The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 472

Chapter 472: Division Exams

Maybe not for long. Because apparently, there was torture, and then there was Luca. And they should’ve all known the difference.

But they didn’t.

So when the time for the division exams arrived, the greatest miracle wasn’t that Ollie didn’t faint out of sheer panic.

No.

It was the fact that he was still standing with all limbs intact.

Barely.

Because the last 27 space hours had been a fever dream of academic suffering no soul should ever endure.

It started when Luca, in his most serious of serious faces, declared that they would now inscribe the core concepts of the Empire’s legal, political, and social histories into their spiritual pathways for optimal recall.

He said it so plainly, you almost wouldn’t think it’d be difficult.

But Ollie knew better.

And before anyone could run, D-29 had laid out projections that practically covered the entire room, with the expectation that everyone would always find something to memorize.

"It’ll help you remember better," Luca had said with the smile of someone who’d clearly never experienced fear.

It helped, alright. Helped summon the pain of a thousand buzzing bees under your skin.

Ada almost bit her tongue.

Princess Kira wanted to eat her glove in distress.

Ollie, meanwhile, had to be bodily restrained to avoid launching himself out the window.

And then came the memorization drills. Because they were all expected to memorize the same items before moving forward, and the Orcs who barely learned inscription didn’t think they’d make it out alive.

"List the founding dynasties of Solaris, in order, with dates!" Luca called.

"I...I only know the names!"

"Unacceptable."

Luca’s head tilted to the side, and Ollie thought he was watching a horror movie.

It got to the point where the moment Luca opened his mouth, Ollie would answer questions with tears in his eyes.

"The Concord Era ended in the year 4229 because of the food shortage riots!" he sobbed.

"Very good!" Luca chirped. "Next!"

He wasn’t even sure those were real answers anymore. At some point, he may have started hallucinating food.

Princess Kira had to be revived three times manually, for she had opted to stop breathing to maybe get sent to the medical bay.

Ada offered to stab them all just to end the pain.

D-29, on the other hand, wondered if it was supposed to log their escape attempts to see the correlation between that and their eventual score.

Then there was the spiritual water—the precious resource they usually conserved—was now being chugged like it was cheap tea at a roadside inn.

Ollie cried while drinking. He’d take a sip, then answer, then cry, then sip again.

And Luca? He smiled the whole time like a proud cult leader with excellent holographic flashcards.

So yes, Ollie was standing. Just.

He may have been twitching.

He may have developed a spiritual tick.

But by the time he reached his seat for the exam, he whispered under his breath with the clarity of a monk:

"If I survive this, I deserve a kingdom."

And honestly?

No one would disagree.

Because Oliver Mylor was a changed man.

He had stared into the abyss of Luca’s flashcards and lived to tell the tale.

So now, standing in the middle of the Testing Grounds, he did not flinch. Not when Lyka strutted forward with her curated arsenal of shiny, rare materials. Not when students jockeyed for the easier mechas. Not even when one proctor raised a brow at his increasingly twitchy eye.

He was calm. Serene, even.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

When given a chance to pick a mecha, Ollie simply stepped back and gestured for another student to go first.

"Are you sure?" they asked, surprised.

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