The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 473

Chapter 473: A Strategy?

Maybe the simulated enemies were really made of foam, thought many of the students and even the technicians who generated the models.

But if that were true, then how come everyone else was stuck facing beasts that felt like metal monstrosities and reinforced boulders? Because the struggle was very real.

It was Luca’s first time seeing an exam like this—and the first time they would use the largest, most state-of-the-art training arena in the Academy.

This was a division-wide test, and it showed.

The freshmen were pitted against sophomores in a high-stakes arena, surrounded by simulated beasts, spiritual pressure fields, and debris meant to emulate a real battlefield.

A hundred freshmen versus a hundred sophomores per batch for a total of five batches.

To pass, freshmen had to reach the finish line and steal one of the sophomores’ three combat tokens on the way there.

For sophomores, passing meant keeping at least one token and surviving as long as possible, where their final grade would be calculated by the total amount of time they were able to stall the first-year cadets.

It was brutal.

On top of that, each mecha began with 100% durability. Once a sophomore took 30% damage, one token would become retrievable. And that matters because at any mecha that hits 10% remaining durability, would be forcibly removed from the match.

And as the exams began, most freshmen looked like they were preparing to write their wills.

But not all.

Because in the very first batch, three times were recorded that were so shockingly short the technicians thought the system had glitched.

The light mecha passed in 9 minutes while earning 27 Tokens.

The medium in 13 with 9 Tokens.

The heavy in 15 with 3 Tokens.

Obviously, there were seconds that followed those numbers, and the data were all displayed, but people weren’t able to make sense of them. No one could really explain how that was possible, not even when they all watched the same footage.

The simulated beasts that would normally chip away at 1–5% durability barely grazed those monsters, if at all. The trio didn’t dodge so much as charge, cutting a warpath that defied every predictive model.

Technicians ran diagnostics multiple times, convinced there had to be an error in the simulation—until they watched other students struggle miserably. Nope. The code was fine. It was the monsters who weren’t.

At least the simulated beasts weren’t sentient—they didn’t have pride, dignity, or grades on the line. But the same couldn’t be said for the poor sophomores, who were just trying to pass a required course and got caught in a blitzkrieg they didn’t sign up for!

It was a nightmare. Less of a dine and dash and more daylight robbery. Some didn’t even get a chance to shout "Incoming!" before those three tore past them, while damaging their mechas and snatching those supposed treasured tokens.

The devastated sophomores inside the arena were baffled.

But outside, the other students saw how despicable that trap looked.

If only it were intentional. But it wasn’t.

For the three wouldn’t need such a strategy for a test like this.

No formations. No signals. No coordination.

They just...fought.

It was instinctual. Raw. The kind of chaos you could only get from three people who were simply too used to charging into danger without asking permission.

Such efficiency!

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