The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 781

Chapter 781: A Modest Review

It should have been like any other day.

Somewhere out there, birds probably chirped, horns honked, water still dripped, and time passed the same way it usually would.

But for some reason, the Empire must not have been part of this somewhere, as it experienced a collective hiccup.

A hiccup so intense that for a moment, everything and everyone stood absolutely still.

The livestream froze.

Terminals paused mid-scroll.

And some people were certain that even their cells took a momentary break.

Across the Empire, across the star systems tuned in, across living rooms, offices, classrooms, barracks, transport hubs, and even a few (several) questionable underground establishments, the reaction was exactly the same.

Stillness.

Absolute stillness.

On every screen stood a young cadet, eyes bright and pure, his radiant smile framed by kneeling mechas and a parade road still lined with people.

And yet in the stillness of it all, something extreme echoed in everyone’s minds.

Hello.

Hello...?

HELLO?!!!

There was silence.

A strange, suspended silence where people simply stared at their screens as if waiting for subtitles or a follow-up line.

Then it began.

A single comment slid into the chat.

[Hello?]

And then, like a lit fuse finally reaching the end of its cord, Star Net detonated.

Everything erupted so violently that the server lights in the Star Net HQ flickered. Someone in the control tower screamed. Another person dropped their drink. A senior engineer genuinely thought they were under cyberattack until he saw the logs.

It was only one word.

One polite, mild, sincere word typed over and over again in different capitalizations and with varying punctuation.

But apparently, that was enough to catapult this year’s Annual Expo opening to a new height, as beings all over the universe went crazy.

["I’M ON THE FLOOR."]

["HELLO??? HELLO??? WHO SAYS HELLO LIKE THAT AFTER ENDING AN ENTIRE PARADE?!"]

["SEND HAAAALP! I CAN’T BREATHE?!"]

However, in some faraway places and in the comforts of their own estates, several crashes could be heard.

In the elven capital, a crystalline shatter rang across the halls of a secluded estate as Prince Eren hurled a wine glass against the wall. Ruby droplets slid down the marble like spilled blood while he glared furiously at the holographic projection hovering before him.

Sure enough, there were bugs everywhere.

Luca Kyros.

Greeting the world as if he were welcoming guests into his personal domain.

Prince Eren’s jaw tightened. His fingers curled around the arm of his seat, tendons straining. The projection replayed Luca’s simple greeting from several angles, each one making the prince inhale sharply through clenched teeth.

"Such insolence," he muttered. "Let’s see how long he’ll be able to smile like that."

__

Meanwhile, in an office high above the central tower of the Federation, someone else seemed to have a few feelings about it.

A hand gripped a reinforced alloy table so tightly that the surface began to crack.

"President Veyra," someone called from a respectful distance.

The cracking stopped.

Slowly, Alaric Veyra lifted his gaze toward the waiting officials who were frozen in dread. His eyes were glacial, razor-sharp, and achingly patient in a way that promised consequences.

"President, will everything be alright?" one of them dared to ask. But given what they had just witnessed, it felt like a necessary question.

Alaric heard the question. He knew exactly what they meant. But he couldn’t be bothered to answer something so useless.

Because on one of the feed windows, captured in perfect clarity, was Cassian’s face.

Eyes unfocused. Shoulders squared. Expression unreadable to the untrained, but to Alaric it was painfully familiar.

That was the exact gaze Cassian wore whenever he found something he wanted to play with.

__

But really, it was more than just play.

Because Cassian Veyra was inwardly hysterical.

It was the kind where even he would’ve laughed with his mouth open as he remembered everything earlier.

What an audacious little thing.

How bold.

How interesting.

His fingers twitched with the urge to drag them across the edge of his console, maybe even across the nearest throat, just to bleed out some of the electric thrill that rushed through him.

If he could have had his way, he would have gone on for who knew how long. The absurdity of it. The challenge of it. The bright flare of something worth crushing.

But he held it in.

Barely.

Because he wanted to savor this.

He wanted to see just how far they thought they could fly.

And how high they believed they could stand.

Yes.

[It can’t be that long. They’re only first-year students!]

[Brother above, do you understand the choreography? The timing? The SPIRITUAL PRESSURE COORDINATION? The landings always went together with their leader’s steps!]

[Ugh. I don’t know about you all, but I’m still here, wondering how all those mechas timed their hits. If I had been a pilot, there would have been a weird metallic sound every so many beats.]

Everywhere one turned online, a conversation about the parade was ongoing, and while some would have found that bothersome, a certain group of people were just glad that people were talking about it.

Because if they didn’t receive as many praises as humanely possible, would they even be able to go back into the dungeon space where lying in wait would be their coordinator from hell?

__

Under the sweltering sun, with sweat threatening to form along his temples, Luca stood at attention alongside the others.

Onstage, someone from the Expo Committee was passionately reciting the storied history of the event. There were mentions of unity. Mentions of sportsmanship. Mentions of cross-cultural understanding. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Words that absolutely should have been inspiring.

He tried to listen.

He really did.

But about five minutes in, his golden eyes drifted, his mind wandered, and a nervous thought formed before he could stop it.

"D-29... about our segment... Were you happy with that entrance?"

A soft whirring coursed through his mind.

Not mechanical this time.

Emotional. Dramatic. A little judgmental.

The kind of whirring only a little system with unreasonable standards could produce.

Then came the answer.

"Host," D-29 intoned, the voice crisp and strangely dignified inside Luca’s head.

"According to my preliminary scan of the reactions on Star Net, I believe I am happy with our entrance."

Luca brightened—only for the whirring to intensify.

"Considering the budget constraint of free, as well as the preparation time of less than an hour, I could rate it as a seven out of ten."

Luca blinked.

A seven?

He tried not to twitch.

"However," D-29 continued, sounding as if it were flipping through invisible data sheets with dramatic flair,

"If the event had been held at night, thus allowing for greater contrast ratios and optimal aesthetic visibility, it could have been a ten out of ten."

The little chipmunk thought about it and could imagine what the little system was going for. But even if it wasn’t perfect, Luca was at least relieved by D-29’s assessment.

However, someone else would beg to differ. For sharing the same mental space, a certain guardian mecha was this close to losing it.

For a group that came up with their routine after seeing the first segment, how dare anyone even complain?!