she instructed, her usual playful tone replaced by an air of stern authority.

So engrossed was she in the task that her signature feline quips were momentarily absent.

Michael, of course, wasn't idle either. One's share of loot had to be personally secured. He turned to Oswald, who looked increasingly resigned.

"Well, I think we've seen enough of the palace. Why don't you lead us to the promised treasure vault now?"

With no other choice, Oswald guided Michael and his two magical beasts to the deepest recesses of the palace. When they reached the vault and opened its doors, the sight before them left them momentarily speechless.

Golden goblets that sparkled like the sun, crowns encrusted with precious jewels, stacks of gold bars, and glittering gemstones that seemed to mimic the stars filled the chamber.

Miaomiao, fearful that the mountain of gems might collapse, transformed into her feline form and perched atop the pile. Her emerald eyes reflected the treasures, shimmering as brilliantly as the jewels themselves. She picked up a pearl necklace from a glass case and called out to Michael.

[Look at this, Michael! This pearl is almost as big as my eyes, isn't it?]

Rolling blissfully among the treasures, she barked orders at her servants.

[Focus on the pieces I point out. Once we're done, you can each choose one item for yourselves.]

The servants nodded eagerly, their hands moving quickly. Any single jewel here was worth far more than their annual wages.

Marcus, meanwhile, had shrunk his form to better roll through the treasures, reveling in the opulence. Michael couldn't recall seeing Marcus this happy—it was as if the dragon had entered his personal nirvana.

The treasures amassed by the Pamir Empire over centuries seemed endless. Smiling contentedly, Michael glanced at his nearly filled storage ring. The loot here could replenish the treasury of an entire kingdom, and then some.

While the other members of the expedition busied themselves looting books, ancient knowledge, and secret techniques, Michael focused solely on gathering treasures. After all, the books and manuscripts could be transcribed later.

Crown Prince Oswald looked on with a pained expression as the pillars of the Famillian Palace seemed to crumble around him. These invaders hadn't come to save the Pamir Empire—they were here for their own gain. He understood that, as he might have acted the same way in their place. But understanding didn't make it easier to stomach.

The crown prince struggled to maintain composure as he watched the palace's treasures being carted away. His heart sank further knowing that, outside, the chaos of the battle between the otherworldly god and the paladins raged on. That god still wore his father's body like a macabre puppet.

How would he explain all of this to the nobles and citizens of the empire when the dust settled?

It was a cruel twist of fate. As the supposed heir to the empire, Oswald wasn't merely a helpless observer of this looting—he was guiding the plunderers himself. The bitter irony made his position all the more unbearable.

Grand Vizier Mufasa had chosen to express his silent protest by sitting with closed eyes at the palace's entrance, unwilling to engage with the looters. But there was little he—or anyone else—could do. Power ruled in situations like this, and the sword was far closer than the law.

Moreover, with Oswald himself assisting in the looting, no one dared voice dissent. Still, even Oswald had his limits. As the minutes dragged on, he grew increasingly agitated, pacing like a restless dog. Michael, noticing this, smirked and spoke.

"It seems you're uneasy, Your Highness. Having outsiders ransack the palace must weigh heavily on you."

The barbed remark made Oswald flinch. Quickly, he tried to explain himself.

"No, not at all. This was part of the agreement, after all. Without the aid of you and the others, bringing my father down would've been impossible."

His sincerity was evident. No matter how many forces he had rallied outside, they were nothing compared to his father, the emperor. Without the element of surprise and the overwhelming support of Michael and his allies, the coup would have been doomed to fail.

Oswald had no illusions about his own fate had things gone differently. Defeated in battle and taken prisoner, he would have been sent back to the palace only to become another tool in his father's quest for immortality.

Michael had been a lifeline, an unexpected rope descending from the heavens. Oswald had no choice but to cling to it with everything he had. His earnest defense elicited a chuckle from Michael, who turned his attention elsewhere.

It didn't matter. As long as their secret pact was safely secured in the form of a scroll, Oswald would have no choice but to remain aligned with him.

Still uneasy, Oswald cautiously asked, "But… Count Michael, don't you have any interest in what they're searching for? You seem content to watch from the sidelines."

Michael gestured toward his own growing hoard of treasures—masterpieces, jewels, and all manner of riches. "What more could I need? They can search for their miracles. As for me, I've taken what I came for."

Oswald shook his head. "Those things can be bought with enough money. True value lies in knowledge. That's why they're tearing the library apart, isn't it?"