The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 761

Chapter 761: Two Heirs, Two Paths

But what were simply passing thoughts seemed to have become reality when the gap between the two widened drastically.

It did not happen gradually. It was not subtle. It was as if the universe had woken up one morning and announced that Elior would now be launched into the sky while Eren would remain firmly planted in the dirt.

From the differences in schedules and lessons, there was suddenly an even harsher difference in responsibilities and opportunities.

Elior was suddenly everywhere.

He was receiving specialized tutoring from ancient scholars who rarely left their temples.

He was granted audiences with ministers who would usually pretend children did not exist.

He was being invited to observe diplomatic councils, ceremonial rites, inheritance rituals, and even military simulations that most heirs never saw until adulthood.

He was escorted by elite guards, praised by the court, adored by elders, and paraded around like the galaxy’s favorite shiny new treasure.

Meanwhile, Eren, despite being just as good, remained exactly where he had been relegated since that godforsaken day.

Behind.

He still attended his regular lessons. The same one that Elior would’ve attended if he didn’t suddenly end up with that ability. His meal schedule couldn’t be changed, and strangely enough, or maybe just as expected, even the palace staff who once fawned over the twins began having preferences.

If Elior was being forcibly shoved upward, then Eren was quietly being pushed downward.

And he could feel it.

He felt it in the way ministers looked at him with mild politeness instead of genuine interest.

He felt it in the stiff smiles from elders who used to pat his head.

He felt it in the way younger attendants whispered behind their hands, glancing between him and his brother the way one might compare a dull stone to a rare gem.

Eren did not even need to know their thoughts. Their eyes alone screamed everything.

They thought so little of him.

They pitied him.

They dismissed him.

They saw him as nothing but Elior’s shadow.

The shadow of the new golden child.

Ha. How dare they?

How dare they look at him like that? It was as if they had all forgotten that the only reason Elior was suddenly so wonderful was because of that stupid bloodline ability that had earned all of those praises.

Because without that ability, would there have been such foul changes?

Without that, all the idiots would stop acting like Elior was some kind of divine miracle, and everything would go back to normal.

Obviously, he had tried to be the sensible one and speak up about his situation. But after hearing that nonsense about it being natural, since even the current King, their own father, was not as legitimate as Elior, Eren decided there was no point in reasoning with anyone.

And he couldn’t care less if everyone denied it, because in the end, wasn’t he right?

That whoever remained to wield power would end up victorious?

Because when it came down to it, who really became the Elven Crown Prince?

Eren.

Of course, it would be him. It took a lot of work, but look how the tables have turned.

Sure, there had been a little snag when that blasted Elior escaped, but who would’ve thought that the universe was helping him just as always.

Someone disposable who happened to know a bit about the very people he now needed to deal with?

Wasn’t Elior just perfect for the role?

Yes. Absolutely.

With him, they could handle the ones who had ruined what could have been his perfect entrance. Fine, maybe it would not have been perfect, but with the right timing, it would still have been good enough.

Eren tapped impatiently at the edge of his desk as he glared at the elf standing in front of him. "Report about the damages. It has been days now. Surely, the news would have started spreading? It’s important to plan the perfect time to offer assistance."

Bram, his aide, shifted on his feet. His shoulders tensed a little too obviously. "Your Highness, the matter is... a bit unusual."

Eren’s eyes narrowed. "Unusual how?"

Bram swallowed. "Contrary to expectations, there have been no public reports of an attack. No public alerts, no warnings, only the standard minor disturbances. But nothing major has been raised otherwise."

"What?" Eren shot upright in disbelief. "Nothing? Are those buffoons truly that useless? They could not even get something like that right?"

Bram flinched and stared at the floor as if hoping it would swallow him whole. "It is... difficult to say, Your Highness. But the silence is truly strange. However, what was reassuring was how there has been a shift in the distribution of forces."

Eren leaned back, tapping his desk harder. "Hmm. Then there are a few possibilities. One, they are suppressing the news to avoid panic for as long as possible. Another is that they are still in the middle of combat. But then, there would be the third probability, that one where no one has returned alive, so there could simply be no report."

Those words dropped like a cosmic bomb.

Every single person in a twenty-meter radius stopped breathing. Even further away, soldiers snapped their heads toward Luca so fast it looked like a synchronized maneuver. Their senses sharpened. Their ears leaned in. They hung onto his words as if he were about to reveal the location of a forbidden treasure vault.

"A booth?" the Captain asked cautiously, fully aware that one wrong syllable could get him glared at by every soldier present.

"Yes," Luca said with a warm, earnest smile. "We actually belong to a small academy guild. And as per tradition, we will be opening our own booth. I cannot tell you about it yet, but I have been meaning to send invitations as a thank you for everyone who helped out today."

...Silence.

Because while Luca was smiling like sunshine, everyone around him was in various stages of confusion and disbelief.

A small academy guild?

Small?

The guild that had the officers and the elites bending backwards? The guild that caused entire departments to hold emergency meetings? The guild that had come to help out actual active duty soldiers?

Small?

Sure, there were arguably too few members. But if they were truly considered small, then what were the rest of them? Mites?

But the cadet truly believed it. There was no arrogance. No pride. Just one hundred percent sincerity from someone who probably hadn’t realized just how influential their "small" guild was.

The soldiers exchanged glances, and in those glances was the shared thought: He really thinks we do not know.

That was so interesting. Also terrifying. But interesting.

Then, at the mention of invites, every ear sharpened with predatory focus.

The soldiers were mortified, of course. They had been rescued, cleaned up after, and protected by these people, yet they were the ones being thanked. But after spending days with the cadet, they were pretty sure Luca was not referring to the rescue at all. He was probably talking about the cleanup of the aftermath. The cleanup that was so incomprehensible that they would have difficulty writing reports about it.

But truthfully, even if the invitation had been for the most ridiculous, nonsensical booth imaginable, would they not still fight tooth and nail to attend?

Of course they would.

And their instincts were frighteningly accurate.

Because by the time the invitations actually started appearing in circulation, several soldiers genuinely considered passing them down as family heirlooms.

After all, who would risk losing something like that?