In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Chapter 68 Capturing The Top Assassin From The Moon Shadows

No matter how many protectors surrounded him, a single skilled assassin could slip through. And as for magical defenses? Magic in this world was far from omnipotent. Protective and barrier spells had inherent weaknesses. Ultimately, a person had to rely on their own ingenuity.

"Grandfather, I'm heading out to hunt. Don't worry, I'm taking Miaomiao with me," Michael called out cheerfully before departing the estate.

The operation to use himself as bait was now in its third day. The group had been at the Lancaster estate for nearly a week, and although the mornings remained peaceful, Michael felt a dark shadow looming over his thoughts.

He was determined to bring the operation to a swift conclusion. So far, Dominic's fabricated injury had kept rumors at bay, but any further delays would invite unwelcome attention.

It would be best to end things today.

Familiar with the path by now, Michael and Miaomiao moved quietly through the underbrush toward the hunting grounds.

Spotting a grouse perched in the distance, Michael raised his bow, only to sense something unusual. The shadows around him began to ripple faintly.

As expected. This assassin is highly skilled—waiting for the perfect moment to strike while I'm distracted.

Remaining calm, Michael silently waited for Miaomiao's signal. With his sound-canceling artifact in place, he relied entirely on his companion to pinpoint the precise moment. Stay connected via My Virtual Library Empire

Finally, Miaomiao gave the signal, tugging sharply on a strand of Michael's hair.

"Now, Michael!"

At the predetermined cue, Michael swiftly pulled out a box from his pack.

This was Leonardo's masterpiece, now unveiled to the world. As he activated the intricate magical mechanism on the box, it began to extract the roots of the plant contained within.

A deafening screech filled the air.

The mandrake they had painstakingly unearthed in the Drago Mountains let out an ear-splitting wail.

Simultaneously, the shadows around them convulsed violently, and a figure emerged—a silver-haired man with dark skin.

The assassin tumbled to the ground, writhing in agony. Blood poured from every orifice on his face, and the look in his eyes was a mixture of confusion and pain. His dagger slipped from his grasp as he rolled helplessly across the dirt.

After several moments of thrashing, he lay still, reduced to shallow, ragged breaths.

"Grab him, Miaomiao!"

Miaomiao, her body now several times larger, pinned the man under her massive paw. The tension that had gripped Michael for days finally melted away.

He removed the sound-dampening artifact from his ears, allowing the cacophony of the world to rush back in. The rustling of leaves in the wind, birdsong, and the babble of a nearby stream crashed over him like a wave. The sudden onslaught of noise made him stumble backward briefly, but he regained his balance.

Once his heightened senses adjusted, Michael scanned his surroundings. No further threats emerged. Everything had gone according to plan.

As expected of a Moon Shadow, the top assassin had come alone—a fact Michael had anticipated when formulating his strategy.

Michael approached the subdued man, now crushed beneath Miaomiao's paw. The assassin, still gasping for air, wore an expression of resignation, the pain still etched across his features.

Crouching down, Michael grabbed the man's bloodied chin and lifted it, meeting his gaze.

"Gotcha, you fiend," Michael said, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.

Isper's memories of his childhood were faint, like wisps of smoke. He vaguely remembered his tribe living in one of the most barren deserts of the Pamir Plateau—a land infamous for its harshness.

One particular memory stood out: a young woman's voice, warning him not to wander outside during sandstorms lest the sand spirits take him. Perhaps she had been his mother. The warmth and comfort in that voice remained vivid even now.

His recollections ended with a blurred image of being snatched away on horseback and carried across the desert. He assumed he had been abducted by a visitor to his tribe and sold into slavery. After all, it wasn't uncommon for wanderers rescued by nomads to repay their saviors with betrayal.

Sometimes, he wondered about his roots and if he could ever return to them, but the thought was futile.

Training to become an assassin had been grueling. The Moon Shadows' hidden base was tucked away in a corner of the desert, its environment as unforgiving as its teachings.

The other trainees, all around his age, began training at dawn to avoid the midday heat. Yet even at dawn, the sun's wrath was merciless.

The first lessons were in patience and ruthlessness. Meals were sparse—dried fruit, grains, and a small ration of water tossed to them by the instructors. Isper had learned to cherish every drop of water, but eventually, like the others, he was forced to steal and fight for sustenance.

His resilience caught the attention of his master, who chose him to learn Shadow Concealment.

After surviving the brutal training and rising to become the Moon Shadows' top assassin, Isper's master had once told him:

"Isper, you're excellent, but you think too much. Assassins shouldn't overthink things."

That was the last piece of advice his master gave before disappearing. Left alone, Isper carried the weight of his thoughts—and his blade.

The splash of cold water on his face jolted him back to reality. What had happened?

Oh, right. He'd been ambushed while trying to strike his target. The memory of that horrific shriek was still fresh, as was the excruciating pain that had followed.

He probed his tongue against his molars, only to find that the poison capsule he had hidden there was gone. Suicide by poison was no longer an option. Biting his tongue wouldn't kill him either; even if it bled profusely, it wouldn't be enough to end his life.

He resigned himself to the inevitable torture. But to his surprise, no such torment came.

Instead, his gaze met that of a strikingly handsome man with long blond hair. Isper felt as if his soul had been pierced.

"Ah, hypnosis," he thought, recognizing the technique immediately.

"Stop!" he shouted, squeezing his eyes shut with all his willpower. "I'll tell you whatever you want. Just stop the hypnosis. I want to preserve my honor as the top assassin of the Moon Shadows."