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

Chapter 1005: Hands-On Testing

"Hello! This is Luca Kyros—"

Suddenly speaking out of nowhere and to who knows who, the cadet who had opened with a spine-chilling greeting kept walking, much to everyone’s sudden distress.

Luca moved languidly this time, his posture relaxed as he began happily recording an experimental video log.

"Today is the Closing Banquet of the Annual Expo, and the location is the Imperial Palace Training Arena," he narrated, his voice light and scholarly, despite those crazed, glimmering eyes.

In between his sentences, he took steady, rhythmic steps.

Behind him, the Federation members were practically screaming at each other to get it together.

Cassian, having finally recovered his own composure, was in no mood for games.

He hated the idea of showing exactly which members of his team had specific modifications—that was clearly what Luca was hunting for—but he couldn’t let the Federation become a total laughing stock.

Two of them had already made fools of themselves and would definitely deserve punishment later. That much, he was certain, but in the meantime, he needed to find a breakthrough.

"Tch!"

Fortunately or unfortunately, it wasn’t like they, too, were using all their strength.

At least Cassian could be comforted by the fact that they weren’t doing as well as expected simply because they had no choice but to approach these soft-hearted cadets as gently as they possibly could.

If killing weren’t a problem, then the outcome likely wouldn’t be like this. After all, the people of the Federation weren’t simply made for sparring.

They didn’t go through all that effort to improve themselves just to best someone in play fighting.

Because from back then to today, everything they had done had always been driven by a single goal—complete domination.

So while they couldn’t kill these Imperials because of the nature of this trip, they could certainly escort them close enough.

With how he especially liked Luca Kyros, he definitely wanted to see what tears of despair would look like on him.

However, as the heir to the Federation deluded himself with such disturbing thoughts, the irony couldn’t possibly be lost on anyone as Luca focused on anything and everything but the gathering of forces around him.

Instead of minding how Cassian had recalled much of the cadets fighting the other members of DG, Luca simply continued with his spiel.

"This is a video log for Experiment 1-B, focusing on discovering the different variations of cybernetic implants and their relation to spiritual energy."

While Luca continued labeling his log, Cassian signaled his team to initiate a trapping formation.

Earlier, they’d only used a single field to try and pin Xavier.

Because there were so many of them and only one of that prick, Cassian had only used a fraction of their power to test the waters so the fragile citizens of the Empire wouldn’t accuse him of unnecessary retaliation.

Unfortunately, that very consideration led to a disastrous situation he didn’t quite want to admit to.

He didn’t plan on making the same mistake twice; this time, he was going to pile it on.

Cassian was well aware of the negative effects such a gravitational squeeze had on the human body, but who told the members of DG to make a mockery of them?

The Federation cadets set up a dense, overlapping perimeter around and under Luca. Yet, the golden-eyed cadet, busy with his recording, barely even glanced their way. He walked through their stacked gravitational fields like he was taking a casual short walk in a garden.

"What the—?"

The elites traded panicked looks.

Were their fields being negated by some sort of electromagnetic pulse?

Was that why Luca didn’t seem mildly inconvenienced by something that should’ve knocked him flat on the floor?

Then, as if breaking the tense atmosphere, the arena timer let out a sharp chime.

Ten minutes left—just a third of the total duration remained.

"!!!"

What?!

Luca was scandalized.

He was so scandalized by the lack of time that he practically sprinted straight toward the cloaked coordinates of Decorative Personnel D.

The Federation cadets were appalled.

He wasn’t just moving; he was running with a speed that suggested the gravity meant absolutely nothing to him.

Finally, convinced their equipment was being suppressed or failing unfairly, Cassian issued a wordless command with a sharp jerk of his head. He signaled one of his own cadets to test the field’s integrity.

Seeing as Luca hadn’t been affected by their collective assault, the cadet thought nothing of the order.

He obeyed instantly, stepping into the stack—only to immediately crater the ground. The gravitational pressure was so immense that his modified body hit the floor like a meteor impacting the planet.

A scream of pure terror ripped from his lungs as he was crushed into the dirt.

"SIIIIIIR!"

The Federation team, and Cassian especially, watched the carnage in stunned silence.

Cassian looked up, his gaze landing on Xavier Montclair’s face. Xavier simply shrugged, his expression maddeningly neutral as the heir to the Federation internally imploded.

Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!

Safe to say, Xavier understood exactly why Cassian looked like he wanted to tear his own hair out. But really, whose fault was this to begin with?

__

Well, that was the same question Decorative Personnel D asked himself as Luca Kyros reached him in the most terrorizing way possible.

When they were finally face-to-face, Luca ended that demented log of his by saying, "First, I’ll initiate a scan to map out the spiritual energy pathways."

"!"

And the Kyros heir really did.

He initiated a probe, holding Decorative Personnel D with a staggering number of spiritual tendrils that had the poor elite’s pupils dilating in sheer panic.

It was like dealing with a monster.

One that spoke and had questions like, "Excuse me, Sir? Your spiritual pathways are extremely fascinating! Is everyone else’s like this?"

"Wait! Noooo!"

"Oh, and if it’s okay with you, can you tell me about your experience with getting them replaced with synthetic ones?"

Luca’s eyes were practically sparkling with the kind of focused intensity he usually reserved for high-end mecha schematics and his night-time money counting routine.

After all, to him, this wasn’t a soldier; it was a miniature mecha he couldn’t wait to take apart. He began carefully handling his specimen, trying to locate the spiritual core of the cyborg to see how human biology and machinery could coexist so seamlessly in one body.

Sure, Luca had access to biomechas and everything that would allow for one to be made, but he couldn’t possibly imagine using the same materials for a human being!

So he really had to know!

Sadly, the curious mechanic couldn’t possibly use his beloved precision tools in this scenario. More importantly, he didn’t think it would be a good idea to take someone’s leg—whether it was bionic or cybernetic.

Wouldn’t that be very awkward?

How would he possibly explain bringing such a thing home to his mother?

"..."

Yeah, not a good idea.

So, Luca could only satisfy his curiosity by probing whatever he could with his spiritual tendrils, assisted by one equally enthusiastic little system.

Decorative Personnel D, however, was far past the point of professional curiosity.

Fearing for his life and feeling practically hostaged by the crushing pressure of those spiritual tendrils, he reliazed he couldn’t rely on anyone else to save himself.

That was why, in the most unexpected turn of events, he prepared to release a massive disabling charge of energy—a high-output tactical surge meant to do far more than stop a human heart. It wasn’t something that should ever be used in a sanctioned match, much less a sparring one, but he was desperate.

The elite shut his eyes tight, re-directing every bit of power he had into a surge through his palms, releasing a far greater charge than he ever had in his short career.

ZZZT!

The air crackled with the ozone scent of electricity.

But when the agent dared to open his eyes, expecting to see a scorched body, he was met with a sight that shattered his soul.

Luca was still perfectly intact, his smile now even brighter, practically sparking with the residual energy, as he leaned in closer.

"I knew it! Even your palms are cool! Please let me see, Mister!"

Decorative Personnel D screeched like never before.

It was a sound of pure, unadulterated terror—one that would haunt him every single time he closed his eyes for the foreseeable future.

But it shouldn’t be so bad, when it would plague not just him but his friends, too.

And sure enough, there really was something about shared traum—experiences that forged lasting relationships.

For even in the distant future, they would still be reminiscing about the same fucking horror.

Dammit.