The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 1239

Chapter 1239: Far From Dormant

Meanwhile, just as one particular group managed to settle several important matters that night, somewhere far darker and considerably more remote, things weren’t nearly as peaceful.

"Wrap faster! Faster! Hurry up, you useless shits!"

A loud, raspy voice tore through the damp, reeking darkness of what looked to be an abandoned mining tunnel.

The place had clearly stopped being used for its original purpose a long time ago.

Now, beneath rows of flickering lights that barely managed to illuminate the cavernous space, countless people sat hunched over makeshift workstations, their exhausted faces slick with sweat as their trembling hands worked as quickly as they possibly could.

The air itself felt suffocating.

Dust clung to practically everything, mixing with an almost nauseatingly sweet yet strangely acrid scent coming from the piles of raw materials scattered across the tables. Those materials were being ground, packed, and pressed into crude stick-like cylinders before being hastily bundled together by workers who looked as though they’d been sitting there for far too long.

"If you don’t reach today’s quota, not a single one of you gets to eat tomorrow!"

CRACK!

A heavy leather whip slammed against the ground.

The sharp sound tore through the entire tunnel so violently that nearly everyone flinched at once, yet none of them dared stop working for more than a fraction of a second.

It wasn’t as though the workers were unaffected by whatever they were being forced to handle either. Even through sheer endurance, several were visibly struggling, their breathing growing heavier as dizziness and nausea gradually set in with every passing minute. The only ones who seemed perfectly comfortable were their tormentors, safely protected behind specialized gear that theoretically spared them from the very same effects everyone else was simply expected to endure.

Unfortunately, one particularly young worker was already reaching his limit.

Barely managing to cling to consciousness as every inhale left him increasingly lightheaded, the sudden noise startled him badly enough that his already sweat-slicked fingers finally slipped.

"!"

Several of the tightly wrapped sticks he’d been carefully bundling tumbled from his hands and scattered across the filthy ground.

The boy immediately went pale.

"Are you trying to die?!"

Heavy footsteps thundered toward him.

The supervisor stormed across the makeshift production area, his face twisting with rage as he stopped right in front of the trembling worker.

"If you keep making mistakes like that, how the hell do you expect us to finish everything before the Astral Cup?!"

"Ah! N-no, Master..."

"You don’t even have to prepare the burners anymore! We’ve already made things far easier for you, and yet you’re still going to act this ungrateful?!"

The young worker didn’t even attempt to defend himself.

He immediately dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead against the cold, dirt-covered ground as his entire body trembled.

"I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’ll do better! I’ll work faster, I-I promise!"

The supervisor stared down at him for several seconds before letting out a harsh, humorless laugh.

Then he raised the whip again.

CRACK!

It struck the ground right beside the worker’s head.

The young man recoiled violently, but the supervisor had already turned toward everyone else.

Several workers had made the mistake of looking over.

"What are you all staring at?!" he roared, his voice echoing throughout the abandoned tunnels. "Get back to work!"

That was all it took.

Every head immediately lowered.

Hands that were already shaking began moving even faster as the production line resumed its frantic pace, filling the tunnels once again with the sounds of grinding, wrapping, and hurried movement.

And amidst all that fear and exhaustion, nobody dared question why they suddenly needed to produce so much more before the Astral Cup.

__

But see, those were never details meant for people like them to know.

Because in the mind of a certain someone, tools only needed to know enough to remain useful.

They didn’t need to understand what they were making, where all of it would eventually go, or what would happen once everything had been put into place. All they needed to do was follow instructions and survive long enough to usher in the new world that was waiting for everyone else.

Like that, even their otherwise pitiful lives would at least amount to something.

Unlike those twins.

Those two had been given far more opportunities than most people could ever dream of receiving, yet somehow, they’d still managed to fail.

Far away from those abandoned mining tunnels, the still surface of a dark pool suddenly rippled.

Then a hand emerged from the water.

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