In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities-Chapter 238 The Second Expedition

Vitto, a towering figure clad in gleaming ceremonial armor, knelt before the pontiff.

"Your Holiness," he said, his voice deep and unwavering, "I await your command."

Allegro III gestured for him to rise.

"Commander, the Pamir Emperor has been declared a heretic. You and your knights shall lead the expedition to deliver divine justice."

Vitto's face remained stoic, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of surprise.

"It will be done, Your Holiness. Do you have any specific instructions?"

The pontiff leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"You are to retrieve any artifacts or texts related to the emperor's longevity. Spare no effort. Bring them to me, and ensure they remain intact. This mission is as much about enlightenment as it is about justice."

Vitto nodded solemnly.

"As you command."

Allegro III's lips curled into a smile.

"Good. Select your most loyal knights. Additionally, the expedition will include several scholars and healers. This must appear as a divine mission of investigation, not a conquest."

As Vitto departed to assemble his forces, the cardinals began their own preparations. Each sought to place their loyalists within the ranks of the expedition, ensuring their interests were protected.

Jacobo, in particular, worked tirelessly through the night. His network of spies and informants buzzed with activity as he sought to uncover every detail about the emperor's rumored methods.

"Immortality," he muttered to himself, his eyes glinting with ambition. "If the emperor can achieve it, why not me?"

He penned secret letters to his allies within the empire, seeking any advantage he could gain.

Meanwhile, Allegro III stood on the balcony of his chambers, gazing out at the sprawling city of Celestia. The moonlight bathed the golden spires and bustling streets below.

"Immortality," he whispered, the word a prayer and a curse. "It shall be mine."

As the church prepared to launch its holy expedition, the winds of change stirred across the continent. The Pamir Empire, already reeling from internal strife and external threats, now faced the looming specter of divine judgment.

But Allegro III and his cardinals failed to grasp one crucial truth: the emperor they sought to topple would not go down without a fight. And the secrets they coveted might unleash forces far beyond their control.

Baron Aaron patted Behemoth's mane, a grin spreading across his face.

"Of course, of course. Do you think I'd break my word at this age?"

Behemoth's narrowed eyes seemed to approve of Aaron's sincerity, his massive frame visibly relaxing. Together, they patrolled the fortress, ensuring no survivors remained to sound the alarm.

By tomorrow, they would reach the capital city of Pamir Empire, Pamillian. The news of their incursion must not spread ahead of them.

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The Crassus, gleaming in its white magnificence, floated gracefully across the night sky, like a colossal ghost carving through the heavens.

Its sleek, pearl-like body shimmered, an awe-inspiring combination of beauty and menace. The massive cannons and reinforced armor along its sides were clear indicators that the Crassus was far more than a mere airship.

Accompanying the Crassus were hundreds of wyverns and beasts of varying shapes and sizes, their wings slicing through the air in disciplined harmony. These creatures were no ordinary mounts—they were feral, lethal war machines.

The beasts were a mix of those brought by the legendary warriors, members of Michael's special forces, and others who had submitted to Marcus and Miaomiao while crossing the Argo Mountains. Together, they surrounded the airship like a moving fortress.

The Crassus, guarded by its legion of beasts, cut an imposing figure, dominating the skies with an almost divine presence.

Inside the airship, Michael and his companions alternated shifts, scanning the ground below through the ship's telescopes. Every movement of the enemy was meticulously observed, allowing them to bypass certain fortresses and selectively strike those that posed a threat.

Each assault was swift and decisive. A single warrior paired with a beast led the ambushes, and their precision made victory seem almost effortless.

Overhead, the Crassus moved deliberately, providing support and overseeing the unfolding battles, its grandeur visible even from miles away.

By the time Aaron and Behemoth rejoined the main group, five days had passed.

The expedition had penetrated deep into the heart of the Pamir Empire without alerting the enemy to their advance.

Most of the Empire's forces had been deployed to the frontlines, leaving the defenses of Pamillian—the imperial capital—thin and vulnerable.

Prince Oswald of the Pamir Empire stood beside Michael on the bridge of the Crassus, looking down at the terrain below. Though outwardly calm, his heart churned with guilt and unease.

"Was this the right thing to do?" he wondered for the thousandth time.

As they drew closer to Pamillian, the weight of his betrayal bore down on him. The capital, the seat of his father's empire, loomed in the distance, but Oswald's mind was consumed by the shadows of his choices.

Forcing himself to speak, he turned to Michael.

"We'll soon arrive at Pamillian. I've already arranged for the city's guards to stand down. The captain of the city's defenses, Chancellor Mufasa, has agreed to cooperate."

Michael regarded Oswald with a cold, unreadable expression.

Feeling a shiver run down his spine under Michael's gaze, Oswald nervously continued.

"T-That is, Mufasa has grown deeply dissatisfied with my father's actions. He sees the Emperor's tyranny for what it is and wishes to support my ascension to the throne."

Reaching into his robes, Oswald produced a sealed letter.

"This is his reply. He promises his full support."

Michael took the letter, his face betraying no emotion. As he read the contents, a faint smirk curled his lips.

Chancellor Mufasa's letter expressed outrage at the Emperor's misdeeds and a solemn vow to aid Oswald in claiming the throne. But Michael could see through the Chancellor's true intent: to minimize the Empire's losses by allowing a swift and bloodless transfer of power.

Michael nodded after a moment, handing the letter back to Oswald.

"Very well. This works to our advantage. A bloodless entry into Pamillian spares us unnecessary losses."