The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 1000

Chapter 1000: Curiosity in the Crossfire

"Hey... is this—"

Instructor Falco leaned forward in his seat, shoulders hunched as he practically whispered to Instructor Moore beside him, his eyes never quite leaving the arena.

But he didn’t get to finish.

"Later," Moore said flatly. "Right now, it would be in your best interests to shut up."

It was a brutal answer for someone who was trying to ask nicely.

But Moore wasn’t kidding around.

Because at this point, it was painfully obvious that when not focused on the ongoing match, the other spectators and maybe half the spare cameras were likely trained on them.

Waiting.

Watching.

Trying to catch even the slightest change in the instructors’ expressions.

After all, the people of the Empire—no, the people of the universe wanted to know a few things like...

Was this normal?

What kind of classes did they even take to reach this point? How long did they take them?

Which instructors trained the students to end up like this?

Have the cadets always been like this in class?

And if so, people wanted to know what the teachers felt as they were instructing such students.

But in all those questions, what exactly did they mean by "this"?

Well, the general word would be monstrous.

But it wouldn’t feel quite right when it carried a negative connotation for something that was just so... stressfully magnificent.

Clearly, this was all confusing.

Because just as Instructor Falco sniffled quietly while pretending to have his shit together, another Federation cadet had just been blocked from rescuing a teammate by the normally docile Kyle Nox.

And while that alone would have been impressive, someone still needed to explain how the cadet had managed to counter an assault from an opponent who had clearly used thrusters to propel himself like a rocket.

At this point, the closest thing to normality would have been the Orcs.

They were clearly in charge of assaulting past enemy lines, grabbing unsuspecting cybernetic legs like they were nothing.

But at the very least, that part was expected.

That was something they had always been able to do with the level of strength they’ve always had.

If anything, the only odd thing that caught a certain infantry division instructor’s attention was the temperament of a certain Orcish Princess.

Because, since when had she developed that kind of self-control?

Their last exam had been a whirlwind he wanted to forget, and yet now...

For some reason, it was as if she was specifically avoiding rushing toward the flag.

Maybe she wasn’t feeling too well? Or was the pressure from having her father watch affecting her?

Now, Ada would have found that assumption about her master laughable, as it would have been more believable to think that the Princess was simply selecting the best angles to show to her Bunbun. But even that wouldn’t be quite right.

Thankfully, Instructor Moore also thought differently from the Infantry instructor.

As he stared at the students he thought he was rather familiar with, his gaze sharpened slightly.

There may have only been nine of them.

Princess Tharkira and cadet Marn on offense.

Cadet Montclair, Taylor, and Emory on defense.

Cadet Nox holding down the jail.

And finally, Cadet Kyros, Mylor, and Belgrave guarding the flag.

And yet, despite their smaller numbers, the lack of significant progress didn’t seem to be due to their inability to keep up with the opponent.

On the contrary, it felt like they could keep up with just the freshman combat division’s top student, Xavier Montclair, at the forefront. Even after annoying the Federation’s heir enough to make him use predictive calculations, Xavier still looked completely in control.

So if not for that, what exactly were these kids waiting for?

Instructor Moore—one of the few who had the ability to function amidst the unexpected battle before them—frowned slightly as he tried to piece it together, his thoughts running quickly as he shifted his gaze toward the far end of the arena.

Toward the flag defenders.

He looked.

Then looked again.

And this time, he definitely stared.

Oh.

How could he ever forget that face?

Eureka.

It seemed that their most bizarre student had found something he really, really liked.

__

Mouth slightly parted, focus zeroed in, and eyes reflecting everything he was staring at, Luca Soren Kyros—guild leader and current goalkeeper of DG—was in paradise.

He didn’t blink. He didn’t shift. He didn’t even realize how tightly his fingers had curled against the railing.

Because right now, everything in front of him was too good.

"D-29," he called quietly in his mind, voice quick and breathless. "Please tag that one as Capturer A."

"Marked, Host."

"No, wait. That one rotated out. The new one stepping in is B. The one flanking is C. Please keep track of their transitions."

His gaze shifted sharply.

"Capturer A... oh!"

Luca’s eyes lit up as he leaned forward, practically pressing against an invisible railing he had set for himself as a goalkeeper.

"D-29, did you see that?! His legs—his legs compressed before he moved!"

"Confirmed, Host. I will take note of it!"

"That’s not muscle!" Luca whispered, half-gasping. "That’s load-bearing augmentation! And it bounced back so fast! That means there are dampeners—no, wait—layered dampeners with actuator boosters!"

He didn’t even pause.

"Wait, wait, wait—Capturer B!"

His head tilted slightly, eyes following every tiny shift.

"His arms! Look at his arms! That rotation is way too smooth!" Luca said, almost bouncing in place. "I wonder what kind of joint they used for that degree of movement! That has to be upgraded joints with assisted torque—no drag, no delay, just—just—"

He made a small motion with his hand.

"—fascinating!"

D-29 responded, "Movement efficiency exceeds expected parameters."

Oh, well.

Anything for him.

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